Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Lose Your Gourd
> Chapter 10 - Lose Your Gourd

 

There are days when Regulus feels like smothering his brother with a pillow. He can act like such an entitled git - worse, when he is bored, he feels like everyone has to stop and entertain him. On other days, Regulus can tell that Sirius is trying to be mature: twelve years in Azkaban is not conducive to developing a healthy outlook in life.

       There is a part of Sirius still stuck at age twenty one. Younger even, as sometimes he acts like he is a toddler. Regulus understands Sirius feels even worse, trapped in the house he’s already escaped from once, but Regulus has worked hard to change the place from how it used to be.

   In particular, after the destruction of a locket due to an out-of-control fire, spending a lot of money overhauling the entire house, cleansing it of all the dark objects. To retrieve another item from his cousin’s vault, Regulus had sacrificed every goblin made object the Blacks had ever owned and a significant portion of the more questionable ones to the goblins in exchange for one cup. It had taken years of negotiation and legal documents to enter a vault to which he was not technically entitled. Though the goblins had been happy to destroy the dark object, it had come at a price.

                A price he had gladly paid, as it also meant being one step closer to destroying Voldemort once and for all.

                It hurts Regulus when his brother acts like being caged in his own house, which is practically new with all the work done, is worse than Azkaban. They need to catch Pettigrew as soon as possible to kick Sirius out of the house since he is so miserable here.

                Right now, Regulus feels like tying Sirius up like a mummy with all the skipping ropes they have and leaving him in the dungeon. This will undoubtedly make Kreacher happy. He and Sirius have never gotten along.

                 “Sirius, you need to keep your mouth shut if you can’t keep a civilised tongue,” he warns his brother.

                “I’m just saying that Snivelly isn’t very useful since he’s lost his spy status. He doesn’t need to come to meetings anymore,” Sirius replies.

                The Order meeting has not started yet; they are still waiting for Severus, Dumbledore, Shacklebolt and Tonks.

                “He’s a damn sight more useful than you are, Sirius,” Regulus retorts with a scowl. “He, at least, is ensuring that the Order keeps itself stocked up with all the potions we need.”

                 Sirius snarls at him. “What did you say?”

                There was a time when Regulus was afraid of his brother and his temper: now, he has been through too much in the last fourteen years to be fearful of Sirius any longer.

                “Exactly what you heard.”

                “It’s not my fault I’m trapped here,” Sirius hisses through clenched teeth.

                “Isn’t it?” he taunts while Arthur, feeling the tension rise, attempts to smooth things over.

“We are all contributing to the Order in our own ways, gentleman,” the older wizard says in a firm voice.

                He knows Sirius is itching to do something for the Order but is not allowed out due to his fugitive status. Kingsley is leading the investigation to capture Sirius but is using the manpower to try and track down Pettigrew instead. So far, the rat remains hidden. Unfortunately, they no longer have a spy in Voldemort’s camp; at least Severus might be able to give hints as to where Pettigrew might be hiding, and they could have done something to lure him out.

                It is a tense ten minutes before the other members arrive. Dumbledore and Severus enter together, deep in conversation. Severus murmurs his agreement and nods before winding around the table to sit next to Regulus, as is his custom.

                When Sirius glares at them both, Severus simply raises his brow unconcernedly. After Sirius has looked away, Severus turns to Regulus with a questioning look.

                He shakes his head; now is not the time to go into it.

                It took two months for Sirius to go back to his old ways. After Harry had sent him to Grimmauld Place at the end of his third year, both brothers had spent an awkward week or three, or the whole summer, vacillating between guilt, joy, contrition, blame and reproach. He thought they had worked out the problems on both sides, but it also helped that they spent very little time in the home they had both grown up in.

                Despite the changes at Grimmauld Place, Sirius finds it hard to let go. Regrettably, he is stuck, and everyone else is suffering the brunt of his temper. It is only a matter of time before Harry experiences it directly, which will undo all of Sirius's progress in gaining the boy’s trust over the past year.

               

ooOoo

 

“What is your problem with Severus?”

                The Order meeting ended half an hour ago, and most members have left. Today, Severus managed to escape quickly before Molly had a chance to get to him. She has a weird fixation on trying to fatten him up: come to think of it, she seems to take anyone’s thinness as a personal affront. Since the end of term, she and Kreacher have spent the past few weeks swapping recipes and cooking enough food to feed a herd of dragons. Per meal. Regulus has already had to buy new trousers as his old ones are tight around the waist.

                “I don’t see why he has to come here,” Sirius says in an aggravated voice, reminding Regulus of the times when their mother forced them to dress up for parties and greet their guests, like good little hosts.

                Regulus has followed his brother to the library and now is staring at Sirius’s back with an inscrutable look.  “You need to start behaving like the adult you are, Sirius.”

                Sirius spins around to face Regulus directly.

                “Yes, Mother,” he mocks, eerily gathering the thoughts from his head.

                A nerve ticks in Regulus’ jaw. He tightens his Occlumency shields regardless.

                “You’d think twelve years in Azkaban would teach you some humility, Sirius,” Regulus retorts quietly.

                A look of mockery quickly turns into fury.

                “Watch your mouth, Reggie,” Sirius seethes.

                “You’re not a child anymore. We are on the cusp of war, and you’re dicking around like this is still the playground with someone who is on our side,” Regulus continues.

                Sirius steps close enough to get into his face.

                “Don’t call me a child, Regulus,” he warns.

                “Then don’t act like one,” the other replies, his voice equally dangerous.

                “You have no idea what I’ve been through,” Sirius pushes Regulus back, then shoving him again, adds: “Whilst you were off swanning around the world, spending family money to renovate the Manor, I was living my worst life with only Dementors and the demented for company!”

                Regulus is no longer the timid little boy wary of his brother’s displeasure, so he has no qualms about pushing Sirius backwards.

                “You were in Azkaban because you put yourself there, Sirius. Just like everything else in life, you gave priority to all the wrong things.”

                “Priority like taking the Dark Mark?” Sirius taunts.

                Regulus knows Sirius expects him to flinch at those words, but he has long since made peace with the Dark Mark scarring his arm.

                “I might not have been as brave as you, Sirius,” he clenches his fists and stares at his brother with a look of disappointment, “to be able to leave. But you, on the other hand, weren’t brave enough to take me with you. So, I protected myself the only way I knew how. I complied.”

                Sirius pales at his words but points a finger to his own chest. “Are you blaming me? You took the Dark Mark, and you have the balls to blame me because you were too weak to get away? To fight for the right side?”

                “Did you think about me for a second, Sirius? After you left, did you even think about what kind of hell you were leaving me to? But then, you stopped caring the day you got sorted in Gryffindor, didn’t you? Am I right? As far as you were concerned, nothing else mattered.”

                “You could have followed me there! I would’ve never rejected you!” Sirius roars.

                “Follow you? Did you think you were setting a good example? Being a Gryffindor was better than anything back home, right? Who do you think she took it out on when you oh – so gleefully - wrote home to tell her the good news?”

                “You chose to stay, Regulus,” Sirius shouts, pointing at him accusingly. “You chose to stay when you could have been better than them.”

                “Don’t you think I tried? Don’t you think I argued with the Hat, begged it to put me anywhere but Slytherin? Do you know how close I came to becoming a Ravenclaw? I was sent to Slytherin because it told me I would have learned all the needed skills to survive - and I did survive, Sirius. I damn well survived even without you!”

                Only he and Kreacher know how close he came to giving up. When he had no one else except for his devoted House-Elf, who was kind to him despite the crap he got from Walburga. After all, every creature craves just that little bit of kindness.

                “I wanted to do more than survive,” Sirius raises his voice even more. “I wanted friends, and I wanted to get away from that harpy who thought she could torture me into being the perfect little Death Eater. If I hadn’t left, I would have been just like you, little brother.”

                “But you didn’t escape it, did you?” Regulus shouts back. “Do you know why it was so easy for people to believe you were a Death Eater the whole time?” He pauses, laughing bitterly at his brother’s incredulous face. “Because you acted like one. You despised our upbringing so much, but that didn’t stop you from using what she taught you to torture other people, did it? Oh, you might have called them pranks, but were they that different from what the evil Slytherins did,” his voice becomes sarcastic, “simply because you were from a different house?”    

                “I was nothing like our mother,” Sirius denies, paling even further.

                “Weren’t you?”

                “Take it back,” Sirius gets in his face again.

                “No.”

                “Take it back, Reggie,” Sirius shoves him. “It’s my last warning.”

                “You and that bastard Potter were no different from any Death Eater, Sirius. Do you think you were proving to be better than Slytherins?” Regulus shakes his head in disbelief. “You weren’t. Neither you nor your best mate Potter was any better than us. You just wore different colours, and the teachers accepted you because of it. If you had done any of that shit you did while wearing green, you would have realised you hadn’t escaped far enough.”

Sirius swings a fist in his direction with an angry roar, but Regulus sees it coming and steps to the side: sticking out his leg, he trips his brother, but Sirius manages to tackle him from the ground. Losing his balance, Regulus hits the floor with a thud. They grapple for several moments, each trying to get the upper hand. They don't even bother reaching for their wands, so absorbed in the fight.

A noise from the door catches their attention, and Regulus releases Sirius from the headlock. They both scramble to their feet and see Harry and his friends with varying looks of shock and dismay. Regulus only catches Harry’s look of hurt before he brushes past the twins.

“Severus is my friend,” Regulus breathes angrily, stepping back from Sirius. “He is more welcome here than you are. If you even try to look funny in his direction, you’ll regret it. This isn’t your home: you’re here only because Harry sent you here, and you had no other choice. You wanted to be a Potter so badly? Then you should have changed your name when you had a chance.”

With that venomous closing, he leaves to find Harry.  He hopes the boy is not angry with him.

 

ooOoo

 

Narcissa believes it is an improvement over his previous treatment; Severus is still ambivalent about it.

                Holly still ignores his presence unless he makes an effort to address her directly. When he does get an answer, it comes with a belligerent little harpy attitude. She does not address him as Dad, or Daddy or even Father, or anything close to familial. If she deigns to acknowledge him, she calls him Mr Snape in the most impersonal, detached way possible.

                Lucius finds this all amusing, while Narcissa prudently laughs behind his back rather than in his face like her husband. Even Draco likes to show off his marginally better relationship with Holly.

Still, Severus has only two weeks left before he has to go back to Hogwarts to prepare for the following school year, so he determinedly ignores her antagonistic demeanour and sets to spending some one-on-one time with her: two hours every day, one hour every morning and one in the evening. The tense atmosphere feels like torture.

                To offset this, Lucius and Narcissa do the same individually. Both of his friends refuse to tell him what they do in their time together, although he suspects they are learning more about the books and other sports paraphernalia they bought in the muggle world. Contrary to Severus and Holly's time together, where they both walk out with disgruntled expressions, Holly’s time with Lucius and Narcissa ends with a smile - if it ends at all.

                So, he decides to use the time more productively. He was planning to have Holly start her schooling to coincide with the school term; therefore, he decides to get a head start, assess her education, and put together a syllabus.                

                Having spent the past week gathering all the curriculum notes he could lay his hands on from Draco’s younger days, Severus now sits in Lucius’s library with a recalcitrant Holly. After what felt like a token argument, she begins filling out the various tests.

                It is all taken from the age-appropriate educational books he bought from Waterstones during their trip to muggle Manchester - mathematics, muggle history, sciences, English Language and Literature. Severus had even picked up extras for those muggle tests called SATs. Had she stayed in the muggle world, Holly would have had two more years of muggle primary school. In the end, she would have taken her SATs, the qualifications that all children take before joining muggle high school. However, Holly would not have attended it. Instead, she would have entered her first year at Hogwarts. His heart clenches at the thought of seeing his daughter for the first time at the Sorting ceremony: would he have recognised her?

                Had her grandmother not passed away, would she have approached him at Hogwarts, even if it was to offer recriminations? She looks just like him... Would he have noticed and done something about it?

                Severus looked down at the science test he is marking while she works on her English literature book.

                She is clever. He is proud of her, despite having played no part in his education so far. Jasmine had been a Ravenclaw, and Severus himself was a good student. Transfiguration was his only weakness, but he excelled in all other subjects.

Holly’s maths work is quite good too - she seems to have a head for numbers. She’ll probably take Arithmancy when it comes to choosing electives in her third year. Severus knows Lucius will agree to tutor her in advance, being much better with numbers than him. Severus is not worried about Muggle History since she will move on to Wizarding History once she starts Hogwarts. However, he has already made sure she gets a head start for her first year: Binn’s history program had not changed since before his death some thirty years ago.  

                Instead of listening to his droning voice, his Slytherins all have notes they studied from. Severus has his own set of notes which he will include in Holly’s History syllabus that he will construct for her for the coming year.

                Her written skills need work, though, he thinks as he moves on to her English assignment. Riddled with spelling and grammatical errors, he knows he will have to push her to do better when writing her essays. Still, he has two years before she starts Hogwarts, so he has time to educate her in those matters; he will also teach her Latin as his mother taught him.

                Thinking of his mother, absent for so many years, sends a pain through his heart. He never discovered what happened to her: his owls have never found her, nor has he ever been able to track her down. Lucius tried for him once, using his PI, but the woman came up with nothing. Severus never met Lucius’s PI: he is highly secretive about the woman, but apparently, she is very good at what she does and had never let him down - except for this one thing.

                Still, thinking about his mother leads him to think about his father and their upcoming meal. Family dinner, as Lucius sneers at it.

                The latter refused to let Severus take Holly alone, insisting that they all go together or not at all. He does not have a high opinion of Tobias, and they both wonder at his sudden insistence on meeting his granddaughter after having known about it since her birth - unlike Severus.

                Severus has not told Holly about her grandfather yet: he has been avoiding the topic for the past few days, but the appointment is tomorrow.

                “We are having lunch out tomorrow,” Severus announces abruptly as Holly passes back the last of her history work to him.

                “McDonald’s?”

                Severus holds back a grimace. Draco has been begging (not that the boy would agree with that word to describe his behaviour) to return for more burgers. Lucius’s House-Elves have tried to recreate the meal at home, but they all agreed it didn’t taste the same.

                “No,” he clears his throat. “We will visit my father.”

                The look on her face becomes thunderous: she is aware that Tobias has turned her mother away.

                “Didn’t know he was still alive,” she mutters, looking away.

                Against his will, he is darkly amused, often thinking the same on occasion.

                “He is eager to meet you,” Severus continues, pretending he did not hear her.

                “He didn't bother before. Why now?” she scowls. She still has not looked back at him.

He has no answer to that but says instead: “He is curious about you. Lucius, Narcissa and Draco shall be going with us.”

                “Right,” she replies sharply.

                Severus is still mentally scrambling to say something more while she scrapes her chair back noisily and walks out. Her gait is just shy of stomping.

                His lips twitch into a small smile. He is looking forward to Holly meeting Tobias.

 

ooOoo

 

“So, Luna’s coming today,” Neville comments, sending a sly glance toward Harry.

                He pretends to be engrossed in his Charms book as he sits cross-legged on his bed. He has already done all his homework ages ago and is now reviewing all his old books. He needs to upgrade his trunk to fit all the stuff he is struggling to get in: even with all the Space Expansion Charms. He needs to speak to Regulus about getting a new trunk, maybe one like Moody’s. He can have his clothes in one compartment, books in another and cauldron and equipment in another - he would even have extra space for Holly’s things.

                He briefly fantasises about travelling around with Holly, joining Luna during the summer holidays, hunting down creatures only she and her father believe in.

                He has been reading the Quibbler since he met Luna. Hermione thinks it’s rubbish, but he enjoys the conspiracies.

                “Harry,” Ron catches his attention.

                “Hm? Yeah?” he says, snapping out of his imagination.

                “Any news about Holly?”

                His friends know that Iris passed away, and Holly is in some muggle care home, but he has not told them yet that she is Snape’s daughter and is with him and the Malfoys. He keeps telling himself he should tell them, but they know how bad his relationship with Snape is. Hermione might respect Snape as a teacher because they might clash on a topic once a year, but Ron and Neville both hate him: he doesn’t want to hear how they think Snape will never let him see Holly again. He already knows that.

                Neville has never met Holly but has seen pictures of her and Iris that Harry keeps in his photo album, the same one Hagrid gave him at the end of his first year. Harry has been adding his own pictures of Holly, Iris, and even Dudley in his boxing gear. He has shown photos of his friends to Iris and Holly in the summer. Unfortunately, there aren’t many from the first year, but after Colin Creevey came to Hogwarts, Harry paid the other boy to take pictures of him and his friends. He always refused to sign them, but he allowed Ron to take a handful with Colin and a few more last year when his brother Dennis entered Hogwarts.

                He gives a sad look at Hedwig’s empty perch. Even though he told Hedwig that Holly is hidden behind wards, it doesn't stop his owl from flying off every now to try and see her for herself. He sends her off with letters to deliver to Dudley instead to keep her occupied.

                He has received some letters from Holly, delivered via Regulus, but Harry hasn’t divulged those contents.

                They look at Hedwig’s perch as well.

                “Hedwig still out for her?” Ron asks sympathetically.

                “Yeah.” It is probably one of the few truthful things Harry can tell them about Holly.

                “Harry,” Ron begins hesitantly.

                Neville gives him a sharp look and leans back from the chess game he is playing with the redhead.

                “I know Holly means a lot to you,” Ron continues haltingly, “but, you know, she’s not really your family. She’s not really… your sister. Don’t you think that – with everything going on – maybe – you should leave her alone?”

                Harry has to hold back his first instinct to punch Ron in the face at those words.

                “Are you saying that because of Voldemort? Or because you think I shouldn’t care just because she’s not my sister?”

                Ron flinches at Voldemort’s name.

                “Well, she isn’t,” Ron insists. He looks at Neville for support, but the blond shakes his head. “I just don’t want to see you upset because you can’t find her. And... you know I’m right. She’s not related to you in any way. You don’t have to take responsibility for everything - especially not some orphan.”

                Harry stands up brusquely from his bed.

                “I don’t mean it like that,” Ron scrambles to his feet, only now sensing that he’s overstepped the mark.

                “Harry,” Neville tries to intervene. Perhaps he is afraid they will start fighting like they saw Regulus and Sirius did several days ago. Maybe they are getting the same thing Sirius has - cabin fever.

                “What did you mean then?” Harry snarls, stepping towards Ron.

                Ron’s comments wound him. They don’t know what life is like at the Dursleys: they know they are horrible people who starve him and lock him up. He’s aware his friends look out for him and always grab him food like some fruit or bread rolls or sandwiches from Great Hall, even if he has sat and already eaten with them. They don’t know that the Dursleys have beaten Harry so severely over the years that no amount of spells or potions will ever remove the scars.

                He has always talked about Holly and Iris and called the latter Oma since he stepped foot in Hogwarts, and Holly his sister. He may never have said every single kind thing they did for him, but that doesn’t mean he has to for Ron to understand why Holly means what she means to him.    

“Why did you come to rescue me from the Dursleys back in the summer before Second year? You risked a lot back then. Why did you do it?”

                “Why wouldn’t I?” Ron retorts vehemently, confused. “You’re my best mate. You didn’t reply to any letters, and I knew something was wrong.”

                “I’ve known Holly since I was eight.” Harry begins to narrate, inhaling deeply. “Did I ever tell you how? It’s because her mum dumped her at the park instead of dropping her off a little further away at her grandmother’s.” He interrupts himself as the weight of memories threatens to suffocate him. “She was two, and her mum threw her away. The Dursleys have never been kind, never. They never thought of me as family. But Oma was always there. She was my family more than anyone tried to be - Holly has always been there for me as well. She never cared that I wasn’t her brother by blood. She just... accepted me. Now I’m all she has. I’m not going to leave her – just because …  I’m not leaving her alone.”

                Ron tries to reach out for Harry, but he bats his hand away, giving Neville a glare for good measure, and the other boy backs away with dismay.

                “You don’t understand the value of family, Ron,” Harry states bitterly, picking up his Charms book. Then, reaching for his photo album, he continues, “You might complain about never having money and wearing second-hand robes or getting crappy dress robes, but you never had to worry that one day you would come downstairs and there’ll be no food for you on the table. You never had to worry about not having a family to look out for you.

                “You have your head so far up your arse about what you don’t have that you don’t realise that you should hold on to what you do have. You’re lucky to have a family. You might be pissed with Percy right now, but he still took care of you in his own pompous way. He never complained about not having money; he just made sure he learned whatever he needed to have the skills to earn it for himself. Now you’re trying to separate me from my only family.”

                “Where are you going?” Ron asks with a scowl that shows how displeased he is with Harry’s comments about his family and Percy.

                Harry doesn’t answer. He struggles to close the trunk, not having packed it neatly, and drags it out, scraping the bottom loudly against the floor.

                “Harry,” Neville calls out weakly. He looks uncertainly between him and Ron. “Don’t – Ron was just – ”

                Harry shakes his head and walks out. He pushes past Hermione and Ginny, who look at him in concern.

                “Harry? What-?”

                “Ask Ron,” he snaps as he storms away, as much as he can with his trunk slowing him down.

 

ooOoo

 

Severus does not usually care to get involved in teenage squabbles, but the hushed voices,  on the verge of a rising argument, catch his attention.

                He hears Potter’s name called plaintively and rolls his eyes. Always about Potter. As he turns the corner, he sees the boy and Granger in a heated discussion of some sort - lover’s spat, no doubt.

                “Harry, he’s sorry. He didn’t mean it,” Granger was pleading.

                A spat between Potter and Weasley, then. The latter walks around with a big chip on his shoulder but is too lazy to actually drag himself out of his family’s poverty. He had heard that Weasley had been jealous of Potter’s entry into the Tournament: he managed to cheat his way through the Tournament, but Ronald would have failed at the First Task.

                “I don’t care that he’s sorry, Hermione. He shouldn’t have said it.”

Typical Potter. He would probably make Weasley beg for forgiveness on his knees. He had probably put his foot in his mouth over something juvenile as insulting Potter’s favourite Quidditch team.

                Severus withdraws from his position. He doesn’t need to stand here and listen to Granger grovel on Weasley’s behalf. The boy is so lazy that he can’t even be bothered to make his own apology.

                Potter and Granger move away. Severus is about to leave, too, intending to escape before being accosted by Molly Weasley, when a book catches his eyes. It is a copy of a Potions text, probably belonging to one of the Weasleys, judging by its battered state. Only they tend to buy second-hand – but something about it looks familiar to him. He walks into the room to take a closer look, but just as he is about to reach for it, he is yanked back. His wand is instantly in his hand as he pivots to face his attacker.

                Of course, it’s Black.

                “What do you think you’re doing, Snape?” Sirius growls, his fists still in Severus’ robes.

                He pushes Black away violently. He should not have let the other sneak upon him in the first place.

                “Trying to steal?” he accuses, and Severus rolls his eyes at his childish attitude.

                “Yes, Black, I came here to steal a student’s potions text.”

                The mongrel glares at him.

                “What are you doing here then?”

                Severus cannot admit he was spying on Potter and Granger. The flea-bitten convict would only tell him that he now enjoys spying on teenagers since he can no longer spy on Death Eaters.

                How did you fall so low? he asks himself.

                “What could Regulus possibly see in you?” Black steps closer to him. “What hold do you have over my brother?”

                Severus allows a smirk.

                “Is the leash around your neck chafing, Black?”

                “You are of no use to the Order, Snivellus,” the mutt pokes him in the chest. “Why do you keep coming back?”

                “I have more use than you, mongrel,” Severus hides the fury he feels at the hated nickname Potter and Black gave him when they were still at school. “It must be relaxing staying inside while everyone else runs around, endangering themselves.”

                Black flushes an ugly red, and Severus knows he has hit the mark: he has never been the kind of person to sit still.

                “I’d go out and help the Order if I was allowed to,” Black says defensively.

                Severus crosses his arms over his chest. “How convenient for you that you are not.”

                “It’s not like you’re able to contribute much either. A few potions here or there, is that all you’re good for now? Going back to scaring more students from taking your subject? Sounds like a safe little hidey-hole for you. Too scared to face your old master that you need to hide behind the formidable wards of Hogwarts, behind school children?”

                The smirk falls from Severus's face. He brings his wand to Black’s face, whose eyes follow it with a cold stare.

                “Have you forgotten, Black,” he spits out the name, “the reason I am unable to spy anymore is because I went to rescue your godson? Weren’t you the one hiding in the safety of the Headmaster’s office, the formidable wards, whilst I risked my life to save Potter’s ungrateful backside?”

                Black scoffs.

                “Harry was doing well enough, from what I heard. Duelling with Voldemort and beating him,” he crows. “Is that the kind of master you bowed to?”

                Severus sneers, “Potter being a braggart about his success? He barely managed to escape with his life. Whatever he did to hold off the Dark Lord was all due to luck. Regulus and I were the ones who saved him. Potter couldn’t hold his own against a bowtruckle. The only reason he got as far as he did was that Crouch paved the way for him.”

                “Harry is worth a hundred of you,” Black pushes his wand out of the way. “Don’t you dare insult what he’s been through.”

                “Just like Potter, taking credit for other people’s efforts. Like father, like son,” Severus scorns.

                “You shut up about James.” Black shoves Severus backwards; then, before he can blink, his wand is snatched from his hand and thrown away. Black brings out his wand, but he lashes out with a kick to his knee. Black moves out of the way, managing to avoid the full brunt of the pressure, but is distracted enough that Severus pushes the wand away from himself. Twisting his wrist, he forces Black to drop his wand and reaches out to catch it but fumbles as it falls through his fingers.

                Black backhands him in the face. They quickly become involved in a brawl, and Severus wishes he had left as soon as the meeting had ended. Damn Potter and Granger.

                “Don’t you miss your gang? Not your style to attack without backup,” Severus pants.

                “I don’t need backup to kick your arse, Snivelly,” the other man snarls. His eye is starting to swell from the punch Severus gave him, while his jaw is smarting from Black’s elbow. He knows it will be bruised tomorrow.

                “Sirius, stop,” a voice calls out.

                Severus doesn’t place it immediately, in the heat of the moment.

                “I said stop it,” the voice calls out again.

                Black doesn’t listen. Severus’s hair covers his eyes as he steps forward, breathing hard. A dark blur places himself between the two disputants. Black is too late to pull back, and the figure goes down with a thud and a clatter; the book Severus was previously reaching for, and the table it was placed on, skid out of range.

                There is a startled scream at the same as Black shouts, “James, you idi-”

                He doesn’t complete his sentence. Everyone freezes in shock.

                Severus is still trying to pull himself together when he looks down at the figure who got between him and Black. For a moment, under the shock of messy hair, he almost believes it is James Potter until Granger screeches: “Harry!”

                He is pushed away before he can get his bearings. Regulus rushes to Potter’s side, who is unconscious, having hit his head on the edge of the table, and gently turns him over: there is already a bruise on his left temple from Black’s fist.

                “H- H- Harry?” Sirius gasps faintly. He drops to his knees to help, but Regulus pushes him away with a vicious look.

                “Kreacher!”

                The House-Elf pops in straight away.

                “Take Harry to his room and then go to Andromeda’s. Ask her to come here immediately for a medical emergency,” Regulus instructs, continuing to cradle Potter carefully. “Get out of my sight, Sirius. Just... go away.”

                Kreacher takes Potter away, and Regulus climbs to his feet. He is still angry and turns his disappointed gaze on Severus. He has never looked at him like that.

                “Go home, Severus,” he tells him quietly.

                “Potter –” Severus begins to defend himself.

                “Go,” Regulus adds more forcefully. “You’ve done enough. The both of you.”

               

ooOoo

 

 “What happened to you?” Draco asks Severus at breakfast that morning.

                After coming back from Headquarters last night, Severus found it difficult to sleep. He and Regulus had not been close for many years, not since the end of the war and the trials; still, the younger wizard is a good friend, and Severus is unsettled to have Regulus upset with him.

                “Was there trouble at the meeting?” Narcissa queries with concern.

                Severus still needs to put some Bruise Paste on his jaw, but he has already taken a Pain-Reliever.

                “Black and I got into it,” he reluctantly confesses.

Lucius rolls his eyes, summoning his Elf to fetch some Bruise paste. Narcissa helps apply it to Severus’s jaw, sighing and shaking her head. They know all about his history with Sirius Black.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucius wishes he could go to Headquarters just to curse Sirius Black into ashes - which he would then spread over the rose bushes Narcissa had just planted. He is under no illusion that Severus didn’t give as much as he’s received; Black is most likely still tending to bruises of his own. At least, that’s what he surmises from the state of Severus’s knuckles.

                “What did the bastard complain about this time?” Lucius questions without genuinely caring. Black is the kind of person who could walk into an empty room and start a fight with a chair simply because he was bored. He always acted like a toddler in need of constant entertainment.

                “After the meeting, I heard Potter and Granger arguing. Weasley put his foot down about something. After they left the room, I saw a book,” Severus explains with a wince as Narcissa dabs the paste on his face.

                Lucius believes there’s more to the story than that but does not push.

                “I was reaching for the book – I was merely curious. It seemed familiar, and I thought I would get a closer look.”

                “What were Potter and Granger arguing about?” Draco interrupts with malicious interest. “What did Weasley do?”

                “Never you mind,” Narcissa rebukes sharply as she takes her seat. She wipes her hands clean on her napkin before resuming breakfast. “Carry on, Severus.”

                Both he and Narcissa glance at Holly, paying attention as she slowly cuts up her sausage into tiny pieces but does not eat it. Severus and Draco need to tread carefully here.

                “Regulus has been defending me to Black, and he took offence to that,” Severus finishes.

                They all see Holly perk up at Regulus’s name, and he wonders if she is interested in why Regulus would defend Severus. Indeed, he seems to think so because he straightens up and continues in a casual voice, “Regulus and I have been friends since Hogwarts. He does think well of me.”

                The only thing missing is the sideways glance from Severus to Holly, but the Potions Master has better control over himself than that. Still, Lucius smirks behind his cup of coffee.

                “So, he started throwing punches?” Draco asks, buttering his crumpet.

                With a more cautious glance at Holly, who is paying more attention to her food, outwardly at least, Severus nods.

                “Then, what happened?” Narcissa points out, cutting her toast into triangles. “You managed to get away before doing more damage to each other.”

                It is a logical assumption. If the argument between Severus and Black descended into muggle brawling, then only interference would have stopped it. So, someone must have intervened. Probably Regulus, as he would look out for Severus, even against his brother.

                “Potter stepped between us,” Severus admits, reaching for the bacon. “One punch from Black sent him to the coffee table. He passed out instantly.”

                Lucius does not miss Holly’s look of concern, while Draco snorts in amusement.

                “Ha! Harry Potter. Always thinks he’s so tough. Wait until I tell everyone at school about this,” he announces gleefully.

                “You will do no such thing,” Narcissa admonishes severely.

                Draco is taken aback.

                “Who’s Harry Potter?” Holly asks with casual interest before Narcissa or Draco can speak again.

                Lucius exchanges another look with Narcissa and is about to answer, but Draco is quicker.

                “He’s an arrogant prat at school, walking around like he owns the place, thinking he's something special.”

                Holly has an innocent smile on her face. Lucius wonders how she will handle this since neither Draco nor Severus knows about Potter’s connection with her. He casts a quick look at Narcissa, who only shakes her head to tell him not to interfere.

                “Isn’t he that baby who killed that bad person? They didn’t give his real name in the books I read - only called him You-Know-Who. Harry Potter killed him, didn’t he? The books call him the Boy-Who-Lived - a hero.”

                Lucius has to hide another smile behind his coffee. Narcissa delicately picks up her napkin to dab her lips, but Lucius can see she is hiding her amusement. Yet another thing Holly has unknowingly inherited from Severus: his ability to discern a weakness and use words to injure someone’s pride in the worst way. Holly certainly knows how to rile up Severus and Draco using Potter.

                “Potter should not have interfered,” Severus shakes his head with a sneer. “He always has to act like a hero.”

“He was a baby hero, wasn’t he? That’s what heroes do,” Holly says artlessly, stabbing her sausage piece with a fork.

                “He’s not a baby anymore, but he acts like it,” Draco says sulkily. Then, perking up, he continues, “He’s my age. And he’s not a hero. Serves him right, getting knocked around by his godfather. The prat deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.”

                He follows this with another dark laugh, and Lucius desires nothing more than to smack his son upside the head. It’s like he’s purposely trying to alienate Holly. They might not know about Potter and Holly, but still, they should be more cautious when speaking about him in front of, to their knowledge, an impressionable child.

                 “You’re lucky you can laugh when an adult hurts someone they’re supposed to be taking care of,” Holly snaps angrily at a startled Draco. “It’s funny, isn’t it?”

                She scrapes back her chair and runs from the dining room without asking to be excused.

                “What was that about?” Draco asks cluelessly. “She doesn’t even know Potter. Why does she even care about that prat?”         

                “Perhaps, Draco,” Narcissa answers in a cold voice, “because you have forgotten how Holly’s mother treated her. By laughing at the fact that Harry Potter was hurt by someone who should, by all rights, have been looking after him, you are saying he deserved to be hurt.”

                “But… it’s just Potter,” their son mumbles sullenly.

                “By extension,” Narcissa raises her voice, “you are saying Holly deserved to be hurt by her mother too.”

                Draco pales in understanding.

                “Your mother and I have told you many times to curb your tongue regarding Potter, but whatever your obsession with him is affecting your relationship with Holly. If you wish to continue being on good terms with Holly, you need to watch what you say, especially if you think it’s malicious,” Lucius lectures him in a more even voice. Draco, it seemed, had become obsessed with the boy - not unlike Black and Severus.

                “Once you have finished your breakfast, you will apologise to her,” Narcissa orders.

                Draco nods, though not without some resentment.

                Lucius decides that another talk with his son is in order. Soon. They are to be allied with Potter, and Draco must mind his manners. He and Narcissa might know they have indulged Draco quite a bit, even to the point of spoiling him. Still, Draco should also learn to be prudent. He does not know the exact reason why, but Draco has hated Potter from the beginning. At the time, he had been disappointed that Draco had not managed to gain a friendship with the boy; it would have been a good way of getting him under his thumb - a powerful ally he could have moulded to his own purpose. When it did not happen, he moved on to his next plan.

  He gives his son a sharp look as the thought of Draco’s obsessive behaviour towards Potter occurs to him. He is now doubly glad to have the position of Defence professor at the school to keep an eye on the situation.

“What happened next?” Lucius asks, bringing them back to the topic at hand.

“Regulus sent Black away and told me to leave,” Severus concludes.

Regulus telling him to leave probably upset Severus more than he wants to let on.

“And Potter?” Narcissa probes.

“Regulus sent his House-Elf for Andromeda,” Severus relays with a sigh. “He hit his head hard enough to knock himself out - probably has a concussion.”

Draco cannot hold back his snort.

“Leave,” Narcissa snaps, having had enough. “If you still find amusement in someone else's misery, then I cannot deal with you right now.”

Draco puts on a look of hurt. He tries to argue with his mother, but she won’t hear of it, so he walks away with an uncertain glance.

“Was that not harsh?” Severus comments, giving Narcissa a puzzled look.

Lucius silently agrees with this. It was harsh, given that they have never curtailed Draco’s malice in similar situations in the past. Perhaps it is a combination of changing alliances, Holly’s presence, and her inextricable connection with Potter. When Draco does find out about it, he will be shocked. Still, for now, Narcissa and Lucius have decided not to tell him or Severus - partially for the sake of peace during the remaining summer months, but also because Lucius is still working on gaining Potter’s trust.

“Surely, Severus,” Narcissa begins, staring at Severus with the same cold look she bestowed upon Draco, “you do not condone a child being hit by someone who is meant to be protecting them. Especially not after suffering through the same yourself and knowing that your daughter suffered the same fate at the hands of Jasmine.”

Severus’s pallid skin takes on an ugly flush, and he can no longer hold Narcissa’s gaze.

“No doubt Potter has been coddled by his relatives, the same as we have done with Draco. The difference is that Potter has no one to reign him in; he’s been allowed to run amok in our world. Draco has not suffered consequences for his actions in the past because we have looked out for him, perhaps too much. And I know for a fact that you let him get away with a lot more whilst at school. We are in a war now, and Draco needs to realise that.

“I am glad Lucius is no longer a Death Eater. Draco does not have the temperament to make a good one. One Crucio from the Dark Lord would have broken him straight away, and the others would have laughed at his suffering.”

Severus looks at Lucius, both having suffered at the hands of the Dark Lord when he was displeased. In the thirteen years of peace, Lucius had chosen to forget what he had endured, but the darkening of the Mark over the past year swiftly brought it back to light.

Lucius had not argued with Narcissa when she demanded not to return, not just for his own sake, but for Draco’s. He might think he is threatening, but really, he is just a boy trying to act like a man. He still has so much to learn... 

                “Whether you like it or not, Potter is important. Draco needs to learn to get along with him if he can. If not, then he needs to stay away from him. And he has to learn to keep his opinions to himself, especially around Holly. If we want her to think we are kind people, then she cannot see us laughing at other people’s suffering.”

                With her lecture concluded, Narcissa excuses herself.

                Lucius lets out a weary sigh.

                “We still have lunch with your father to get through,” he points out tiredly.

 

ooOoo

 

Harry opens his eyes slowly when he feels something cold on his face. It feels good, despite his pounding head.

                A ray of light manages to pass between his half-lidded eyelids, his eyelashes an inextricable web, but he manages to recognise the blurry visage of Luna.

                “Good morning, Harry Potter,” she hums, gently placing his glasses on his face.

                Harry doesn’t move straight away. Memories of last night’s events flood into his brain: he had gone back to the parlour after arguing with Hermione about Ron to get his Potions book. Iris had given it to him, and he knew it would come in handy for OWLs this year, having loads of valuable notes that he was reviewing before Hermione interrupted him to speak on Ron’s behalf - something that annoyed him to no end. Hermione didn’t like it when he and Ron were at odds, but still, Harry thinks she shouldn’t try to fix everything.

                When he’d come back to get his book, he had seen Snape and Sirius fighting, their wands on the floor. Right or not, his first instinct had been to protect the book, not wanting Snape to recognise it; his second instinct had been to stop the fight from escalating any further. Sirius and Regulus were already arguing because of Snape, and he didn’t want Regulus to be more upset with his brother. The last thing he remembers was Sirius’s fist coming at him when he stupidly tried to step between them.

                “Morning, Luna Lovegood,” croaks Harry, wincing slightly. It seems to him that Buckbeak kicked him several times in the head as he rose to sit. He looks around the room; it's just him and Luna, who backs off to give him space.

                “What time is it?” he asks.

                “Breakfast time,” Luna tells him, looking at him with her protuberant eyes.

                “Is that where everyone is?”

                His throat hurts from the forced and prolonged silence that every word spoken seems to cut into his throat. 

                As if reading his mind or even listening to his croaking voice, she reaches over to his nightstand and picks up a glass of water already placed there, handing it off to him. Her fingers are warm and soft as he brushes them with his own.

                “Any of those for me?” he asks hopefully, taking a sip of water and eying vials of potions next to the water.

                “Mrs Tonks left strict instructions for you to take the blue one first,” Luna says in her dreamy voice.

                Harry obediently takes the potion first, then the green one, as Luna hands it to him.

                “Thanks,” he mutters, handing them back, washing down the not-so-terrible taste with more water. The pounding in his head abates.

                Suddenly, he seems to realise the other girl’s presence in the room and feels shy. Luna has that effect on him.

                “How was your trip to Norway? Did you find any Snorkacks?” he asks with a smile, generating a look of comical disappointment over Luna’s face.

                “No,” she answers sadly. “Daddy and I had no luck with Snorkack hunting, but he said we will try in Sweden next year.”

                “Right,” he nods, still smiling. Then, plucking up his courage, he admits:  “I missed you.”

                Luna looks at him brightly, and it’s as if the sun has come out again after a storm.

                “Oh, that’s… nice. From what Ginny told me, I thought you were too busy to miss me,” she continues.

                “I did,” he quips in a firm voice. “Miss you, that is. Even with everything else going on.”

                Luna gifts him with a sweet smile.

                “I missed you too, Harry,” Luna replies.

                Harry has an urgent need to go to the loo, which can no longer be ignored.

                “I’ll be right back,” he mumbles, knowing his face is going red.

                Luna’s smile widens as she moves from the bed to let him pass. He quickly grabs some things from his trunk and leaves for the bathroom. He is still in the room closest to Regulus’s and shares the bathroom with the other wizard.

                He wishes once again that he had met Luna before the Yule Ball last year so that he could have asked her to be his partner, rather than Parvati. Though his first choice had been Cho, who had turned him down in favour of Cedric, he still had a good time with Parvati, he thinks, as he applies toothpaste to his toothbrush. Certainly, he had a much better time with Parvati than Padma, who found herself with a miserable date in Ron, who spent the whole time glaring at Hermione and Viktor Krum. He could be so thick sometimes... He brushes his teeth vigorously.

                He scowls to himself as he remembers why he’s not speaking to Ron and spits out the suds from the toothpaste. Holly is his sister, no matter what his friend thinks. He strips out of his clothes from yesterday and hops into the shower for a quick wash.

                Less than ten minutes later, he is already back in his bedroom, where Luna is reading the latest copy of the Quibbler.

                “Have you had breakfast yet?” He looks at her questioningly, hoping she hasn’t so they can go downstairs together.

                “I was waiting for you to wake up,” Luna says softly, and Harry’s heart leaps.

               As they walk downstairs together, she whispers: “I’m sorry about your Oma,”

              Harry says nothing but merely nods weakly,  acknowledging her offer with a lump in his throat.

“And Holly?”

He doesn’t want to lie to Luna. Unlike Hermione and Ron, who have always seen how Snape treats him, Luna is new to witnessing that sort of treatment. Everyone at Hogwarts knows Snape hates Harry Potter, but only Gryffindors and Slytherins in Harry’s Potions class see first-hand how much. Still, Snape being Holly’s father is something Harry is not ready to share, not even with Luna, with whom he had begun to share many other things - things he would not even talk about with Hermione, Ron or Neville.

So, he simply says, “She’s waiting for me.”

Luna doesn’t ask anymore. She doesn’t push as Hermione would or give him a look like Ron when he’s confused about why Harry cares about a young girl he is not even related to.

Ron has so many people in his family; he doesn’t understand what it means to be genuinely unwanted.  He doesn’t know what it’s like to find a family and do everything you can to hold on to them. Unlike the Dursleys, Iris never considered him a burden.

“I know you won’t let her down.”

A warmth fills him from hearing Luna’s words.

“I’m sorry you’re going to be stuck inside the house with us,” Harry says before they enter the kitchen.

“You were my first friend, Harry. Being stuck with friends is not the worst that can happen,” Luna waves off his concern. “Daddy and I believe you. I know I’m safe with you.”

Behind them, Regulus’ harsh voice spits out a bitter sentence: “As safe as he can be when he’s not getting beat up by his own people.”

Luna greets Regulus and slips into the kitchen after a quick smile at Harry, leaving them alone.

                “Are you okay to be out of bed, Harry?” Regulus asks in concern. Coming closer, he reaches for Harry’s head, carefully inspecting the wound. Harry saw in the mirror, before showering, that there is still a bruise.

                “I’m fine,” he says automatically.

                Regulus gives him an annoyed look: he doesn’t like it when Harry uses that word.

                “Did you take the potions Andromeda left?” the older wizard asks instead, deciding to let the matter go, at least for the moment.

                “Yeah,” he answers. “They helped with my headache.”

                “Well, one more application of the Bruise paste, and your face should clear up by tonight,” Regulus sighs, letting go of Harry’s face. “Let’s have breakfast, and then we’ll talk properly after.”

                “Is Sirius okay?” Harry can’t help but ask.

                “After, Harry,” Regulus states in a firm voice that admits no reply, pushing the door open to the kitchen and gesturing for Harry to enter first.

                All the Weasleys are already sitting in the kitchen. Luna has taken a seat between Ginny and Neville, and there’s an empty seat on either side of Sirius, as no one seems willing to sit next to him. He leaps to his feet as soon as Harry enters, but one glare from Regulus, who comes in just behind him, has him sitting back down.

                Regulus points him towards the other empty seat between Ron and Bill, which Harry reluctantly takes. Sirius watches this with dismay. Regulus picks one of the empty seats next to his brother but does not acknowledge him in any way.

                Ron gives him a tentative smile, handing him the plate of scrambled eggs.

                “I’m really sorry, Harry,” the redhead offers with a remorseful look on his face.

                “Never repeat it, Ron,” he warns him.

                “I won’t,” comes the promise.

 

ooOoo

 

Draco gives Holly an uncomfortable look, trying to gain her attention, but she won’t even glance in his direction. He had tried to go to her room after being banished from the breakfast table by his mother, but Holly had refused to open the door for him, and he had sat out there for fifteen minutes stewing at the unfairness of it all. Why is he being punished because Potter got beat up? Why does his mother even care? Why does Holly? She doesn’t even know Potter...

                Only after rushing to his own room and thinking about it all, reflecting on his mother’s words, does he begin to understand why Holly is upset.

                He still thinks Potter deserved what he got - in fact, Draco wishes he was the one to knock him out - but he decides he should try to apologise to Holly again.

                She refused to leave her room, even when Severus knocked on her door. Mother had to go collect her when it was time to see Severus’s father. He lives in some house, somewhere called Spinner’s End.

                Holly has been crying - he can tell by the redness around her eyes. Still, she rebuffs any attempts Severus makes to speak to her and doesn’t even look in Draco’s direction.

                She only allows Narcissa to hold her when it is time to apparate from outside the Manor gates. No one speaks the whole carriage ride there.

                Draco takes his father’s arm to be apparated, and they appear within seconds of each other in an alley filled with all sorts of rubbish and overwhelming smells that trigger Draco’s gag reflex. Lucius wrinkles his nose in disgust, the only sign Draco can see that he is affected. Severus begins walking straight away, with Lucius following. With an uncertain look at his mother, they fall into step behind them.

                Draco, Narcissa and Holly all look around with curiosity. He is aghast as he takes in the dilapidated state of the whole neighbourhood. Is this where Severus grew up? In this squalor? This is the sort of place he expects someone like the Weasleys to live; everything around them looks tired and depressed. Positively dreary.

                They arrive at a house, if it even can be called that: it looks more like a shack that needs to be knocked down. Even their albino peacocks have a better home than this. The place looks like it is barely standing: the front door is weather-worn, and the windows look like they have decades of dirt on them. He warns himself not to touch anything.

                A glance at Holly shows he is not the only one who doesn’t want to be here. He tries to catch her eyes again, to try and share a commiserating look, but she is still not looking at him.

                Severus knocks on the door perfunctorily. Just once. There’s a shuffling noise from the other side, and a cantankerous voice yells, “All right, all right. I’m coming!”

                The old man makes it sound like Severus has been banging on the door like a nuisance. The door opens to reveal a white-haired beast of a man: he is overweight, his large belly stretching his wrinkled shirt that is clearly from many years ago. The old man glares at Severus and greets him stiffly.

                “Boy,” he scowls.

                Draco raises his brows. He has never heard Severus referred to as a boy by anyone. Is this boorish muggle his father?

                Severus brushes past the old man with no other words, though he doesn’t venture further than the front door, just standing behind his beastly father.

                Lucius is next.

                “Blondie,” the old man mocks.

                Draco glares at him. How dare that man insult his father in such a way?

                The old glances at Draco, and he smirks at his indignant look.

                “Blondie junior,” he addresses him.

                “My son. Draco,” Lucius introduces in a cool voice, gesturing for him to enter the house.

                He does so, though reluctantly. He doesn’t offer the old man his hand to shake, uncaring that he is rude. He is disappointed that Severus’s father doesn’t offer his hand, just so Draco can rebuff him.

                “My wife, Narcissa,” Lucius continues.

                With a barely polite nod, the old man says, “Mrs Blondie.”

                “Mr Snape,” his mother acknowledges with more courtesy than he deserves.

                The elder Snape’s eyes fall on Holly. With difficulty, he kneels to her level. In response, Narcissa’s hand tightens around hers protectively.

                “Well, well. Aren’t you a precious little doll? Spitting image of my dear son,” he declares in an odd voice.

                With the glare Holly directs at the old man, her grandfather, Draco, can well believe it.

 


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