Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
This Chapter: Harry makes a decision to help himself recover.
The Point of No Return

Harry awoke to find Snape seated in a chair near his bed, reading a scroll of parchment.

“Do you ever sleep?” asked Harry.

“When I need to,” replied Snape without looking up.

“Oh,” said Harry. “and what are you doing in my room?”

“I was merely watching to be sure you didn’t have any more nightmares,” said Snape. Harry knew there was more to it than that. Snape had no reasons to doubt his potion-making abilities, he was a Potions Master, after all.

“The potion worked just fine. Why are you really here?” asked Harry.

Snape looked up from the parchment and evenly replied, “I altered the formula slightly. I wished to see if it worked the same.” Snape had to admit, his son was very sharp, he knew when he was being lied to, or when someone wasn't sharing the whole truth with him. Harry knew there was more to it than that, but he also knew Snape would give him no more answers. Snape finally left the room, but all day, Harry felt as though he was being watched.

The next few days passed the same, with Snape “checking up” on him constantly and the “eyes” following his every move. Almost a week after Harry had been moved to Snape’s quarters, Harry was pacing around his room, debating on whether or not to sneak down to the potions lab and make some more of that potion. He felt like he was going to go insane without it.

In fact, he probably was already. He kept seeing strange things in the shadows of Snape’s quarters. Sometimes it would be an animal of some sort, but usually it was some horrifying vision of his horrible ordeal with Voldemort. At least he wasn’t having any more visions from Voldemort. They were almost as bad as his memories.

He finally sighed and knelt beside his trunk to get out the small roll of parchment that contained the instructions for the potion. He found it buried near the bottom and pulled it out. He unrolled the parchment and looked it over.

As soon as his eyes saw the word, belladonna, he felt disgusted with himself for giving in. He ripped the parchment up into pieces so small that they couldn’t be put back together and lit the pieces on fire. When the last flame flickered out, he panicked.

He pointed his wand at the ashes and said, “Reparo!” A single black fleck flew up from the pile and fluttered slowly back down.

“Dammit!” he cried and flung his wand across the room. Hot tears slid down his face and dripped into the pile of ash. It was over. He had just lost his last means of getting the potion. Part of him was wondering what the hell he had done, while another part of him was happy to get rid of it.

As he stared at the ashes, his numb mind registered the fact that he was being held by someone. He relaxed into the arms, finally letting himself show the pain that he’d been feeling for so long.

~Snape’s POV~

Snape walked down the hallway to check on Harry. He opened the door slightly and saw Harry ripping up a piece of parchment. Harry then picked up his wand and lit the pieces on fire. He was slightly alarmed, hoping that wasn't something important. Snape wondered why Harry had had the urge to burn a piece of paper? Snape hoped it wasn't something Harry felt he couldn't come to him with, a problem or something.

When the flames died away, Harry looked anguished and said, “Reparo.”

When that failed to restore the parchment, Harry yelled, “Dammit” and threw his wand across the room. Harry stared at the floor, obviously unhappy with what he had done. Snape walked quietly into the room to see what Harry had burned, but as he approached Harry, he could see tears falling down onto the pile of ashes.

“Harry,” he murmured as he knelt down and wrapped his arms around the boy. Harry didn’t fight him, just continued to cry silently. What seemed like hours later, he felt Harry go limp in his arms.

All that crying must have worn him out, thought Snape as he picked up his so and placed him in his bed, carefully pulling the blankets over him and tucking him in. He wasn’t happy with how light Harry was. He was going to have to get him to eat more, even if he didn’t want to. Alejandra had written that he might not want to eat.

Harry rolled over and curled into a ball. He decided not to wake him to give him the Sleeping Potion and spelled off the lights before leaving the room.

Several days later, Snape was getting ready for what Alejandra had said would be the worst part of being off the potion. Harry had gotten increasingly moody and much more easy to irritate. Snape suspected his constant watching over Harry was annoying him. He would rather be safe then sorry, though. He didn't want his son to be in danger.

“Hello sir,” said Harry as he walked into the living room where Snape was currently sitting. He sat down in a chair and began to read a rather large book.

“Your friends sent some of the work you’ve missed the past week,” said Snape. He pointed to a rather large stack of book and parchment lying on the table beside his chair.

“I believe your friend Miss Granger saw fit to write down every word your teachers have spoken during class. Just do the work and I’ll teach you the spells. Make a list of them as you go through the work and bring it to me when you’re done.”

Harry groaned. “Okay,” Harry mumbled. He walked slowly over and got the books and parchment and retreated back to the chair where he put the book he’d been reading aside and opened one of the ones that Snape had been give.

McGonagall had had Ron and Hermione collect his work and gave it to Dumbledore to give to him. Well, Dumbledore who she thought was himself. All the teachers had been quite shocked to hear of Harry’s parentage. They had all sworn not to let any of the students know until Harry felt he was ready. Snape personally didn’t give a damn who knew, now that he was known to be a spy.

He hoped the Slytherins weren’t giving Dumbledore too much trouble. Additionally, he hoped Dumbledore didn’t give away that he wasn’t really Snape. Knowing Dumbledore, he’d be teaching the students how to make candy or how to turn themselves different colors. Snape only hoped that he wasn't passing out Skittled if they did an adequete job brewing a potion. His evil act would be ruined forever.

He made a mental note to owl Dumbledore about what he was teaching the students so he could teach Harry the same things. He wanted Harry to be all caught up when it was time for him to return to classes.

Harry left the room and came back several minutes later with more parchment, a quill, and ink. He settled the book on his knee and began to scratch out something on the parchment. Snape pulled out his wand and floated a table over to where Harry was sitting. He quickly put it away and pretended to be reading his book.

“Thanks,” said Harry quietly as he spread out his books and parchment over the table. Snape returned his attention to the book. He was researching how to create a potion that would suppress nightmares and promote good dreams. The potion he’d already created blocked everything. He didn’t think it was healthy for Harry to try and block out all his memories of what had happened while he was held captive.

Several hours later, Harry presented him with the list of spells that he had requested along with, surprisingly, a list of potions.

Harry returned to his work and Snape was looking over the lists when Harry said, “It’s cold in here.”

Snape looked up, and saw that his son was shivering slightly. Snape did not feel cold, though perhaps that had come from years of living in the dungeons, but that did not stop him from Summoning a blanket for Harry. Harry accepted it with a thanks, sir. Which, for some reason, grated on his nerves. He was Harry’s father, and as such, he felt that Harry did not need to be calling him sir.

“If you wish, Harry, you may call me something other than sir. Father or Severus, perhaps?” said Snape.

“Okay, s-Severus,” said Harry quietly. He wrapped the blanket around himself and continued working on his schoolwork.

Three days later on Saturday, Snape was having Harry practice some of the spells he had missed when Harry suddenly threw his wand to the floor and said, “I can’t do this.” Snape walked over to him and gently asked him what was wrong.

He had been practicing a simple Vanishing Spell on some marbles that Snape had conjured for him. He suspected Harry’s anger wasn’t really related to the marbles, which were half-vanished, but more with the potion problem. He knew how to solve this problem, though.

He had taken to carrying around vials of colored water with a drop of Calming Potion added for when Harry got particularly frustrated. Harry could never tell the difference between the fake potions and the real one. He pulled a vial out of his robes and handed it to Harry.

He drank it gratefully and handed the empty vial back. Apparently, Harry thought that he was getting carefully monitored doses of the potion. Oh well. Harry could think what he wanted if it was helping him. He picked up Harry’s wand and handed it back to him, then continued with his research.

When he checked Harry’s progress an hour later, most of the marbles had disappeared and Harry was looking much calmer. Hmm, maybe the Calming Potion would work once Harry started to get worse….

~Harry’s POV~

Harry went to bed on Saturday night without taking the sleeping potion. He didn’t want to end up dependent on that too.

* He was lying on the cold stone trying to breathe through what felt like broken ribs. He tried to sit up and felt something hard collide with his stomach. He coughed weakly and heard someone laugh.

“Pathetic little boy. Crucio!”

Pain was ripping through his already tormented body. He screamed loudly as his body convulsed violently. The curse was lifted and Harry lay gasping on the floor.

“I’ve come back, my pet,” purred Lucius’ voice in his ear.

“Sick…bastard,” muttered Harry from between clenched teeth.

“Ah, but there you are wrong. I happen to be a pureblood. You, however, are a filthy little Mudblood, not good for anything except entertainment,” said Lucius, his warm breath on Harry’s face.

Then, the dream shifted and he was in the circular stone room with Voldemort seated on his throne-like chair. But this time, there were no Death Eaters holding him upright. In fact, they were completely alone in the dark room.

“Harry Potter,” said Voldemort softly.

“How is it you always manage to squirm out of my grasp?” Harry did not speak. Was this a vision? Or had Voldemort gotten in his head again? Or was this some sick nightmare his tormented mind had come up with?

“My Death Eaters will not grant you mercy from me. They will make you suffer the worst of torture. I am the only one who grants mercy. If any of my Death Eaters even tries to kill you, I assure you they will be dead before they can offer explanations to me.”

Mercy? Voldemort thought he granted mercy? His mercy was no mercy at all, thought Harry.

“I must reward Lucius, though. He did such a wonderful job on you. Such a faithful servant….” His voice died away as the dream world faded away and Harry was placed back in his own reality. *

Harry sat up in bed covered in sweat and trembling slightly. He felt slightly sick, like he was going to throw up. Those sick Death Eater bastards, he thought angrily.

He chewed anxiously on his nails, just wanting to forget everything that had happened while he had been held captive. Why couldn’t he just forget? Or better yet, why couldn’t he just wake up and find himself back in the cupboard under the stairs, completely ignorant of magic and his destiny. He wouldn’t be fighting the effects of a potion he had so stupidly chosen to take.

Merlin, he couldn’t take much more of this pressure. Everyone expected him to be so perfect and not have any problems. He laughed weakly, thinking about Ron and Hermione’s faces if they knew where he was and what he was doing, what he had done. Not to mention everyone else in the Wizarding World. It would ruin their view of him forever. He laughed harder, not sure why this was funny, but making no move to stop laughing.

Several hours or several minutes later, Harry calmed down and his giddy feeling was replaced with that of anger. He was angry at himself and just wanted to hurt something, anything. He rubbed the scars on his wrists and began to drag his stubby fingernail down the marred flesh. Several inches down, he stopped himself.

What the hell am I doing, he thought disgustedly. I’m solving a problem by creating another one. Or rather, beginning another problem afresh. He rubbed vigorously at the angry red marks, willing them to just disappear so that he could forget that he had ever thought about hurting himself.

He thought back to his short time in captivity and marveled at how his feeling now were pretty much the same as then. He thought back to lying back on the cold stone floor, helpless to do anything to protect himself as he was held down and beaten and cursed. All he had wanted was for it to end, for them to kill him and get it over with. He’d been hoping for death. He knew there was only a small chance that he’d be rescued and any way of rescuing him would be difficult.

But his father had managed it and he wanted to help again now, when Harry was drowning in despair. Harry wanted to let him, wanted to let him in so desperately, but all those years with the Dursleys had taken their toll on him.

He’d been taught not to show his feelings to others, to keep his problems to himself, to be independent. If you depended on someone, you always got hurt. The one person you could truly count on was yourself. Now, he was going to have to let Severus help him.

He wasn’t going to get anymore sleep that night, so Harry took the blanket that Snape had Summoned for him several days earlier and wrapped it around himself. He then padded out to the living room and curled up in his favorite chair near the fireplace, determined not to fall asleep. But sleep….and nightmares…came to him once again.

* He was lying on the ground in a pool of water…no blood. He screamed in pain as Lucius dragged a knife down his chest. Lucius laughed and pressed harder, cutting through soft tissue, looming ever closer to the precious organs that kept his life intact.

“Careful Lucius. Do not be overzealous in your revenge,” came a feminine voice. Harry turned his head slightly to the right and could form of Bellatrix Lestrange. He growled low in his and began to jump up to attack her, but a knee slamming forcefully into his stomach pushed him back down. His head hit the floor and Harry saw stars for a moment before his vision cleared and he could see Lucius’ face looming close to his.

“When will you ever learn to respect your superiors?” he asked. “Draco learned long before now never to attack a lady and a superior at that.”

“You think you’re my superior?” asked Harry. “You’re nothing but a low-life Death Eater.” Smack! Lucius’ fist connected with Harry’s right cheek and he tasted blood in his mouth.

“You insolent brat! How dare you insult me!” Lucius suddenly stood up and walked over to Bellatrix. Harry was grateful for the relief from the weight of Lucius on his stomach.

The pain in his chest was beginning to worsen. He could feel the blood being pumped out of his cuts, his life-force steadily flowing out of his body. His vision began to get hazy and Harry closed his eyes, welcoming the darkness that was closing in, the darkness which promised to free him of the pain, free him of the memories. Those awful memories that plagued his soul.

Vaguely, he realized that there was a tingling in his chest as the cuts were healed. He barely registered it as a vial was held to his lips and he drank without thought. He finally slipped into the wonderful darkness.

So nice, he thought as floated in a sea of blackness without a care in world. But he felt someone shaking him.

“Harry!”

“No,” he mumbled, wanting to stay in the darkness.

“Harry!” The voice faded away and Harry returned to his dream world.

* He was upright, but not on his own legs. His arms were held behind him and he realized that he was chained to a wall. He couldn’t get away even if he tried. He was helpless. He had never felt so lost in his entire life.

His head fell limply to the side as he began to give up hope of ever being rescued. He was not going to be saved. He was going to die down here, never see any of his friends again. Tears slid down his face as he completely gave up….

~Snape’s POV~

He finally found Harry curled up in his usual chair in front of the fireplace, wrapped up in a blanket. He was shivering slightly and mumbling to something incoherent.

“Harry!” called Snape.

“No,” mumbled Harry. Snape tried again to wake Harry.

“Harry!” When that failed to elicit a response, Snape picked up Harry and carried his exceedingly light son back to his room. Once Harry was re-tucked in, Snape noticed the full vial of Sleeping Potion on the table beside Harry’s bed.

“Idiot boy,” he muttered as he slid the vial into his pocket. He checked his pockets and found that he didn’t have any Calming Draught with him. Harry was sure to need it after not taking the Sleeping Potion. He went back to his lab to get some of the potion.

When he returned to Harry’s room, he found him sitting up in bed, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He looked up when Snape entered the room and he could see tears running down his face.

Harry dropped his head to his knees and mumbled, “I did it again.”

“What?” asked Snape. Harry held out his shaking left arm without looking up. Snape stood beside the bed and found several red scratch marks on Harry’s pale skin. He pulled the vial out of his pocket and put it in Harry’s hand, closing his fingers around it.

“It’ll get better, I promise. Just drink this for now,” said Snape. Harry complied and looked relieved as the potion took effect.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Snape.

He was sure the boy would brush him off again, but he was surprised when Harry said, “The nightmares are getting worse. I keep seeing all the torture over and over again”

“Why didn’t you take the Sleeping Potion?” asked Snape.

“I don’t want to be dependent on it,” replied Harry.

“I made the potion special to keep you from getting addicted to it. That is one of the problems with Dreamless Sleep,” said Snape.

“I don’t want to rely on it to keep the nightmares away,” said Harry. Very mature of him, but he shouldn’t be subjecting himself to the mental torment. Harry suddenly looked up and stared him straight in the eyes. It was one of the few times he’d ever had direct eye contact with Harry, and he was surprised at the determination in Harry’s bright green eyes.

“I want you to know everything,” said Harry. “I want to show you everything.”

Snape understood what he meant and said, “I will owl Dumbledore about using his pensieve right now.” True to his word, he went straight to his study and quickly wrote out his request. He then sent the letter off with his owl and returned to Harry’s room. He found him up and dressed with a pile of parchment on the desk before him. He was carefully sorting it into piles. Harry picked up a stack of parchment and books. He turned around and held out the stack to Snape.

“I’m done with these. Can you send them back?”

Snape took the work and said, “I’ll give them to Dumbledore when he comes with the pensieve. Harry turned back to the desk and began to scratch something out on a piece of parchment. Snape looked down at the parchment he held and was pleased to see that the essay he’d asked Dumbledore to assign on Human Transfiguration Potions was on top.

Later that day, Dumbledore arrived with the pensieve. He couldn’t stay long; just told Snape to tell Harry hello from him. When he saw Dumbledore, he was reminded of the two packets of Muggle candy that were currently lying on his desk. He decided to give them to Harry after he viewed Harry’s memories.

The pensieve would have to wait until morning, however, as he was sure that Harry would be completely immersed in his work. He finally went to bed around ten o’ clock and he was sure that Harry had done the same by the absence of light from his room down the hallway.

After breakfast the next morning, Snape put the Skittles and a vial of Calming Draught in his pocket and carried the pensieve out to the living room, where Harry was seated on a squashy armchair, twirling his wand between his fingers. Snape set the pensieve down on a low table in front of Harry.

“You need to put your wand to your temple and think about the memory you want to extract. Then pull your wand away and drop it into the pensieve,” said Snape. Harry nodded and did as he was told. About fifteen minutes later, Harry put his wand down.

“I’m done,” he whispered without the confidence he’d had earlier.

“Do you want to come with me?” asked Snape. Harry fervently shook his head no. He put his wand in the silvery substance and felt a falling sensation as he was pulled into the pensieve. He landed in a room filled with rows and rows of books. Flourish and Blotts….

When he finally exited the pensieve what seemed like hours later, he felt sick and disgusted at what those sick bastards had done to his son. Harry stared at him through long locks of jet-black hair. The Glamour was gone. A perfect blend of him and Lily stared back at him, making him all the more enraged at what had happened to Harry.

Surprisingly, the first words out of his mouth were, “The Glamour Charm’s gone.”

“I know. It went away a couple of hours ago,” said Harry softly. So he had been in there at least two hours. Hours alone, with sadistic Death Eaters. He knew they were vicious, he had been one of them, but this went far beyond his imagination of what could have happened.

“Harry, I need to put your memories back so we can talk about this, okay?” said Snape. Harry nodded reluctantly and Snape pointed his wand at the pensieve.

“Rendre memoire.” Silvery strands floated up one by one and returned to Harry’s mind. Harry let out a choked sob as the last memory was returned. Snape sat down in the chair opposite Harry’s. Their discussion went on for several hours and Harry returned to his schoolwork seeing much more calmer than he had been.

The following Sunday Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower with the Glamour restored by Dumbledore when he had come to retrieve his pensieve seeing much more emotionally healed than he had been. He was all caught up on his work and had been warned that he may receive a detention for seemingly no reason at all. Snape wanted to be able to check up on Harry and make sure he was doing all right.

Furthermore, he wanted Harry to be stocked with Sleeping Potion, should he feel the need to use it. They had reached an understanding those last few days that Harry wanted to work through his nightmares without just getting rid of them using a potion. The “detentions” were a way to do that.

“Bye Severus,” said Harry as he touched the Portkey which would transport him to an empty classroom near Gryffindor Tower.

“I’ll see you later, Harry,” said Snape as Harry disappeared from his quarters.

Chapter End Notes:

Note: A companion piece containing Snape's trip into the pensieve will be coming soon.

Next Chapter: Chapter 9: The Questions Gryffindors Ask


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