Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
I changed Harry’s wage because when I added up his weekly earnings it sounded like a lot. I’d based it on HP Wikia’s estimations of the value in pounds, but individual amounts in the books themselves don’t seem to correlate with this, so it’s all subjective.
Chapter 2: Hired

Harry was much more careful where he put his feet as the day continued.

Around midday, it clouded over and started to rain heavily, so Snape moved them indoors, and he took a break for lunch.

Harry hadn’t thought to bring anything to eat, and Snape didn’t look too keen to feed him, so he pretended he’d had a big breakfast and wasn’t hungry, and hoped Snape wouldn’t hear his stomach grumbling. While Snape made himself a sandwich, Harry was instructed to make a start on the master bedroom.

There were four bedrooms upstairs, and two bathrooms. Everything was coated in dust, except the bed in the master bedroom and a trunk next to it. The bedframe was old but in good shape, the mattress brand new, but the bedclothes were folded neatly in a corner, a sleeping-bag on the bed itself.

As instructed, Harry removed the grimy curtains, and washed both them, the bedroom rugs, and the bedclothes. Snape had no washing-machine, but there were spells on his laundry room equipment to make it easier than it would have been washing them completely by hand. There must have been some sort of colour-restoring element to the soap, for they emerged much less faded. The bedclothes and curtains matched, a pretty Victorian floral pattern.

Snape came into the room as Harry was just hanging them out. “Finished?”

“Almost, sir.”

“When you’re done, I want you to make a start on the floorboards.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once everything was hanging out to dry, Harry returned to the bedroom with a broom, dustpan and brush, bucket of soapy water, a scrubbing brush, and Villyfeather’s Magnificent Magical Varnish.

He was really hungry, having barely touched his breakfast due to being distracted by his financial problem. But he wasn’t going to cave and ask Snape for something to eat—he’d stick it out till dinner. He’d gone without food for longer at the Dursleys’, after all. And whilst doing manual labour as well.

By five o’clock, Harry had scrubbed and polished the bedroom floorboards till they shone, dusted and polished all the furniture, made the bed with the clean and dry bedclothes—the holes in them had disappeared, so Snape must have used magic to fix them—washed the windows, rehung the curtains, and got rid of the moths and spiders.

He felt ready to collapse. He was obviously out of practise, not having done chores this strenuous in years.

Snape inspected his work carefully, and Harry held his breath. There was a long pause.

“Adequate, I suppose,” Snape said finally. Harry nearly fainted with relief. The fact that Snape hadn’t criticised he knew meant he couldn’t find any fault with it. “It seems you are up to the task after all, Potter.”

“Thank you, sir. Does this mean I’ve got the job?”

Snape nodded. “It does. I want you here at nine sharp, Potter. Nine till five Mondays to Thursdays. Do you think you can manage that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Would you prefer your salary in cash or Gringotts transfers?”

“Um, transfers please.”

They went downstairs, and Snape wrote up and signed a transfer order there and then and sent it off with his owl.

“See you tomorrow morning then, Potter. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t sir. Bye.”

Harry Flooed back to Mrs Figg’s, then walked home, doing the maths in his head.

Eight hours a day at two Sickles per hour … that made just under a Galleon each day … three Galleons thirteen Sickles each week. Well, it would go some way to buying his necessities, but even if he got everything second-hand, he wasn’t certain it would cover it. Plus he would need money through the year as well.

His school fees for seventh year he was trying not to worry about. He’d heard that people were allowed to postpone payment if they had financial trouble. The thought of explaining to Dumbledore why he needed to postpone made Harry squirm with embarrassment, but he didn’t see any other way to do it. But that was a problem to deal with later. Right now he had enough on his plate.

His job with Snape was definitely a start, but he needed more …

Harry came to a sudden stop as he passed the post office. As always there was a mass of cards in the window, people advertising various goods and services, and for various goods and services.

I only work four days a week, Harry thought with a jolt. I could get another job in my spare time.

There was also an advert for someone to do a paper round in the early morning. Harry could do that before he went to Snape’s, and then something else at the weekend. All right, so his salary would be in Muggle money, but he could always get that changed when he went to Gringotts. It was better than nothing.

-

Severus Snape had very conflicted thoughts about letting the Potter boy work for him.

The boy had turned out to be a surprisingly good cleaner. Now Severus thought about it, Potter had been rather good at the cleaning up in classes and detentions, and for that matter the ingredient preparation—it was the subtleties of brewing he fell down on. Still, his work ethic had surprised him.

Mind you, Potter could well just have been trying extra hard in order to be hired. It wouldn’t surprise Severus. He wished there was an alternative option, but the only students who had called in interest had changed their minds when they saw who they would be working for. And Severus couldn’t do it all by himself.

He really didn’t want to put up with Potter’s company all summer—during term time was long enough. However, there was a perk. Working for Severus would keep Potter out of trouble, at least for thirty-two hours a week.

-

Harry arrived back at Number Four jubilantly holding a paper round position, and with the details of all the suitable adverts for one-off or weekend jobs that were in the window.

After grabbing a piece of toast, he sent a letter to Flourish and Blotts cancelling his order, and one to Gringotts telling them he had some money coming in regularly now, but could they cancel his transaction to Flourish and Blotts anyway.

Next Harry began phoning the numbers on the adverts.

“Hello, do you still need a dog walker on Fridays? … Oh.”

“I’m interested in the job you posted in—Am I what? … Qualified? What qualifications do you need to wash a car?”

“You were looking for a petsitter for this weekend? Yes, I’m available then.”

“Yes, I’m good with kids. Er … no, I’m afraid I don’t have references …”

“I have lots of gardening experience.”

“What sort of DIY does the job entail?”

Harry wrote it all down as he went, so after he had rung dozens of different numbers, he had a timetable of work. In addition to the daily paper round and Snape’s job, he had taken three regular jobs and filled in the gaps that week with a number of one-off jobs.

He totalled up the quoted salaries, and it made just over sixty pounds for the week, not including Snape’s Galleons. That was more like it.

Looking at his timetable, Harry saw there wasn’t an awful lot of free space. (He also knew he was working far more hours than he was legally supposed to, but that should be okay as long as neither Snape nor his Muggle employers found out about the others.) However, his weekend job was housesitting, which entailed very little actual physical work; he could take his homework with him and do it there.

Now Harry had made a proper plan, he felt a lot more relaxed, and headed downstairs to have his long-awaited dinner.

He found Aunt Petunia washing up. She turned to look at him with a scowl as he entered. “What do you want?”

“Um, dinner, please,” Harry said, looking around for his plate.

“You were up there for hours; we thought you weren’t eating,” Petunia said, going back to the dishes.

“You mean you didn’t leave me any?”

“No we didn’t. Have some cereal or something.”

Harry groaned. He’d been looking forward to sitting down with a hot meal when he’d finished sorting out all his financial problems.

“And stop looking so sorry for yourself; you can’t expect us to read your mind. If you can’t be bothered to come to the table when the rest of us eat, you can go without.”

Harry checked in the fridge and the cupboards, hoping to find something he could quickly cook himself, but there wasn’t a lot of options.

“And another thing,” Petunia said, clanging the china together more forcefully. “Exactly how much time did you spend on the phone?”

“Um …” Harry didn’t want to admit he had probably rung about thirty or forty numbers over the course of two and a half hours. “Why?”

“Because when the bill comes, you will be paying for it. We’re not paying for you to phone up all your freaky little friends.”

Harry’s heart sank. “Oh. Okay.” He almost told her he hadn’t been phoning wizards, but stopped himself just in time. That would provoke questions as to who he was calling, and if he told the Dursleys he had got a job (or more), they would have the money off him before he could say ‘bankrupt’.

He poured himself some cereal and ate it in silence, then returned to his bedroom. Since he was going to be up at six for his paper round from now on, he needed to get an early night. Harry undressed and got into bed, and read for an hour or so before setting his alarm and turning out the light.

-

The early night had been a smart move. When his alarm had jolted him awake at six the next morning, Harry had had nearly nine hours’ sleep. He had silenced it quickly before it woke the Dursleys, showered and dressed, quickly stuffed several slices of toast and marmalade, pocketed more bread and some fruit for his lunch, and slipped quietly out of the house.

The paper round route thankfully did not include Privet Drive, or Mrs Figg’s house. Harry knew the area well, and it took less than the estimated hour and a half the post office had told him. Once he was done, Harry collected his payment and went early to Mrs Figg’s. The tea and cake was very welcome despite tasting years old.

“I think it’s very brave of you to work for Professor Snape,” Mrs Figg said, her eyes sparkling a little. “I’ve heard all sorts of stories about you two.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, if it gets me a better job after school, I’m game.”

“Would you like another slice, dear?”

“Um, no thanks Mrs Figg, I should get going now.”

He Flooed to Snape’s house at five minutes to nine. Snape entered the room when he heard him, and his mouth fell open in astonishment.

“Morning, Professor,” Harry said, feeling being polite was the best way to keep this bearable.

“Er … morning, Potter.” Snape checked his watch, then the grandfather clock (which had stopped at twenty past five a long time ago, judging by the cobwebs on the hands). “Punctual for once. I hope for your sake you keep it up.”

“What do you want me to do today, Professor? Oh, and do you have somewhere I could put my lunch? I don’t want it getting squashed or dusty in my pocket.”

“Show me,” Snape said, not answering the question. Harry pulled out three slightly crushed slices of bread, an apple and a banana. Snape raised his eyebrows a little, but didn’t comment on Harry’s choice of lunch. “Follow me.”

He led Harry to the kitchen, and opened a cupboard to reveal a large cool box inside it. Inside it was tins, jars and packets of ready-to-eat and finger food, a tin opener, a few pieces of clean crockery and some Tupperware boxes. He rummaged around and found an empty one the right size.

“In future it would be prudent for you to bring your own lunchbox, Potter,” he said, holding it out.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, not wanting to admit that he didn’t own a lunchbox, nor that he had almost forgot to pack a lunch at all. He was going to have to buy a box with his earnings. He packed his food in the box, and Snape packed it in the cool box.

“As it happens, I want you to start on the pantry next. It will probably take most if not all of the day.”

“Yes sir.”


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