Harry had never been clothes shopping before.

He was still reeling from the conversation he’d overheard as he picked out t-shirts he liked, overwhelmed by the choice on offer. Snape hadn’t mentioned what he had said to Petunia, and Harry had decided it was probably safest not to let on he’d been eavesdropping. But it wouldn’t leave his thoughts.

“Is there a problem, Potter?”

“Um, no … just …” Harry was looking back and forth between two t-shirts. “I can’t decide between them.”

“You’ve only picked out three; have both if you like them both.”

Slightly stunned, Harry added them to the basket. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me. I shall enjoy getting the money for it all out of your aunt,” Snape muttered, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Harry didn’t doubt it. He had a sneaking suspicion that Snape and Petunia had known each other before he showed up this holiday, but neither of them seemed willing to say so, and he wasn’t sure how to raise the subject.

They eventually left the shopping centre laden down with clothes. Although they had not been able to find proper winter wear, Harry did now have a decent coat and warm jackets as well as t-shirts, shorts, jeans, jumpers and pyjamas, and even a new pair of trainers.

He was going to enjoy watching Snape get compensated from Petunia as well.

-

Vernon was pacing up and down the kitchen by the time Petunia finished speaking.

“Blasted freaks … think they can push us around … I’ve had it with the lot of them!”

“But Vernon, we’ve got to do what he says—Snape doesn’t make idle threats—”

“There has to be something else we can do! What about those freaks in charge, the ministry?”

“Snape said he’d report us for starving the boy—and t-trust me Vernon, w-we don’t want to end up in their prison!”

“We didn’t starve him! If the brat can’t be bothered to be around when we eat it’s not our fault—”

“But we were forcing him to work as well, more than he’s allowed, and taking his money. He’d press charges for that as well, he threatened to the first time.”

“I am not going to roll over and do what that lot want anymore,” Vernon snapped.

“P-please, V-Vernon …”

“You said this Snake person—”

“Snape,” she corrected.

“He said he considered taking the boy away?”

“Y-yes, but—”

“Well, let’s persuade him to do it. There’s only so much he can do to us if he doesn’t want to go to prison himself, isn’t there?”

Petunia whimpered. “V-Vernon, please, d-don’t push him. You’ll just get us all in trouble!”

“Nonsense. We’ll think of some way. Petunia … you said you know this Snape bloke?”

-

When they arrived back at Number Four Privet Drive, Harry and Snape found it empty, with just a note on the table and a plate of leftover chicken and potatoes in the fridge.

“If Petunia thinks avoiding me will stop her having to pay me, she’s got another think coming,” Snape said as he helped Harry carry his purchases upstairs. “Show her the receipts and tell her to send the money with you tomorrow, or I’ll be paying another visit.”

“Okay.” That would be a fun conversation. “Thank you, Professor.”

Snape nodded slightly in acknowledgement, bade him goodnight and left.

Harry unpacked his clothes, then headed downstairs and ate his dinner. He was just finishing when he heard a car in the drive, and then a key in the lock.

“Evening, Aunt Petunia,” he said calmly as she poked her head nervously around the kitchen door. “It’s okay; Snape’s gone home.”

“Oh, good.”

“He also wants me to remind you you owe him for all of this,” Harry said, pushing the receipts across the table at him.

Petunia’s eyes bulged as she looked at them, and Vernon came in. He scowled when he saw Harry.

“You’ll have to tell him we don’t keep this much cash in the house,” Petunia said, putting the receipts back down a bit too calmly. “Vernon will get some more money out at the weekend after his salary is paid in; Snape can have it on Monday.”

They’re up to something, Harry immediately thought. But he had no proof, and he didn’t want to risk messing up the situation by probing too hard.

“Okay.”

They both looked too relieved. Something was going on, but Harry couldn’t work out what. Surely the Dursleys were too terrified of Snape to risk doing anything else to him, right?

-

The next morning, Harry was eating his bacon and eggs when Petunia made an announcement.

“You know, Harry … your uncle and I have been talking, and we think you’re getting a bit big for Dudley’s second bedroom.”

You think? Harry thought, but bit back.

“We’re thinking of switching your room and the spare room over so you can have a bigger one. Of course, it needs a lot of cleaning and redecorating first—”

Harry raised his eyebrows, not believing this for a second.

“—but when it’s done over, how would you like a bigger bedroom?”

“I’d … love one,” Harry said slowly. It was dawning on him that his relatives were procrastinating Snape’s demands—possibly stalling for time while they came up with some way to stop him blackmailing them.

He hoped they didn’t stall too long. As tempting as the thought of letting Snape turn his relatives into various creatures was, if Snape got arrested for it, it would be Harry’s fault. He would also lose his job if his employer was sent to Azkaban.

Petunia told him to have a think about what colours he wanted his room painted (Harry pinched himself to make sure he was awake) and said on Friday he could come with her when she did the shopping and have a look at paints and furniture and things.

“Okay,” was all Harry could manage at this bizarre statement.

He finished his breakfast, showered and Flooed to Snape’s, eager to get away from his weirdly-acting aunt.

“Morning, Potter,” Snape said, entering the living-room at the sound of the fireplace flaring up.

“Morning, Professor.”

“How are things at home?” Snape asked, carefully nonchalantly.

“Well,” Harry said slowly, “my aunt said you can have the money for the clothes on Monday after my uncle’s wage is paid in, and she’s offered me the spare room, after they clean and redecorate it.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “It didn’t look dirty or in need of redecorating when I saw it.”

“I think they’re stalling to try and think of a way to stop you threatening them, sir.”

“I see.” Snape paused, then frowned. “Potter, you listened to that entire conversation, didn’t you?”

“Oh, er …” Harry flushed, realising denial was pointless. “Yeah.”

“It’s disappointing to see you can’t exercise restraint with your nosiness at home at least,” Snape said, shaking his head. Harry blushed harder. “However, since I am neither your guardian nor at present in a teaching capacity, and you were not at work at the time, I shall let it slide.”

“Um … thank you sir.”

“But you really need to cure this eavesdropping habit of yours, Potter,” Snape continued, a little more sharply.

“I’ll … try, sir.”

“Hmph. Well then, onto what you’re actually here for …”

The house fell silent while Harry worked on the landing all morning. Around half ten, Snape took a break for a cup of tea, and let Harry try a cup of his herbal brew after he commented how nice it smelled—flowery and fragrant. When they took their lunch break, Harry was just opening his lunchbox when Snape suddenly seized his arm, dropping his plate.

“Professor?” Harry said uncertainly.

“Potter, you’re going to have to leave.”

“What? Why—” It suddenly hit Harry. “Voldemort?”

“Don’t say his name,” Snape hissed through gritted teeth.

“He’s calling you?”

“Yes, so this will have to be finished up tomorrow. Leave, now. I can’t keep him waiting.”

Harry hesitated.

“Did you not hear me, Potter?”

“Yeah—sorry. I’m going.” Harry reluctantly closed his lunchbox, headed back towards the fireplace and Flooed back to Mrs Figg’s.

He didn’t feel good about leaving Snape to face Voldemort—not that there was anything he could have done to stop him needing to. But the thought of what Snape might await—more torture spells that would make his pain even worse—made him shudder.

Harry wondered vaguely if he would have the guts to do Snape’s job, and then considered it seriously. Maybe, if there was absolutely no other option, but he didn’t know how anyone could bear to do it without knowing for certain it would help defeat Voldemort.

Well, if the alternative was losing more people he loved, he supposed he could put up with anything. But for Snape, who never appeared to care about anyone, what could possibly be his motivation?

-

“Are you ready to go?” Petunia said brightly when Harry had finished his lunch.

Since he had the afternoon off, she had moved up the shopping trip. Petunia was also acting far too cheerfully, and friendly too. Harry had a bad feeling about this trip. But if she tried anything, he could remind her of Snape’s threats—right?

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Diddikins!” Petunia called. “We’re leaving!”

“Dudley’s coming too?” Harry asked, puzzled. Dudley hated shopping—unless it was for something he wanted. When they were younger Petunia had had to bribe him with ice cream and/or new toys every time they went anywhere.

Dudley appeared in the kitchen, scowling with his arms folded. “No,” he said firmly.

“Don’t be silly, darling. Come along.” He didn’t move. Petunia glanced at Harry. “We’ll leave you in the video game shop while we do the boring things.”

“I said no. I’m not doing it.”

She looked confused and frazzled, and kept giving Harry wary glances. He had no idea why she was so keen for him to come with them.

“I’ll buy you some presents while we’re out, popkin. How about that new game you wanted? And some videos—”

“I. Am. Not. Going,” Dudley said very firmly. “And if you try and make me I’ll tell Harry what you’re up to.”

Petunia blanched. “Diddikins!”

“What?” Harry asked. “What’s she up to?”

“Watch your p—”

Petunia didn’t give her son a chance to finish his sentence before she dragged Harry from the room and out of the front door. Harry tried to pull his arm out of her hand, but she had a very tight grip.

“What was that about? What’s going on, Aunt Petunia? You remember what Snape said about—”

“Just get in the car,” she snapped, then plastered her fake smile back in place. “Don’t listen to Dudley, Harry, he’s just jealous because he wants a new bedroom of his own.” She pushed him forcefully into the car and closed the door sharply on him.

“Ow!”

Petunia ignored him, walked around the car and got in the driver’s seat. Harry massaged his throbbing elbow and tried to work out what she was up to. A feeling of dread was growing in the pit of his stomach.

“Belt up, Harry. Let’s go and get you your new bedroom.”