Walking Together

Harry Snape looked out of the window, over his neighbourhood. There was Miss Pollie’s house. He could see her sitting on her small, but neat, front lawn, playing with her baby Peter. There was Mr and Mrs Janson’s house, all neat and pressed as usual. Harry grimaced when he saw the two returning from their morning walk, arm in arm, a dignified and slightly haughty expression on both of their faces.

Harry turned away from their house, and his attention was immediately drawn to the house directly across the street from his. The big white and red ‘For Sale’ sign dominated the front garden. Harry couldn’t imagine anyone who would want to buy the house. It was shabby and the garden was overgrown and full of weeds. No wonder it was put up for the cheapest price he’d ever seen on a house.

He dragged his attention away from the Number 16, and looked down at his front garden. There was his dad, jet black hair falling over his slightly sallow face, pulling weeds from the garden bed. Harry gave a small grin when he saw a bird land just behind his dad, who continued pulling weeds. With a sigh, he left his window-seat and dragged his way downstairs.

In the living room he stopped, just for a moment, thinking that he had caught the smell of peppermint. Then he suddenly turned to the side and went over to a picture. There were 3 people in the picture. A small baby with green eyes that repeatedly opened and closed, and soft, downy, black hair. A tall man, a small smile playing now and again upon his lips, with slightly sallow skin and chin length black hair. But the person that Harry’s eyes were drawn to was the woman holding the baby.

Her lips were a lovely red colour, and her cheeks had the palest pink shading. Her skin was soft looking and pale, and her eyelashes were thick and black. Her auburn-red hair flowed, rippling, down her back, the colour of autumn leaves. Her eyes were a deep, emerald green, sparkling with mischief and happiness. She was laughing.

A sob caught in Harry’s throat. His mother, Lily Elizabeth Evans-Snape. The sound of a door slamming caught his attention, and he turned, struggling not to cry.
“Dad-“ he stopped. The expression on Severus Snape’s face was one of pure sympathy and grief. Harry said nothing, but simply fell into his father’s open arms.

Severus wished he could do something. Wished he could help more or take away his son’s grief for his lost mother.
“I’m sorry Harry. I-I wish I could help you more.” He stumbled over his words.

“It’s fine Dad.” The words were mumbled into his t-shirt. “I’ll be all right.”

Severus sighed. His son was so independent, but he still worried about him. Ever since Lily’s note, things had been getting a little bit better, but they were still far from fine. And it didn’t help that Harry didn’t really have any friends. Of course, there were the Weasleys, with their insufferably loud children. One of them was even Harry’s age. But they lived quite a while away, and Molly was busy as well.

Harry started to squirm slightly, uncomfortable in his father’s grip. Severus released him.
“Sorry Harry. Come help me in the garden?”
Harry shrugged, but followed his dad outside. Digging in the dirt seemed to calm him. He had dirt under his nails, but he didn’t care. The soil was cool and moist, and clung gently to his fingers. He stood up, stretching his back, then brushed the soil off onto his jeans.

It was then that he noticed the ‘For Sale’ sign. A label was slapped over it, reading ‘Sold’. His dad came up quietly behind him, a questioning glance on his face.

“Harry? Are you okay?” he asked. Harry spun around quickly.
“Oh, Dad. I was just wondering who would buy that dilapidated old thing,” Harry said, gesturing to the house across the road.

In all honesty, Severus was wondering the same thing. The house really was a bit of a wreck. The paint was chipped, and he knew for a fact that there were leaks in the roof and cracks in the walls. Every time a storm came through, he worried that it would fall over completely. He didn’t want to admit all this to Harry though, just in case he judged the people who lived there for being poorer.

“Harry, maybe they can’t afford any better. Or maybe they want to fix it up. Who knows, but I think that we should withhold judgment until we meet these people and get to know them.”

Harry tilted his head to one side, considering this. The he nodded.
“I guess you’ve got a point Dad. I never thought of it that way before.”
“Always glad to do what I can,” Severus commented, slightly mockingly.

Harry rolled his eyes at his father, and went back to pulling the weeds from the flowerbed. Severus got back down on his knees and patted a bit more dirt around a marigold. He’d wanted to plant lilies, but he didn’t think that he and Harry were ready for that yet. Maybe next year. He sighed, pushing his hair back from his face. Would the death of his wife, his beloved Lily, never leave his mind?

A tear fell on the earth in front of him. He quickly wiped his eyes, ashamed to be crying in front of his quite stoic son. Gulping hard, he got to his feet, dropped his gardening gloves, his trowel and spade into his bucket. Turning on his heel, he hurried into the shed, brushing angrily at the flimsy cobwebs hanging in the entrance.

Momentarily stopping, he took a deep breath, and put his bucket more calmly on the shelf.
“Harry?” he called. “Put your gardening things away. Unless you want to miss helping me brew Dreamless Sleep!” Harry came promptly into the shed and put away his (still shining) trowel, spade, and bucket. Then he followed his father into his small lab.

Severus lit the fire under the cauldron and started adding ingredients. He dropped in a tiny pinch of powdered root of asphodel, and stirred gently. 1 clockwise, 1 counter-clockwise, 2 of each, 3 of each…

Harry carefully sliced Camptin roots. He added them one by one to the potion. Severus reduced the strength of the flame so it was barely a flickering light. He gave it one more clockwise stir and left it to stew. Harry put his ingredients and equipment away, and headed up the stairs. Glancing out of the window, he gave a small gasp. Severus was at his side in an instant.

“Harry? Harry, what’s wrong?” he asked frantically. His son wasn’t bleeding, he didn’t look faint… What could be wrong.

“Dad,” Harry said calmly. “I’m fine, I was just a bit shocked. Look at that.”

He pointed out the window.

Across the street.

To House Number 16.

There was a moving van outside of it.