The Draught of Asphodel by Ttime42

The fifth years finished their O.W.Ls.

Harry was certain Hermione did amazing, even though she was a nervous wreck the whole time. Harry thought he’d done decently. He’d known more answers than he hadn’t and overall the exams weren’t as bad as he’d been expecting. It was a testament to Lupin’s teaching ability that every fifth year Harry spoke with had felt confident on the DADA test. He had known most of the answers and on the questions he didn’t know, he had enough tangential knowledge to get close and score some points. The practical had been a breeze and it was the most fun Harry ever had on a test.

Harry did his absolute best to stay out of trouble for the last two weeks. He focused on his tests and read his notes in his spare time. After his second-to-last O.W.L, when Harry had more time, Snape had taken him aside and they’d worked on the essay Harry had missed when he’d turned in Ron’s. Under Snape’s guidance Harry had a good start and topic and he knew he’d be able to finish it. He was getting a letter grade off regardless of the finished product (“for being a dunderhead”) but at this point in the year he didn’t even care.

There was a carnival atmosphere about the school as the year wrapped up. Teachers and students were having trouble focusing and Harry worked on his essay as fast as he could. He wanted to throw it together and be done but Snape was watching and checking in regularly. He wouldn’t let Harry slack.

Harry was in Snape’s office during his morning hours one day, working on the final parts of the essay. He shifted in his chair, squirmed, looked around, and generally wasted time. This was his last bit of homework and he was seriously checked out.

“Harry.” Snape called to him from the top of the greenhouse steps. He’d been in there for an hour working on the last of the potion. The fire was off now and it steamed, filling the air with an anise-scented mist as it cooled. Snape had been keeping an eye on Harry since he’d come to the office. Harry was certainly better than he’d been after that disastrous quidditch match but Snape could tell something was still ‘off’ between them. Harry was much more guarded around him, keeping his distance, skittish, and stiffening when Snape approached.

Snape wasn’t surprised. He’d beaten the hell out of Harry all year. He still couldn’t believe he’d put the cane to him. He was still a bit horrified with himself because of it. He was impressed Harry was willing to spend time in his office at all anymore, not that he minded. He would never admit this but Harry had become one of his favorite students.

“Concentrate on your work. You only have a couple inches left. Just write your conclusion paragraph.”

“I can’t think anymore! The O.W.Ls broke my brain!”

“Would you like me to stand next to you while holding a paddle?” His voice deceptively light. “That way I can whack you whenever your mind wanders away.” He had no intention of doing this but Harry didn’t need to know that.

“No!” Harry said, horrified. “Come on, it’s the end of the year. You wouldn’t whack anyone with summer break starting tomorrow.”

“No?” Snape raised a brow. “I spanked a seventh year the day before graduation.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. “Seventh? Wha—that’s just mean!”

Snape gave him a vague grin. “No one sets off fireworks in my common room and sits comfortably after.”

Harry frowned. “Jeez. Alright, I’ll finish!”

“Good choice.” Snape vanished back into the greenhouse tower.

Harry wrote for six more minutes before spacing out again. When Snape next glanced down the steps, Harry was leaning back in the chair on two legs, trying to balance while staring at the ceiling.

Snape picked up an empty watering can and transfigured it. He strode down the steps. Harry let the chair fall back onto the ground and his eyes bugged out at the sight of a stern Snape walking towards him armed with a wooden paddle that was much bigger than the one he kept in his desk.

“No! No, god, no! I’ll finish! I’ll finish!” Harry grabbed his quill and immediately started writing. Snape hid a smile. He had no intention of smacking him again. He set the paddle down on the edge of the desk right where Harry could see it.

“No more wasting time.” He said in his sternest teacher voice.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll finish.” Harry promised.

He worked diligently for twenty more minutes before finally putting the quill down.

“I’m done!” He called. He made a face at the paddle.

“Put it on my desk and come in here.” Snape responded from the greenhouse.

A strange mix of excitement and anxiety mixed in his belly as Harry ascended the steps. Snape was standing by the tiny cauldron. The fire was off and the potion was steaming.

“It’s ready.” Snape said.

Harry gulped and watched Snape pour the entire contents of the tiny cauldron into a cup.

“Drink it all.” Snape instructed. “All in one go, if you can.”

“What are the side effects?”

“Exhaustion is the most reported effect. Granted, I could find very little literature on it.” Snape said. “You may sleep on the sofa. You’ve already been excused from classes this afternoon.”

Harry nodded.

He held the cup, staring at the the liquid that had faded from a bright aqua to a pale blue. He tilted it to his mouth and gulped it down. It wasn’t a bad taste, but it certainly wasn’t good. Creamy and bitter with a hint of peppermint and licorice and the medicinal tang of a healing potion. Harry drank it all and then blinked a few times.

“Anything?” Snape asked, taking the cup from him.

“No, not yet.”

“Go on to the sofa.”

Harry turned to the stairs and immediately felt dizzy. He grabbed for the edge of the table, missed, and would have crashed to the stone floor if Snape hadn’t lunged forward and caught him. Snape staggered as the full weight of a fifteen year old filled his arms and he eased him to the floor. He muttered several words that would put Harry in detention for a month if he had spoken them.

“Snape…” Harry rubbed his forehead. “I feel weird.”

“I would imagine so. Are you in pain?”

“…no…”

Snape tried to guide him up but Harry’s feet weren’t working.

“I’m so dizzy and sleepy….”

With a grunt Snape managed to hoist him into his arms and carry him down the stairs and to the sofa. He placed Potter on the squashy cushions and the boy was instantly asleep.

He slept the entire day. Snape would pop in after his classes and check on him. He had used the assessment incantation to keep track of Harry’s vitals and a softly glowing blue net hovered in the air over his sleeping body. Had Snape known Harry would instantly pass out into a deep sleep he’d have given him the potion in the infirmary on a bed. He thought of notifying Poppy Pomfrey but per the assessment web everything was normal and there was no cause for concern. In the afternoon, Snape sent for a glass of water and a bowl of broth. He set the broth on a low stool beside the sofa and charmed the bowl to stay warm.

Harry woke up in the late afternoon. It took him a moment to process where he was. His sleep had been deep, like he had chugged a triple dose of Dreamless Sleep. He blinked a few times, then sat up, wide awake. The antidote. Had it worked? Where was Snape?

He saw the steaming bowl of broth. His mouth salivated and he eagerly picked up the ceramic bowl, forgoing the spoon to tilt the salty, hearty broth right into his mouth. He drank it all down and drained the glass of water. Much more awake now, he stood and poked his head around the corner. Snape wasn’t at his desk. The greenhouse at the top of the steps was closed. Harry went to the door that lead out to the classroom and put his ear against it, listening. Snape was talking, probably teaching.

Harry wandered around the space. He looked over the gross things in jars and made a face before moving on. Harry went to the man’s desk and looked at the strewn papers. Snape was generally pretty tidy but the desk surface was in slight disarray. Harry saw his name on a document and couldn’t help himself. He leaned over and read.

“Potter…antidote ingredients…” There were a bunch of wizard and witch names listed, some of which had ingredients bullet-pointed underneath, followed by best times to contact, methods, and what Snape had spoken about with them. There were at least a dozen names here. These were the people Snape had contacted in search of an antidote. Snape’s notes were mostly in English but a few paragraphs were in Snape’s hand in French. Snape knew French? Harry moved the page and looked at the stack underneath.

Some people had provided ingredients, some had told him where to procure ingredients, some had provided general information about the ingredients and side effects, or in some cases, they’d given information on the Draught of Asphodel itself. He read, learning that the Nox rubrum would likely wear off on its own about a year after administration. So by the start of the next school year, he would have been rid of it regardless of whether he’d taken an antidote. He frowned. Why had Snape bothered? It was already practically June. Harry kept reading. Some contacts had offered an ingredients trade. Harry supposed it made sense. Just as there were potion ingredients unique to other parts of the world, Britain must have it’s own share hard to get elsewhere. Another page was just a list of books jotted in Snape’s flourished scrawl, some of which Harry recognized from the library.

He sank into the man’s comfortable desk chair, overwhelmed. Snape had spent a ton of time on this. He’d really been devoting himself to finding a solution and antidote and Harry didn’t fully appreciate that until now. How could ever thank him, especially now when it was clear Snape was disgusted with him?

“See anything interesting?” Snape’s hard tone from the doorway startled Harry. He shot to his feet. He hadn’t heard the door open.

“Uh, n-no. I mean yes, I mean, I was just walking around and…”

“Decided to go through my desk?” Snape walked over to the desk and put a textbook and a few notebooks down. Harry hurried away.

“Did it work?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know. I suppose we’re going to find out since I’m none too pleased.” He pointed at the armless chair. “Sit.”

Harry sat without thinking. “I’m sorry, I saw my name a page there and I…”

“Decided to read it even though it’s not yours.” Snape sat down and gave Harry a stern look.

“It’s my name.” Harry said in a small voice.

“It’s my desk. Did you eat?” Snape asked. He pulled some folders out of the stack of his teaching stuff.

“Yeah. Thanks for the soup.”

Snape nodded. “Any attacks?”

Harry did a mental scan of his body. Nothing.

“No?” He took a deep breath. Could it be?

“Stand up.” Snape commanded.

Harry started to but stopped himself. “No.” He said.

“Potter.” Snape’s voice had a hard edge to it, one Harry was familiar with. “Get up!”

“No!” Harry shot back.

Snape shook his head. “I don’t actually care if you stand or not so it may not react. What else…” Snape trailed off, trying to think of a way to get genuinely annoyed by Harry. When had that become difficult?

Harry stood up and grabbed a rack of empty potions vials off a shelf. He threw it to the stone floor and bits of glass scattered everywhere.

“Hey!” Snape said.

Harry grabbed a copy of the textbook on the desk and ripped a handful of pages out.

“Stop that!” Snape got up and grabbed the boy. He all but threw him into the chair in front of his desk.

Harry froze, waiting for the familiar stabbing pain. When no attacks came, he couldn’t help a tentative smile. “Nothing.” He said.

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah!” Harry stood up. “Before, last time, it wasn’t as bad but I was getting all tight and sore before my chest started to hurt…now there’s nothing! There’s no pain or anything!”

He giggled. He jumped to his feet. “It’s gone!” He shouted.

Snape watched him, amused as Harry actually did a little jig.

“I don’t have to listen to you anymore!” Harry said in a teasing voice. Snape was tempted to smack him on the backside just to prove him wrong but instead he waved his wand and repaired everything, sending the vials flying back up to the shelves and the book pages back to the binding.

“So that’s it?” Harry said.

Snape looked amused. “Do you have any side effects from the antidote?” He summoned the readout from the assessment web and found all signs were normal.

“No?” Harry said. “I was expecting something more dramatic. Boils and sores, or something.”

“Well, the Draught of Asphodel was originally developed as a way to keep servants obedient. It would make sense, I suppose, that once the servant is released from their work the master would no have no interest in them anymore. There’s no reason for the antidote to have any untoward effects.”

Harry nodded, giddy and thrilled. “I’m really happy it worked.”

“As am I.”

“And, look, I know it wasn’t easy.” Harry said. “You spent a load of time finding out about this and I really appreciate it.”

The bell tolled for dinner but neither of them moved.

“But now,” Harry continued, “you don’t have to spend half your time hitting me and talking to loads of people about this.” He shrugged. “I won’t be a bother to you anymore. Honestly, sir, thank you.”

He turned to go.

“You never were, Harry.” Snape’s words stopped him.

Harry.

He turned around. “Were what?”

“You were never a bother.”

“Really?” He blurted. “You had to take the time, your office time, to deal with me. You had to talk to all those other wizards and witches and brew the antidote. I was useless about this. It was all on you.”

“Stop.” Snape commanded. “Give yourself some credit, Potter.”

The boy’s face fell and he looked down. He looked sad. Snape wondered what that was about. He kept talking. “You endured several rounds of beatings. I spank the Slytherins when they deserve it but I’ve never punished a student like I did you and I never would in a normal situation.”

“Because the potion would kill me if I didn’t come to you.” Harry said. Didn’t Snape see? It wasn’t bravery, it was self preservation.

“Still.” Snape said. “You sought me out and endured it. That’s not nothing. I wasn’t easy on you.”

Harry still didn’t think that bending over and crying were noteworthy but he was lapping up the praise. He was embarrassed by how much a few kind words and a pat on the shoulder did for him, especially coming from Snape. He would miss that. To his absolute horror he felt his eyes fill and he hastily turned away.

“What’s wrong, Potter?” Snape had that gentle tone again and it did nothing to make the tears stop.

“Harry.” He muttered.

“What?”

“Sometimes you call me ‘Harry’ and sometimes you call me ‘Potter.’ Why?”

Snape was lost. “Explain, please.”

Harry spoke to the floor. “You only call me Potter when you’re upset with me and you call me Harry when everything’s fine but then you made me bend over the chair like you hated me and you called me Potter and before that you were calling me Harry.”

Now Snape was really lost.

“Sit.” He pointed at the chair. Dinner was probably almost over but neither of them were going to leave this room until everything was sorted. “Repeat what you said.” Snape told him.

“No, it’s stupid.” Harry spoke to his knees.

Merlin’s beard.

“Harry. You prefer being called Harry?” He clarified.

“When you’re not pissed off at me, yeah. Because otherwise I don’t know if you are.”

“Alright. Harry. Talk.”

“It’s stupid.” Harry repeated, shifting in his chair.

“Say it anyway.” Snape said, getting annoyed. “And look up when you’re speaking to me.”

Harry lifted his head and began addressing the fireplace. “When you would hit me you would always put me over your leg and at first I hated that because I’d never been spanked before—”

Snape’s eyes went wide at this.

“—but then after a while I felt better about it because it was like, you were like, holding me or something and that made it all easier and sometimes you’d call me Harry and, like, touch my back and that was nice and it made all this shit bearable but then, then when you hit me before, after quidditch you made me bend over the chair and I hated that and you caned me and called me Potter and I figured you hated me and thought I was weak and pathetic and to be fair, I am being pathetic but,” his face went pink, “you helped me a lot this year and I missed it. And you.” He glanced at Snape and looked away quickly. “You were hitting me hard and you weren’t even touching me. See I told you it was stupid!”

Harry shut his mouth. At the last moment, he added, “please don’t take the broom away.” He could have kept going but he figured he embarrassed himself enough. Snape would laugh at him and that would be that. Snape was silent. Harry glanced over at him. The man’s eyes were closed and he was rubbing both his temples in a slow, meditative motion. He looked up, opened his mouth, closed his mouth, then got up and came around the desk and sat in the other armless chair.

“Alright.” Snape said. Harry had said a lot of things and he felt wildly out of his depth. He put his hand on Harry’s knee. McGonagall would do that when she was attempting to offer comfort. It usually worked. “First, I don’t hate you. Second, I’m not taking the broom away. Third, I don’t think you’re weak or pathetic. Didn’t I just say how admirably you’ve handled everything?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. It’s true. I didn’t know any of this.” Snape said. “I didn’t know that my using your first name or surname mattered. And, I didn’t have you bend over the chair because I was upset or bothered by you. I did it because the Nox rubrum almost killed you last time. I was out of the cardiac potions and I didn’t think having you over my knee would be good enough anymore. I can hit harder while standing.” He said. He added softly, “that’s why I caned you too.”

Harry took a deep breath, remembering the hot biting jolt of the cane. It had only been two strokes but the pain had been breathtaking.

“I didn’t want to cane you but more than that, I didn’t want you dead.”

Harry was quiet, looking at his fingers in his lap. After a moment he said, “you don’t want me dead?”

“Wha—of course I don’t want you dead!” Snape growled.

“I don’t know!” Harry shot back. “You’ve hated me for five years! The first time you spanked me you seemed to actually enjoy it!”

Snape let out a quick breath. “In your first year, we got off on the wrong foot and that was largely my fault.”

“Thank you.” Harry said quietly.

“Doesn’t help that you always faff about in my class.”

“Potions is hard!” Harry countered.

“Which is why you should take care to pay attention.” Snape said through grit teeth.

Harry slumped back in the chair.

“The first time I spanked you, I thought you deserved it. Truly, Harry, you have gotten away with a great deal of rule breaking.”

“I’ve been punished plenty. I get detentions.”

“Yes, and you continue to break the school rules. I assure you, if I was in charge of your discipline you would have received far fewer detentions and far more smacks with the paddle.”

Harry scowled.

“My opinion of you has certainly changed, Harry.” Snape said quietly. “I treated you unfairly your first few years here but I will strive to do better from now on.”

Harry nodded. “I believe it. And, er, mine too.” He said. “I mean, my opinion of you.”

“Have you recovered from our last encounter?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “That cream stuff you sent up that night helped a lot.”

“Good.” Snape leaned back in his chair and thought. The boy’s behavior in Minerva’s office—that night he’d blown up Umbridge’s office—when he didn’t want Snape to stand up made more sense now. Harry apparently saw the distance itself as a punishment.

Snape glanced at the clock. They had nine minutes left of dinner. If it was any other night he’d say hell with it and try to encourage Harry to talk more. Snape had questions. As Head of Slytherin though, he had to go to the feast because after the meal Dumbledore would announce who won the cup. It probably wasn’t them, he’d been pissed off all week about having to cane Harry and docking points like a mad man.

“There’s more I want to say to you,” he said, “and I think there’s more I should hear, but I don’t want you to miss dinner. Can you come back here after?”

Harry nodded fast. “Yeah. I will.”

“Alright, then. You okay?”

Harry nodded again, relieved. “Yeah.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

They went through the teacher’s entrance because that was faster and Snape finally made it to the staff table. He yanked his chair out and dropped down beside Minerva.

“There you are!”

“These children will drive me into an early grave.” He growled. He immediately reached for his wine glass.

Professor Flitwick nodded knowingly and passed him a bowl of rolls. Most people were done eating and the Great Hall was noisier than usual.

“Which one this time?” McGonagall asked.

“Same one it’s been all term.” He said, slicing into the prime rib. They both looked at the Gryffindor table, where Harry was loading up a plate and laughing with his friends. Snape gave her a very abbreviated version of what had happened in his office.

“Oh, and he’s cured.”

“That’s wonderful news!” She touched his shoulder. “Harry must be thrilled. He’s a sensitive lad.” She said sadly. “His muggle relatives are a poor substitute for a real family. Bunch of nutters.” She shrugged and put her hands out. “Teachers are some of the only consistent authority figures in his life.”

“I gathered.” Snape said, sipping more wine.

“He so badly wants to be close to you, Severus!” She patted his arm. “Especially after the rubbish term he had.”

Snape wondered if she’d had a little end-of-year tipple with Professor Sprout before the meal. She wasn’t usually so touchy feely. “Do you think?”

“Yes. Face it, the relationship you have has changed.”

Snape knew this, but he had no idea how much it really had changed.

After dinner, Harry and Snape went back to his office and he called up cups of herbal tea. Snape transfigured the armless chairs into more comfortable armchairs and they sat before the fire rather than Snape’s desk.

“What is your relationship with your muggle relatives?” Snape asked, sipping.

Harry took a deep breath and looked at the cup in his hands. “My aunt and uncle don’t really give a shit about me. They ignore me as much as they can and my cousin beats me up every chance he gets. Well, not so much anymore, but he did when I was younger. Well, you saw.”

Snape nodded. He remembered what he’d seen in the boy’s memories. “What do you do for fun there?” Snape asked.

“I write my friends and hope they write back. Maybe walk around the neighborhood. It’s kinda boring though…I don’t really have a lot of time for fun.”

“Why not?”

“They make me do chores…” Harry said. He looked like he might say more but instead he drank some tea.

Snape changed the subject. “Do you have any contact with the magical world other than your friends?”

“No.”

“What do your relatives do when you break a rule?”

Harry bit his lip. “When they’re upset they lock me in my room for days, maybe shove food under the door if they remember.”

Snape clenched his fist. “Do they talk to you? Do they ask about school?”

Harry laughed. “No, not at all. They hate this ‘freak school.’ They like me to make no noise and pretend I’m not there.”

“Why did you think I’d take the broom away?”

Harry colored and looked down. “Freaks don’t deserve nice things.”

Snape grit his teeth. This was no living situation for any child, especially one as bright as Harry. Even his own parents had paid attention to him. His mother moreso than his horrible father. Minerva was right. Harry lacked any kind of parental figure in his life besides the teachers. No wonder the boy had no discipline or regard for his own safety. He didn’t regard his own because no one regarded his.

“Are you spending the whole summer with them?” Snape asked.

“Yeah.” He said in a dull voice. “I might go to Ron’s at some point. It can be hard to set something up because my aunt and uncle don’t want any of ‘my kind’ coming round the house. They hate the owls.”

The first curfew bell tolled. It was ten minutes to nine.

“Next term,” Snape said seriously, “you and I can spend more time together if you’d like. I’ll give you my schedule again and if you want, you can come to my office hours whenever you want and for whatever reason.”

Harry nodded, looking relieved. “I’d like that.” He stood up and Snape followed.

“Here.” Snape handed him a sealed envelope.

“What’s this?”

“That’s to be read when your relatives are being horrible to you.” He laid his hand on Harry’s back and escorted him to the door.

Harry clutched it tight like a lifeline.

“Thanks, Professor, for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Harry. Now go on and pack.”

The dorms were a flurry of activity the next morning. Some students had packed already but everyone in Harry’s dorm was busy jamming things into trunks, double-checking behind shelves, and promising to write and meet over summer. Harry left his trunk at the end of his bed along with his Moonshot and Hedwig in her cage. It would all get vanished to the train with the other trunks and items.

The platform in Hogsmeade was a madhouse. Owls hooted, kids cried and hugged. Teachers bid students farewell. Ron and Hermione were doing their prefect duties and directing the younger students around and generally keeping order as the train boarded and arguments over compartments broke out. Hagrid enveloped Harry in a bear hug as huge tears rolled into his beard. McGonagall gave Harry a quick hug.

“Have a good summer, Harry. You deserve it.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Professor. Thanks for your help this year.”

“You’re very welcome, Harry.” She squeezed his hand.

Harry glanced around, sort of hoping to see Snape. He didn’t though. Harry wondered if Snape ever came to these farewell boardings. He had never looked for him before. The train whistle blew a warning. Harry and Neville hopped on and found a compartment in the back with Luna and Ginny. The train pulled out of the station and Hermione and Ron appeared and dropped into the empty seats.

“Whinging little shrimps!” Ron muttered, taking off his prefect badge and stuffing it in his pocket. “I swear I was not that tiny or annoying.”

“I remember differently” Hermione said in a dry tone beside him.

“Oy!” Ron nudged her and Hermione kissed his nose.

The train chugged off into wild countryside and after a few hours, as the sun was starting to set and the trolley-witch had been by, Harry’s curiosity got the better of him. Snape’s letter was metaphorically burning a hole in his pocket and Harry wondered what on earth it said. Snape had said for him to read it when the Dursleys were being awful (which wouldn’t take long at all) but Harry was curious now. He glanced around the compartment. Hermione and Ron were talking to Ginny. Luna was reading. No one was paying attention to him. He slipped the envelope from his pocket and read the short letter:

Dear Harry,

If you are in need of anything at all over the break or simply want to chat, send a message with your owl. You ’re not alone and there are people who want to help you and want you to succeed. I am one of them. I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Professor Snape

There was another, smaller piece of paper included in the envelope and Harry’s eyes widened. Snape’s address, and underneath, the words For emergencies. I trust you will not share this with anyone.

Harry tucked both pages reverently back into the envelope and slipped it into his pocket. He would suffer through the summer with his relatives as he had been doing for the last fifteen years but it was a relief to know he had an out this time. It had been a strange year for a number of reasons. He never thought when he came to Hogwarts last fall that he would leave for summer holidays with a fragile relationship with Snape of all people. Of all the things he’d gained this year, a friendship with an adult who cared was easily the most valuable.

The End