Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

CH 3: Injured Hearts
You!” Draco Malfoy stood up, clearly not expecting any stray visitors down in the dungeons. His newly disheveled look took Harry by surprise. The Slytherin looked wary and shakily gripped his wand by his side. His face was bruised with scrapes all down the side of his face. His hair was slightly messy but clean. Unlike Harry, at least he was careful to manage his appearance.

“Malfoy! What are you doing here?” Harry approached him cautiously.

“None of your business, Potter, “Draco frowned. He adjusted his shirt, in a feeble attempt to make himself look more presentable and divert Harry’s gaze from his unkempt appearance.

“I-I thought you left with your family after the fight?”

Draco paused, wand still shakily clutched to his side. His frown crinkled, “I did. But I, uh…Decided to come back and help out. My father didn’t want me to, but I did anyway. No one else knows I’m here. Except for nosey Potter here, obviously.”

Harry shook his head in confusion.

“You seemed rather shocked.”

“Yeah, I am, actually. I didn’t expect to see you here at all. Why come back?“

Draco folded his arms and decided to lean against the cold stone wall. Occasionally he shot a glance at Harry but mostly stood there gazing at the painted portraits on the wall across from him. He sighed deeply, “Don’t know, to be honest. I know I messed up. Maybe coming here will help me come to terms with what happened, because of me. But being here makes me feel ten times worse, though.”

Harry listened to every word, and felt a little pang of sympathy for him, “Yeah, well, you did mess up. But you didn’t exactly have the greatest moral influence in your family, so I can’t completely blame you for that.”

“What would you know about that, perfect Potter?!” Draco’s gaze snapped to Harry; his mouth twisted in an arrogant snarl Harry was all too familiar with. “I was supposed to make The Dark Lord proud. I was supposed to bring glory to my family’s name!”

“Yeah, and he threatened you with death if you didn’t do what he wanted you to do. Because that turned out so well for you,“ Harry retorted, cleaning not overthrown by the expression of fury etching on the Slytherin’s face.

“How DARE you!” Draco moved from the wall, and in one swift motion, withdrew his wand and pointed it directly at Harry. Harry, followed suit and did the same. “You don’t get it, do you? I didn’t have a choice!”

“Yeah well, neither did I, when I had to allow myself to be murdered to bring Voldemort down!” Harry looked at his opponent’s wand, “Do you really want to do this again?”

“Don’t say his name…Please – “ Draco bit back his next response, still reeling and shaken over his near-death encounter last year when Harry sliced him open with a deadly spell. His wand arm shaking, clearly in slight distress. Slowly, Harry started to lower his wand, and seconds later, Draco did the same. Both young men locked in defiant gaze, but slowly realised that they both had endured enough fighting for a lifetime.

“I don’t want to fight you, Malfoy. Not again,“ Harry lowered his voice, “We’ve all lost enough, and you know it.”

Swallowing his words down, Draco nodded slowly. His face softened, and now he looked incredibly sad. “Yeah. We did.”

Harry drew in a deep breath, “Thank you for coming back…For helping me defeat him. You had a hand in that, too, despite everything.”

“I don’t want your thanks. We are not friends, Potter. Nor will we ever be.”

“No, we aren’t. But I don’t want to be enemies, either. Fighting over petty things…There are more important things to worry about. Especially now. “

Draco sighed. “Yeah. Those days are gone. Still not sorry I broke your nose last year and left you on the Hogwarts Express.” Draco smirked.

Harry snorted, “Didn’t think you would be.”

Harry noticed Draco rubbing his left forearm, from where the Dark Mark was etched into his skin. Draco noticed his gaze, and hastily stopped and clenched his jaw, “Old habit. But on the upside, at least it’s faded now. Bloody relieved, actually. Worst decision I ever made, to be honest. ”

For the first time in his nemesis’ company, Harry gave him a genuine smile, “Really glad to hear that. Draco. Really.”

Draco was taken aback by this sudden kind gesture, enough to cause him to hesitate. His face relaxed, and eventually, he too, smiled, in his odd way, “Uh, thanks. I suppose.”

“By the way, out of curiosity – What was that healing spell you used on Snape? When you saved him…Was that the same one he used on you, when I, uh…”

“Viciously sliced me open?”

Harry winced, “- Yeah.”

“Vulnera sanentur. You kind of have to, well…sing it. Chant three times. Enforce it with a melody, as Snape said. He invented it, you know. I asked him to teach me that counter-spell.”

“Thanks – That’s handy to know. I’ll keep that in mind.“ Harry nodded.

“Say, Potter?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for saving my life in the Room. From the fire. You know…” Draco looked slightly awkward in his apology, and found it difficult to hold his gaze to the infamous Chosen One, “I you didn’t want to.”

Harry nodded, “No matter how much of an arse you’ve been, I couldn’t leave you to die.” Harry took a few steps back, hinting at the end of their conversation, “I have to go. See you around?”

Draco pocketed his wand and shrugged, “Maybe.” And with that, he walked off down the corridor of the dungeons, disappearing from view.

For once, Harry was relieved that their encounter didn’t end in a fight. He still had so much he wanted to say, but for now, he was content with their mutual interaction, and a part of him hoped that they will meet again. He wasn’t expecting friendship, but a mutual understanding would have been enough for him to bear with. After all, Draco redeemed himself in the end, and despite their past differences and conflict, he turned things around for himself eventually. It was Draco who threw Harry his wand in his final confrontation with Voldemort, and for that, Harry was appreciative, and it was enough to be softer within his judgment of him.

Soon after the two parted ways, Harry made his way to the kitchens as intended. There were a few House Elves present – He suspected some had perished within the battle, but some must have been assigned to help repair the school. Harry requested an assortment of food, including sandwiches, apples, several vegetable pasties, and some custard tarts. Once the elves fulfilled his request, he packed them in a bag and made his way back out. He decided to make a short detour to the Potions lab – specifically the office. He was hoping to avoid running into anyone else at this point, as he had no desire to explain to people what he was doing prowling the dungeons and raiding the kitchens.

Eventually, he reached Professor Slughorn’s office – formerly, Snape’s – and entered to find everything had been rummaged through and destroyed. Well, most of everything. Others had passed through here, but he guessed it was mainly for purpose of battle that some individuals would find some of the pre-made potions useful. Retrieving an empty satchel from the desk, he sifted through the remaining untouched potions within the broken cabinets, hoping to find anything of use. He pulled a few assortments of vials and stashed them in the satchel while using a few cleaning charms to remove all of the broken glass and potion remnants from the cold stone floor.

Once he was satisfied enough, he made the long journey back to the Gryffindor common room hoping that he would still remain undetected from any wayward students or teachers wanting to ask him questions, or ask if he was okay, as much to his annoyance. Frankly, he was sick of people treating him like a fragile bomb waiting to go off, which irritated him more than he anticipated. He reached the Gryffindor Common room and was relieved to find Dean and Professor McGonagall had left the post in the Grand Staircases. Harry approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, and without hesitating, opened the door without asking for the password. Harry was relieved to find her oddly compliant, but in all honestly, the last thing he wanted to be dealing with was a stubborn portrait demanding a password at a time like this.

The Gryffindor common room was eerie and empty. No one was present, and belongings seemed to have been cleared out already. He walked up to his old dormitory and retrieved his rucksack that he stashed earlier a few days ago. He was thankful to find it still there, as it contained his treasured Invisibility Cloak. Retrieving the silvery cloak, he allowed it to slide over his head, making him disappear instantly. Once he was ready, he sneakily made his way back downstairs, and out of the school grounds without drawing attention to himself.

He eventually made his way to the Whomping Willow, and snuck through the tunnel, in a bid to reach the Shrieking Shack. He was a little late, and he hoped his old Professor was still there. He felt kind of strange being here, but he seemed to be the only one who gave a damn about him being alive. Everyone else didn’t seem to care all that much, and Harry felt a strange kind of duty to show him some acknowledgment. They had much to work out – After all, Snape risked his life for his, despite the bitterness they showed to each other in the past. There was still some method of dislike for one another, but as Albus said, he needed to try and make an effort in repairing relationships. If that failed, well, at least he tried. Harry’s conscious would not allow him to just forget. In the memory of his mother, he had to at least try.

Finally reaching the tunnel entrance to the shack, he made his way through, flung off his Cloak, and stuffed it back in his rucksack. Immediately, he could hear the echoing sounds of piano keys - A small melody playing. The sound emanated throughout the abandoned house. It was a pleasant sound. Beautiful, actually. The tune itself was soft and melancholy; Gentle with each key played. It wasn’t a masterpiece, but it was far from amateur. Harry wandered to the room with the old dusty piano, to find Severus Snape at the helm. He must have been too lost in the melody, to hear Harry approach from the other side.

“That sounds really nice, sir, “Harry was actually quite impressed. He had no idea Snape was even musically inclined, but he gathered the old piano was rather fitting for him.

Accidentally slamming on the wrong note, Snape cursed under his breath and turned to face Harry Potter glaring at him from the other side of the room. Snape was taken slightly aback. He clasped his hands together, and raised his eyebrow, “You returned. You shouldn’t have bothered, Potter.”

Harry shrugged, “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t have?”

“Well, you loathe me for one,“ Snape said coolly.

“That feeling is mutual, I’m sure.”

“Despite your father being one of the reasons for my dislike of you, I never loathed you. I loathed what you represented. There’s a difference,“ Snape pursed his lips.

“Right -“ Harry said, with a slight shrug. He dropped his bag to the table beside the old tattered maroon armchair, and with Snape curiously watching, he retrieved all the food items from the kitchen. He placed Snape’s share on the piano beside him, including a large pitcher of pumpkin juice, and Snape simply eyed the Gryffindor in cautious curiosity. He seemed both amused and irritated at the boy’s unlikely presence. With Snape, the lines of expression were always thin. “– Here. I figured since you’ve chosen to barricade yourself in here, you clearly haven’t eaten anything since…Well, you know.”

Peering into the bag of freshly made sandwiches, the brooding ex-teacher cast another glance at Harry, not knowing if he should take this seriously.

“I’m not going to poison you, if that’s what you were thinking,“ Harry down on the armchair and took a hefty bite from one of his pasties, only just realising how hungry he was. He could not recall the last thing he ate. It seemed the weight of the last few days, caused him to lose his appetite. However, he really needed the energy.

“How ironic. This really wasn’t necessary, but…appreciative.“ Snape retrieved one of the sandwiches and began eating in small intervals like a bird.

“Kinda was, sir. Don’t want you starving to death in here,“ Harry said. He noticed the man looked rather sickly, his sallow face more gaunt than when he saw him yesterday. The wounds, as he could see on his neck, were raw and red. Some spotting of fresh blood was more evident on his old white shirt.

“Sir, are you? –“ Harry asked.

The man noticed his gaze, “– Fine, Potter.“

Harry immediately began to ruffle through his bag and retrieved the small satchel of potions and other supplies he retrieved from the potion cabinet in his old office. He handed it to Snape, “Here. I took some potions that were left and undamaged, from your old office. I figured some might come in handy for you. I also have some essence of murtlap and dittany in there. Should help with your wounds –“

Snape waited a few moments to finish his bite and began to sift through its contents, with a few nods of approval and he carefully lifted each colored vial and inspected its contents. He warily eyed Harry with a burning question clearly in his mind. He gave a heavy sigh, “Why are you really here, Potter? Clearly, you have more enlightening things to do with your time, than bear with my miserable company?”

Harry leaned back in his chair, and his eyes darted from his ex-Professor to the distant view of Hogsmeade from the sun-lit window. “Honestly, I really don’t know. I guess I felt like I should be here. I’d feel bad if I didn’t. Plus being at Hogwarts at this time is not doing my mind any favors.”

Snape slowly set down his half-eaten sandwich, and eyed Harry Potter with a softened gaze, “…Unfinished business?”

“For lack of a better term, yeah, I suppose,“ Harry shrugged. “I’m just not sure what I’m supposed to do now.”

Snape raised an eyebrow, “You don’t appear satisfied with your victory, Potter? After your ordeal, it is not wrong to feel conflicted and consumed by grief and wariness.”

“That’s just it – I don’t feel much of anything. How do you deal with it, sir? I mean, all those years you spent working with Voldemort - You’ve had to watch so many die by his hand. How does one even cope with that?”

Snape drew in a soft breath, “Everyone has their own coping methods – Most likely, unhealthy ones. I spent many years working in the presence of the Dark Lord. I wasn’t exactly under ideal circumstances to allow myself to feel anything. I couldn’t take the risk. One hesitation or waver in emotion would have resulted in my instant death. You, on the other hand, Potter, were lucky you never had to endure and witness what I did. However, I daresay you would have made a terrible Death Eater.”

Harry snorted, “Yeah, I don’t think I would have lasted that long as one.“

“Nevertheless, the pain of loss is often unbearable. And sometimes, that pain never truly leaves us -” Snape’s voice trailed off to almost a whisper.

Harry looked away, not expecting this subject to come up this quickly. His mind wandered off to all those he lost in the last four years – Sirius, Cedric, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Colin, Hedwig, Dobby, MadEye…Harry shifted rather uncomfortably in his seat.

Snape noticed the young Gryffindor’s sudden change in mood and eyed him cautiously. Leaning slightly forward in his chair, his voice soft, “You still didn’t answer my question as to why you are here. A sufficient answer is needed, Potter.”

Harry glanced back at Snape, feeling a little sheepish. “I guess I needed someone to talk to. Maybe because, oh, I dunno…You would understand better than most? I can’t exactly talk to Professor McGonagall, or Molly, or even Ron and Hermione, about this. About what I’m feeling.”

“I’m not your therapist, Potter. I am the last person you should confide in or talk to. “

“I know that, but maybe…” Harry thought for a moment, “Maybe, I need someone to help me snap out of it. You seem to be good at that.”

Snape furrowed his brow in confusion, not fully understanding the strange request. “What? And you think I will be the one to do that? Fine – Get over yourself, Potter.”

“No - I am being serious. Not that you’ve ever really taken me seriously all these years,“ Harry frowned.

Snape sighed, “Well, you were always one of my least favorite students to teach.”

“Oh come on, I wasn’t that bad.“

Snape raised his eyebrow in amusement, “You were amateur at best. You never paid any mode of attention in my class, and were often irresponsible.”

“You were either hurling insults or generally being a power-tripping git. So don’t mind me for being a little annoyed by that,” Harry frowned, shifting in his seat.

“Excuse me, Potter? What did you call me?” Snape’s expression suddenly twisted into a scowl.

“Don’t deny it, sir. You wouldn’t exactly win ‘teacher of the year’.”

“I taught the children of Death Eaters in my House. My hatred of you had to be evident and valid. Enough to satisfy my Slytherins. However, I had enough of my own reasons to put you in your place with your cheek. I had to be rather - extreme.”

“Then why give me a difficult time trying to teach me Occlumency? None of your Slytherins were there. You weren’t really teaching me anything. If anything, those lessons left me feeling worse.”

Snape snapped back, clearly offended. “I was teaching you discipline, Potter. Control. Clearly, those lessons were doomed from the start, I was well aware. But I eventually came to realise that you were too consumed in your emotions to truly master this skill. A trait, that dare I say it – Lies with your mother.”

“Well, if you’d stopped seeing me as James, maybe those lessons would have been more successful! Yes, I have emotions – I’m human. What were you expecting me to be? Emotionally rigid like yourself? I know my dad was a git for bullying you, but I am not my father.”

Snape was bordering on furious now, “Are you calling me emotionless? Watch your words, Potter!”

“Or what? You’ll have me scrubbing cauldrons again?”

Snape stood up suddenly from his chair, seething in anger. His face was white as a sheet, as he clasped the top of the piano to steady himself. “How dare you - You have clearly worn out your welcome. You need to leave – “

Harry noticed he looked a little more sickly. He watched as his ex-Professor swayed on the spot, beads of sweat now evident on his face. The young Gryffindor, feeling slightly panicked, rushed to his side, as the man stumbled back, trying to regain composure. His weight slumped against Harry as he toppled over, but Harry managed to sling the man’s arm over his shoulder just in time before he hit the floor. Slowly, he guided the man towards the old wooden bed in the corner and lowered him into it. Harry raced back to grab the satchel, and sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Snape started to cough up blood. Harry couldn’t help but feel so mad and furious with himself. Maybe he was a git like his father.

“What’s happening? I thought Draco gave you the antidote?” Harry rustled through the bag and hastily pulled out an assortment of multi-colored vials and jars.

Snape shifted himself higher on the bed to sit up but felt as though the room was spinning. He shut his eyes in an attempt to control his vertigo and nausea building up. “He did. I had only time to…procure one antidote…with Nagini’s venom – It was trial and error. Remnants of the venom still flow within my veins. The effects of the anti-venom…began to lose potency yesterday…I couldn’t fully eradicate it from my system.”

Harry gave a sigh of frustration and pulled out a few more vials. “That didn’t work? I have a few antidotes here…Might help slow it down?” He held each vial up.

“Won’t make much difference, Potter…Nagini was no normal snake, as you know full well,“ Snape coughed a few times and closed his eyes again, trying to focus on steadying his breathing. “That wretched snake was cursed. Its venom will be difficult to treat…and effects likely longer-lasting.”

“Then how did Arthur Weasley survive it?”

“Mr. Weasley spent ample time at St. Mungo’s…and access to specialised medicinal concoctions and spells. I don’t have that luxury, Potter. Besides, once the Dark Lord realised his precious soul fragments were being illuminated…he began adding increased magical protections on her.” He became more breathless with each passing second.

“Just use these. They are better than nothing! Here –“ Harry pulled the top off one of the vials and assisted Snape in pouring the liquid into his mouth. The man spluttered and gasped several times, and Harry looked over in horror, hoping that his not-so-bright idea wasn’t going to kill him. A few minutes passed, and Snape’s breathing became more regular – Some mode of color returning to his face. He eventually drifted off to sleep, and Harry could hear him start to snore lightly. Harry rummaged through his rucksack and pulled out some old pieces of clothing at the bottom, and with Scourgify, they were clean enough to use. He stripped the old clothes into usable pieces. Taking this rare opportunity, he applied pressure to the wound on his neck, to stop the last few trickles of blood from seeping through. Once he was satisfied enough with the clean-up, he began to apply murtlap essence to the wounds he could see, hoping that it could provide some relief upon his waking. Once he was done, he transfigured some of the remaining pieces of cloth into bandages, and gently wrapped them around the man’s neck, covering the horrific wound.

Harry left the man to rest, and curled up on the couch, not wanting to leave the man in the state he was now in. He spent some time lost in his thoughts and felt a pang of guilt for letting himself lose his anger on Snape. Sure Snape fired him up as always, but in all honesty, Harry was no better. The man was right, though. Of course. He needed to learn to control his emotions. He needed to relax his mind somehow, and refrain from letting his anger boil to a tipping point. He just felt so frustrated with everything that has happened, and the newfound knowledge he has thanks to Snape’s memories that were hastily shared with him. His mind was so very conflicted.

But slowly, Harry eventually drifted off to sleep.

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