Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Story Notes:
While this work will not contain graphic scenes of violence, it will explore the grooming process of a preteen boy by a pedophile man. There will be no explicit sexual scenes, but it will be heavily implied so if the idea makes you uncomfortable, you have been warned! Also, I in no way condone the actions of my OC. I actually hate him quite a bit.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I've been kind of debating posting this one on here for a while as it does seem quite dark but then again, I suppose that's what the warnings are for! This particular chapter has no specific trigger warnings to speak of but still, keep in mind that it will get heavy. This story was actually greatly inspired by darklight1601's story, "Distorted Affections," which is amazing and I really hope it will be continued someday!
Gary

Sometimes, Harry wished he had never been born.

As soon as that kind of thought flickered across his mind, he immediately felt bad. After all, he was the sole survivor of a fatal car crash, escaping with nothing more than a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

Even if his parents had been at fault for the crash as they had been driving drunk, he imagined that they would have appreciated surviving it. Unlike Harry, who was an unappreciative little brat.

But it was just that sometimes it seemed like the whole afterlife thing would be better than living at #4 Privet Drive.

Well, if you were Harry Potter, anyway. If you were, say, Dudley Dursley, life at #4 was a blast. Nothing to worry about but what video game level you needed to beat that day, or just hanging out with your gang and beating up your cousin.

Being said cousin was a task far more difficult. Chores, endless chores. How many meals did he have to cook and not eat? How many times did he have to prune the rose bushes before Aunt Petunia was satisfied that she would win the Little Whinging garden club award?

On the rare occasion that Harry did have free time to do as he pleased, he found that there wasn’t really anything pleasing to do. He certainly wasn’t going to be playing board games with Dudley anytime soon, and it wasn’t as though he had any friends of his own. It wasn’t as though his aunt and uncle would allow him to hang about the house with nothing to do, either, and he would find himself with a new list of chores to complete before sundown.

So, when he could get away from #4, he did. He wandered around the boring streets of Little Whinging, taking the long way to the neighborhood park. Up Privet Drive, across Wisteria Walk, through Magnolia Crescent, down Magnolia Road. He’d sit alone on a park bench, watching wistfully as children jumped around on the playground, running to their caring guardians after scraping their knees falling off the swings, and they would receive band-aids and hugs for their trouble.

Yes, Harry thought, it was a pretty miserable existence. It was probably okay to wish he had never been born, sometimes.

One humid June day as Harry was walking back from the park, passing through Magnolia Crescent, he was stopped by someone calling his name. Well, not his name exactly, but Harry was referred to as “boy” more often than his actual name, so it practically was.

He looked up at the house where the voice was coming from. It was a house just like any of the others in Little Whinging, average and noncommittal, nothing spectacular. But the owner of this particular house was waving him over.

Harry wouldn’t describe the man as tall exactly, but being an adult (and presumably a well-nourished one), he was of course much taller than Harry. He had sandy blond hair, sporting a coral-colored t-shirt that seemed to bring out his blue eyes.

He looked exactly like the kind of person that people would trust to babysit their children, there was just a very friendly vibe about him, nothing creepy or concerning and so after only a moment of hesitation, Harry went over to him.

“Sir?” Harry inquired, still keeping just a bit of distance between them as he did know a little something about stranger danger, even if Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had never given such vital lessons to him personally. He could often overhear their talks with Dudley, and well, maybe they did that on purpose so that he would know how to stay safe as well. Maybe.

Still, it was 1990 and a safe neighborhood, so Harry likely had nothing to worry about.

The man gave him a slight smile, and Harry absently thought that it was one of the very few times that he could remember an adult looking at him and smiling. The sight of Harry normally just didn’t bring forth feelings worthy of a smile, more often a scowl or a sneer.

Harry was what one would refer to as a problem child and he was aware of it. He wasn’t quite sure what his problem was exactly, just that he had a problem.

“I’ve seen you walking through here on your own quite a bit. Where are your parents?” the man asked.

Harry looked at him blankly for a moment before responding. “Dead,” he said drily.

The man’s eyes widened a bit and a tinge of red spotted his cheeks. “Oh, uh sorry, kid. What about your guardians, surely someone is looking after you?”

If anyone was looking after Harry, it was Harry himself. Well, sometimes Aunt Petunia did watch as he weeded the flowerbeds, but that didn’t really count. The man was probably just asking who Harry lived with, anyway. The people who would sign his school permission slips if it meant they could get rid of him for a few extra hours, if it didn’t cost anything.

The Dursleys spent too much of their hard-earned money on taking care of Harry as it was.

“I live with my aunt and uncle,” Harry said.

“Well, where are they, then?”

“On Privet Drive.”

The man rolled his eyes slightly, but he was still smiling. “Surely they don’t allow you to wander around on your own like this? You can’t be more than seven or eight, can you?”

Harry scowled. “I’m nearly ten.” He hated when people assumed his age. He couldn’t help being small.

“Okay, okay,” the man laughed lightly, holding his hands up in the air. “I meant no offense. You’re a scrawny little thing, aren’t you?”

Harry continued to scowl.

The man chuckled. “Fine, I’ll shut up about that. Still, nine seems a bit young to be out on your own.”

Nearly ten,” Harry said again, still feeling annoyed. What business was it of this guy whether he had permission to walk to the park or not? No one ever cared about his safety before, so what was the big deal now?

The man sighed, smiling slipping just slightly. “Yes, nearly ten. Look kid, I’ve just been a bit concerned seeing you out here on your own, it can be a dangerous world you know.”

Harry shrugged once he had cooled down a bit. “My relatives don’t mind,” he said casually. More like they don’t care, he thought to himself. He felt a bit of a stinging sensation in his chest, because as much as he told himself that he didn’t care, either, he knew that it just wasn’t true. He cared too much, actually.

“Hmm,” the man hummed as if he didn’t believe him but was humoring him. Harry hated when people did that, but he supposed it was a bit better than calling him a liar and a nasty boy straight to his face like his relatives so often did.

“It’s very hot out today, would you like to come in and have something to drink?” he asked suddenly. Harry looked up at him, feeling a sense of foreboding.

“I don’t even know your name and you’re inviting me into your house to give me something to drink?” This really was the picture-perfect scene for child abduction and as bad as the Dursleys could be, Harry really just didn’t feel like having his picture on the side of a milk carton. That was assuming anyone would report him as missing, though.

The man smiled again. “Smart kid. My name is Gary. And yours?”

“It’s rude to call adults by their first name, Mr. Gary,” Harry said, ignoring the question of his own name. The man’s smile turned into a bit of a smirk.

“It’s Gary Weatherman, but please, just call me Gary. It’s not rude if I give you permission to call me by my first name,” he said, eyes turning just a bit serious as if being referred to as “mister” would secure his plot in the graveyard.

This guy couldn’t be any more than thirty, He was still young enough for the first name treatment, Harry supposed. He nodded slowly.

“Fine, Gary. Still, you can’t call me over here to talk about stranger danger and then expect me to come inside for a drink.”

Gary chuckled again. “Fair point. Maybe another time, then.”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.” They looked at each other for a moment longer before Harry turned to go. As he walked down the driveway, Gary called after him.

“At least tell me your name?”

Harry threw his head back over his shoulder, looking the man up and down once more. He seemed innocent enough. It was just his name, after all. They were neighbors. No harm in it.

“It’s Harry,” he said finally. “Harry Potter.”

Chapter End Notes:
I know this was short, but I often treat the first chapter as an introduction in my stories! I'm hard at work on chapter 2, hopefully, it'll be out before too long.

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