Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
Our favorite Potion Master's psyche continues to unravel.
CH 33: Of Hearts and Minds
The upcoming Hogwarts memorial was creeping up ever so quickly, which left a very somber atmosphere among the residents at Grimmauld Place. Each individual was doing their best to keep busy to avoid thinking about it too much, but not many words were spoken between them. It was safe to say that admittedly, they all dreaded that day.

The following day, Snape had been busy in their potion's lab replenishing stocks, with Harry occasionally lending him assistance whenever he could. They both did their best to avoid talking about the memorial, or anything else regarding the ritual that Snape was subjected to. The first phase was drawing near, and Harry was extremely anxious about what may happen. It was difficult to remain relaxed when so many heavy things weighed upon his mind at that moment. Effectively, working with Snape seemed to distract his mind, especially when he decided to overload him with alchemy questions to pick the Gryffindor's brain. Due to Harry's frantic train of thought, it was difficult to concentrate at times. At one point he dropped a liquid ingredient on the floor earning an immediate scolding from Snape, who seemed to quickly bit back his words, diffusing the harshness within his voice. Besides the occasional clumsiness, Snape was able to teach him a few techniques, which came as a welcome relief for Harry.

They didn't engage much in conversation this time. It was obvious to both that they were lost in their own thoughts. Except with Harry, who seemed far too consumed by them recently. Harry was impressed by Snape's ability to remain collected, in contrast to the visibly stressed-out and distracted Gryffindor within his company.

Once they were satisfied with their fresh stocks of prepared potions, both Harry and Snape traveled to Hogwarts to check up on the other potions that were still bubbling away. Despite Snape's criticism of the set-up, he had no quarrels regarding the preparation process. Hermione and Ron were already there, close to finishing the first protective potion as Snape continued to study the remainder of the old tome within his hands, absorbing every detail. Occasionally, Harry would look in the man's direction and there was no mistaking the subtle worry on his face. That was enough to cause Harry's heart to sink further into his chest.

They spent the rest of the afternoon at Hogwarts, crossing off further steps to both potions. Once they were able to successfully complete the first protective potion, the next two brews of the same thing – they were required to be repeated to maximize potency – would be easier. Harry stood by the table and watched with interest, as Hermione and Snape tended to both with ease, and yet he could sense the nervousness within Hermione as she worked alongside the strict Potions Professor. He did feel relieved that Snape was fully aware of it now and didn't have to keep this from him. Not to mention, they really needed his expertise in making sure they didn't mess these potions up. They wanted to cure him, not further poison him. Several times that afternoon, Snape was struck with a few dizzy spells, causing him to remain seated and unable to continue during several incidences. Harry continued the potions from him, while Ron had the amusing task of making sure Snape didn't tumble out of his seat. If he wasn't actively involved in the potion-making process, then he was forced onto watcher duties for a man he still heavily disliked.

Once they could proceed no further, Hermione charmed the cauldrons to self-stir once again, as the four of them made their way back to Grimmauld Place. But as they made their way past the Great Hall to exit the building, they were approached by Professor McGonagall, who was gliding up the steps towards them from the opposite direction.

"Ah! I thought I caught a glimpse of you lot, earlier. Follow me, if you please – " The Headmistress beckoned for the four to follow her into the Great Hall, where they gingerly entered after her.

Ron and Hermione followed McGonagall into the Great Hall first, leaving both Harry and Snape trailing behind. Harry's heart seemed to freeze within his chest upon stepping over the threshold, feeling a wave of fresh memories flooding his mind as he tensed and stopped in his tracks. His breath fell out of sync and he presumed that no one else could see. It wasn't until he felt a light nudge to his left shoulder, did he realise that Snape sensed his hesitation. Of course, he did. Harry drew in a deep breath as he looked at Snape beside him with a struggling nod, as they walked together to join the others. McGonagall sat on the edge of the Gryffindor student's bench, close to the entrance door, with Ron and Hermione joining her at her side. Harry and Snape took a seat opposite them.

It was strange being back in the Great Hall. A place once filled with pure, happy memories, now filled them all with despair as the final moments of Voldemort's last stand were still so evident within their minds. Death still filled this room, even despite those horrible events taking place almost a month prior. He obviously felt uncomfortable being here – Perhaps it was a bad idea to return to resume his seventh year of education after all. He couldn't shake the memories that still haunted him. And not just for himself, but for so many others as well.

McGonagall clasped her hands on the table in front of her, and looked sternly at each person within her company, undoubtedly sensing their sorrow, "…I gather you received the letters?" Her question was met with nods, "I understand that this is not what you all want to be dealing with at this present time, but the Minister and I agreed that it mustn't be delayed any longer. There will be extreme safety measures in place to ensure it goes undisturbed."

"As of the Aurors, Minerva?" Snape questioned.

She nodded, "There will be several stationed, yes. The Minister has personally screened them himself. Besides, the rogue Death Eaters would be daft to attack a memorial service filled with hundreds of wizards and witches. Now, Severus, as with you – "

"- I wasn't planning on attending."

Harry turned sharply to frown at Snape, "To hell, you're not."

Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry, clearly unamused by his choice of words, "Because I felt it would be inappropriate for me to be there. However, I cannot be seen. You are aware of that, Potter."

"You can be there, sir. Just…Use the Invisibility Cloak."

McGonagall shot a warned look at Snape, "He's right, Severus. You should attend. No one else has to know." The Headmistress drew in a deep breath, "Filius, Sybill, and Pomona are setting up as we speak, alongside a memorial committee formulated within the Ministry. It will be a service by the Great Lake and we have a monument in their memory in view of where Albus is laid to rest..." She noticed the saddened expressions of the younger Gryffindors, along with Snape's grim one, "This is extremely difficult for everyone. We must finally honor those we lost on that day and lay rest their poor souls."

"I can't believe it's been nearly a month already…" Hermione lowered her head, still in disbelief. Ron extended his arm around her, pulling her closer to him in comfort.

Ron looked at McGonagall with a worried expression, "We don't have to do…well, speeches or anything, do we?"

The Headmistress shook her head slowly, "Not at all, Mr. Weasley. Only if you feel comfortable to," She glanced at Harry, "…You're not obliged to either, Mr. Potter. I wish to make that clear."

Harry swallowed distaste rising nauseatingly within his throat, "I don't think I could cope with that to be honest, Professor."

"Understandable, of course. You've all been through enough. All of you," McGonagall looked at Snape, "Severus, may I have a word with you, privately, please? Excuse me, you three."

"Thank you, Professor, " Hermione responded quietly, as she rose from her seat, with Ron and Harry following closely behind.

The three of them slowly wandered to the main courtyard in silence, with thoughts of the memorial weighing heavily on their minds. Ron still had his arm around Hermione and stopped to embrace each other once they reached the courtyard. Harry watched as both of his best friends held each other for a short while, knowing that he was recently able to share a moment like that with Ginny. After everything that had happened, and was still happening, it was difficult to find moments where they were able to forget things for a little while. Occasionally Harry felt guilty for allowing himself to succumb to those feelings of love and connection with Ginny, because to him, it never felt like the right time. Especially when the threat of danger and further loss was still there. His priorities appeared seemingly skewed.

Eventually, Snape re-joined them once again, as the four of them disapparated back to Grimmauld Place, immediately dispersing in their own respective rooms. Snape was already reserved enough and refused to be unnecessarily sociable, so he retreated immediately to the basement as he usually did to keep his own mind occupied on replenishing further potions stores. Ron and Hermione sat together on the couch in the sitting room in silence, embracing each other in front of the crackling fireplace, while Harry stayed in his room in his own company for a short while, allowing his best friends some time alone.

It was clear at this point, that everyone currently present at Headquarters, was busy thinking about the Memorial in two days' time. The dread of facing everyone still in deep mourning and uncontrollable grief was inevitable. Everyone was still dealing with their own personal losses, and now to attend a large gathering in remembrance for those fifty-odd students, adults, and creatures who lost their lives tragically that day. Harry was still guilt-ridden to attend, but he knew of all people, he had to be there. He couldn't avoid it as much as he wanted to. Now he wished he could have been the one to go unnoticed under the Invisibility Cloak.

Everyone was expecting him to be there.

That night, Harry was overcome by another nightmare. Something he hadn't had for a while, but with the impending memorial, nothing but terrible thoughts ran through his mind which he couldn't escape from. But this nightmare was a little different than his previous one. Yet again, he wasn't just witnessing their deaths all over again. Instead, they were taunting him mercilessly.

"Why didn't you save me?"

"You didn't do enough!"

"Pathetic!"

"It's all your fault!"

"You hid when everyone died for you!"

"Disgrace!"

"The Boy Who Lived, while the rest of us were left to die."


Harry was overcome with anguish, as he shot up in his bed, with the faces of the dead still fresh within his mind. Scrunching up a mass of blankets, he buried his face within them, until his body shook with the sobs he could no longer hold back. His chest felt heavy as it tightened the grip on his heart, so filled with fresh sorrow. Panic rose within him once again, as he struggled to compose himself. But he continued to let go of the tears, gripping the blankets so tightly that his knuckles went white. His muffled cries released the rising tension he held within his body accumulating from the last few days, allowing himself to feel those emotions so deeply. He tried his best to contain them, but they could not be stopped this time. The floodgates finally burst and he could not hold them back any longer.

Heavy footsteps bounded up the staircase, every creak easily distinguished, as Snape entered the room in a slight panic. It must have been still deep within the night because he was now wearing his black night robe which hung loosely around his tall, slender form.

"Potter – "

Harry continued to weep; oblivious to the sounds around him. His chest tightened and he found it incredibly difficult to draw in a breath, even though burying his head within his blankets was not helping matters. His struggling gasp was most evident from the crushing panic. But he knew once he looked up, he could not stop his cries from rising to an uncontrollable crescendo. Especially knowing that Severus Snape was in the room, and the last person he wanted to have witness his waterworks, was this man. He didn't even have to look at him to see that even he did not know how to console the terror-stricken teenager. This was new territory for both of them.

He heard a shuffle beside him, and a pop of a tiny cork – most likely from the vial of Animo Silentium – sitting idly, with about a quarter of the vial remaining.

"Focus, Potter. Deep breath in; Long exhale – " Harry felt the bed dip slightly and he knew the man was perched beside him once more.

But Harry continued to shake his head, struggling to even adhere to what was meant to be a simple task. His choked sobs prevented him from focusing on anything as his mind was far too clouded and obscured. All he could see were the faces of his friends, family, allies…Their deaths still fresh within his mind.

"Potter, I want you to sit on the edge of the bed, immediately. Feet firmly on the ground – " Harry shook his head again, "Do as I say, I will not ask you again. Sit on the edge of the bed and keep a straight posture. It will increase the capacity of your lungs and aid in your breathing…"

Releasing another choked sob, Harry finally threw the blankets aside and swung his legs over the edge with great effort, as if they were made of stone. He finally opened his eyes. The room was dark; faint moonlight cast a pale glow through the old, stained windows. Although, his vision was blurry as his glasses were not on his face, which seemed to work in his favor in slight victory, as the last thing he wanted to do at that moment, was glance up at Snape with a tear-filled face.

"- Concentrate on your breathing – "

Harry's body shuddered at the struggling breaths, feeling his heart beat painfully within his ribcage, "I can't…I can't do this…anymore -"

"- Be silent. Focus."

Harry buried his head within his sweaty palms, feeling his face flush with humiliation and disappointment within himself, "I can't…get them out…of my mind – "

Snape extended his hand with the elixir to Harry, but in the Gryffindor's distraught state, suddenly flung his arm outwards, knocking the vial out of the man's hand. It spun in the air, and hit the wall, shattering into multiple pieces as its pearly liquid splattered across the surface, dripping slowly to the ground. Snape clenched his jaw and recoiled from the sudden action. Harry let out another choked sob in utter defeat.

"Potter, for me to assist, I require your compliance – "

Harry shook his head again, feeling a blinding headache piercing his temple, causing his focus to be unmanageable.

Snape sighed heavily, "Try and visualise your sanctuary, as I taught you that morning, remember? Let the image flood your mind – "

"NO! It won't bloody work!" Harry suddenly cried out in frustration.

"Keep trying, Potter! I cannot help you if you refuse to put the effort in – " Snape watched as Harry bit his lip and upon the teenager's distress, drew blood immediately. The man watched helplessly, as he realised this called for a stronger intervention, "…There is another way, but you will not like it."

"Anything…Please…Take it away…" Harry finally looked up at Snape with pleading, tear-filled green eyes; his wavering voice struggled between breaths, "…I can't keep going…like this…I just want it all to end..."

Snape rose slowly from the edge of the bed and knelt down on the floor directly in front of Harry, finally being able to closely observe the traumatic Gryffindor in front of him. Snape softened his gaze, as he did his best to mask the frustrations upon being unable to provide him with the comfort that he needed.

"As I said you will not like this. For me to help you, I must establish a connection within your mind with…Legilimency," Snape immediately saw Harry tense up upon the term and shake his head in immediate fear. "NO, not like that. This will be…less disruptive. But this time, I must ask for your consent, Potter, if I am to proceed. I will not subject you to that again, unwillingly."

Harry was noticeably conflicted, as he knew how horrible those Occlumency lessons were and the emotional toll that took on his mind. But if there was truly a way for him to ease his suffering at that moment, he was willing to do anything at this point. He just wanted all that pain to stop and he was getting desperate. Eventually, Harry nodded breathlessly, "Just…Just do it."

Relieved, Snape nodded slowly withdrawing his ebony-colored wand, "Good. Now, I recall you mentioned previously that you enjoyed flying. I can work with that – " The man drew in a deep breath, still observing the struggling teenager in front of him, "Now, Potter…Look at me."

It took a few moments to regain Harry's attention, but eventually, the Gryffindor locked eyes with the man kneeling in front of him, wand slowly pointed towards him. He knew he should relax, but from his past experiences with Occlumency, he could not help but tense up defensively in dreaded anticipation. He only hoped that this time will be a different experience.

Instead of Snape's usual commanding tone of voice, he spoke the next word with a delicate softness that seemed to ease Harry's nerves almost instantly.

"- Legilimens."

The room spun around him until all he could see was darkness, and the only thing that could be heard was the sound of Harry's anxiously beating heart thumping within his chest. A few moments passed, and his vision was met with flashes of light in the distance before an image sped into view. The image itself was distorted, but eventually enveloped his entire range of view, catching him by surprise. Suddenly, he found himself on his broomstick. However, it wasn't him exactly, because he was now just a mere bystander, watching a replica of himself. His vision-self was noticeably younger, adorned in his scarlet and golden Quidditch robes, with leather pads fastened to his shins and forearms. His broomstick was hovering above the Quidditch pitch, as loud thunderous cheers emanated from the stands below. He was too high up to see exactly who was down there, but he knew his friends were there somewhere, cheering him on.

There was a match in progress as flurries of red and green filled the pitch – This was clearly a Gryffindor vs Slytherin match. Harry's vision-self hovered in the air, waiting patiently for the elusive tiny golden Snitch, to claim victory on this match. The clear-skied conditions, and the familiarity of the match itself, along with his Firebolt, indicated to him that this was the final match of the Quidditch season in his third year. This was also Oliver Wood's final year as the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, and final year at Hogwarts, as he could see him defending the goalposts as Keeper. He watched below as the match continued just as he remembered, as his vision-self began to glide slowly through the air in search of the Snitch.

It was like witnessing the match all over again, and one of the few games which didn't involve some kind of disaster. It was as normal as he remembered, and it made him smile. He watched as his vision-self raced Draco Malfoy, the then-Slytherin Seeker, towards the Snitch. It was a close call, but within seconds, Harry clasped the Snitch within his hand, earning his team one hundred and fifty points, and a Quidditch Cup season victory. He watched his thirteen-year-old self fly over the stands, listening to the cheers from the crowd below, as he flew down to celebrate with the rest of his team.

As much as Harry wished for that to continue, the vision began to distort and gradually begin to fade away.


Harry gently opened his eyes, immediately feeling a sense of calm and recollection within his mind, as he still held his gaze between the Professor still kneeling before him. He watched as the man furrowed his brow in anticipation, picked himself up off the floor, and pocketed his wand once more. Harry was doing his best to piece together what just happened. It wasn't the Legilimency he was used to. It was not a fake memory because he was there. Harry remembered that match, albeit not vividly, but it was there. It was his own.

Snape clasped his hands behind his back, watching the teenager carefully as they both remained in silence for a few moments. Harry's panic had since calmed, and his breathing had now – finally – resumed regularity.

The Potions Master reassured the Gryffindor, with a furrowed brow, "Should you wish to join me, I'll be in the sitting room. Sleep eludes us both again, it seems," With a turn of his heel, Snape exited the room, leaving Harry sitting in silence trying to recollect what he had just experienced.

Still in an odd mind space, Harry sat up from the bed, placed his glasses on his face, and made a dash to the washroom to apply cool water to his flustered skin. His shirt was mildly damp from sweat, which made him feel rather disgusting. Instead, he decided to jump into the shower, until he felt refreshed enough to leave. Applying clean clothes, he stumbled back to his room to retrieve his wand, taking notice of the clockface reading close to four in the morning. Grumbling to himself, he figured there was no point in attempting to sleep again that night, so he shuffled downstairs to face the Potions Master once again. His mind was plagued with questions.

He walked into the sitting room on the first floor and found Severus Snape by the crackling fireplace, with a large mug of what seemed like tea in his hands staring aimlessly into the flames. He must have heard the Gryffindor's feet enter from the stairs because Snape looked up upon his arrival and watched him enter the room. The man looked surprised that he even considered his invitation, least of all, adhere to it. Setting his own mug down, he proceeded to pour Harry a mug of tea from the steaming ornate teapot in the center of the table and handed it to the teenager as he sat down.

"Peppermint, with a hint of ginger," Snape retrieved his own mug and sat back against the single sofa chair he was occupying, "Works as an effective stress reliever, along with anti-nausea properties, strengthening mental clarity and focus. Without a doubt, you need it."

"…Where's Ron and Hermione?"

"They departed late last night."

Harry nodded as he curled up on the opposite chair, drawing his own nightgown closely around himself, "…Thank you. For…what you did."

"Desperate times, called for desperate measures, Potter."

"What exactly was that? If you don't mind me asking. It didn't...feel the same," Harry inhaled the crisp scent of peppermint from his tea, feeling the warmth of the mug in his hands.

"It was still Legilimency. I merely found a memory of your own and brought it forth within that disastrous clouded mind of yours, that I gather you'd still find some contentment in re-visiting," Snape took a small sip of his tea, "It was rather difficult to procure a Quidditch match that didn't end in a catastrophe."

"Actually, I'm surprised you gave me a match where I won against Slytherin."

Snape looked bitterly at Harry, "As much as I personally detest that, I couldn't show you a losing match, now could I?"

"No, I suppose not," Harry tenderly touched his lip, where he bit it earlier, feeling the surface of his lip swell up slightly, "But sir, thank you…for asking."

Snape pursed his lips, "Well it would be wise to avoid a repeat of those sessions. And before you ask, you are in no state to resume said lessons. It will not do you any good at this point in time. That time of dire need has since diminished."

Harry drew in a deep breath, "Oh, I know. I wasn't even going to ask. I wasn't exactly an…easy student for you."

Snape snorted lightly, "In most instances. Though as of recently…You haven't been too terrible."

"Well, that's a relief. But also because we are both no longer at Hogwarts. Different environment, with, well…different circumstances. Kind of strange, isn't it?"

"Strange...indeed," The Professor looked grimly at Harry, after a short pause, "When I peered into your mind, Potter, I saw that nightmare of yours. I did my best to repel it to the back of your mind, but I cannot erase it. Nevertheless, and I know this is difficult, but it is far from the truth. You mustn't blame yourself. War can skew one's mind as easily as ripples in a lake."

Harry took a sip of the burning tea, feeling a slight sting from his lip, "I know, but it's hard not to. Your brain tells you one thing, but your heart, another."

Snape nodded slowly in agreement, "Quite right. There is a time for the head and a time for the heart. Both will lead you on very different paths."

"I still don't know how you did it."

Snape frowned, "Do what?"

"…Fool everyone, sir. After all that time."

"Sometimes I wonder how I did it, too," Snape took a careful sip of his tea and drew in a deep breath, "I suppose you can allow that as an example of the head winning over the heart. If I succumbed too much to the latter, I wouldn't have any measure of success with facing…him." Snape spat that last word with extreme distaste.

"Maybe. But you still used both."

Snape raised his eyebrows, "Still doesn't make me a good person, Potter. I had to go against the moral grain, even personally. I jeopardised my trust with my true allies in order to sneak into the higher ranks of the Dark Lord. I did things that I'm not particularly…proud of."

"If you never signed up to be a Death Eater, what would you have done instead?"

Clearly startled by the question, Snape frowned, "You ask far too many questions, Potter," Eventually, he relaxed his expression and drew in a shuddered breath as his gaze averted, pondering the thought, "…No one has ever asked me what…I want. Seems like a rather foreign concept to me. Even now."

Harry's heart sank a little in his chest. From the memories he recalled from the man, he knew he grew up in a terrible household. Abused by his Muggle father, leaving his witch mother too traumatised to protect him. The small snippet of the man's memory of his younger self cowering in the corner was enough for Harry to understand. His own time with the Dursleys was another painful reminder of that. It was easy for adults to crush the dreams of children, without a doubt. But not only that, the man spent most of his life serving others. He never had a sliver of a chance to pursue his own wishes.

"There had to be something."

Snape pondered, "Perhaps something meaningful, I'm sure. I most certainly never wanted to teach." He allowed his gaze to wander who Harry, who seemed rather extra attentive to the conversation, "It was never an aspiration, but writing has always been a creative outlet of mine. The possibility of publishing a few books of my creations always seemed to capture my interest. However, I try not to dwell on what could have been."

"You still can, sir," Harry shrugged.

Snape snorted lightly, "We'll see. If luck is on my side – perhaps - once this curse is…vanquished from me," There was a slight pause between the both of them as Harry took a sip from his mug of tea. Snape was conflicted with several things running through his mind, and neither of them was at the other's throats at that point in time because, at that moment, both appeared to be somewhat relaxed within each other's company. Snape's expression suddenly turned more serious, "Potter. Does…my being here, bother you?"

Harry frowned, as confusion seeped through his face, "Uh, I…I don't quite understand what you mean, sir."

"Allow me to rephrase – Are you…uncomfortable with me, here? After…everything."

Harry shook his head immediately, startled by the question, "No. No, I'm not. I mean, I guess I'm still wrapping my head around it. It still falls under strange territory, for both of us, I think. Actually, I could ask you the same thing, being stuck with me under the same roof. I kind of never expected you to, well, want to stick around."

"I supposed I never intended to, initially. However, things…change. Inevitably."

"Forgive my choice of words, but…I didn't think you actually, well…cared about it."

Snape shot Harry a stern look of warning, "I am not as heartless as one may presume."

Harry shook his head, "No, that's…not what I meant. I just thought…Just…Never mind." Words seem to elude the Gryffindor and thus decided not to pursue that train of thought for fear of letting slip the wrong thing from his mind. He was never great at expressing himself openly. Actually, he rather hated it. It made him feel too vulnerable for comfort. Upon Harry's broken sentence, Snape looked at the Gryffindor in his bid to read his face. Being under scrutiny from the Legilimens mastermind did make Harry feel uncomfortable at times. Especially most often than not, the man sitting before him could read the teenager as easily as he came to terms with, himself. With or without the skill.

"For now – We must adapt to these…changes. When you remove the darkest threat of our lives from the equation, you end up with something…remarkably unforeseen," Snape subtly tilted his head, oddly satisfied with the conversation.

Finally, Snape downed the rest of his tea and rose up from his seat, steadying himself against the armrest as he swayed slightly on the spot. Harry watched as he shut his eyes, trying to compose himself, and heard the man curse under his breath.

"Do you need assistance?"

"No. Finish your tea, and get to bed, Potter," As Snape's apparent dizzy spell subsided once more, Harry watched as the man carefully made his way out of the room, most likely to attempt some rest himself.

Harry waited until he heard the door upstairs slam shut, and no further alarming sounds, until he finished his own tea and made his way back to his own bedroom. The tea itself was just what he needed, and it definitely did its job of easing some of his anxiety resulting from his previous nightmare. He stumbled back up the several flights of stairs and entered his room once again. Falling onto the bed, he slid under his tangled covers, until eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

The Gryffindor awoke to multiple voices downstairs, oddly loud and disruptive.

Although Grimmauld Place had a multitude of floors, it still felt rather small, and it was easy to hear what the rest of the house was up to. If it wasn't Kreacher creaking all over the floorboards in his cleaning resume or making too much noise in the kitchen, it was discovered that Snape actually did snore rather loudly, when he finally did sleep. Or the occasional coughing fits from the man every few hours. Or when the others were present, Ron was usually cursing under his breath as he stumbled to the bathroom in the middle of the night to relieve himself. Hermione seemed to be the only silent housemate thus far.

But the house itself was met with other voices. Harry sat up in his bed, as his head felt strangely heavy from his rather eventful night, although he was surprised that he managed to get more sleep. Placing his glasses back on his face, he noticed the clock had just ticked past eleven in the morning. He sat up and hastily threw on whatever appropriate and moderately clean clothes he could find, frowning at the smashed potion against the wall that he shamefully caused overnight, and made his way downstairs to see what going on. As he descended each flight of stairs, the voices grew louder.

"I don't want you ANYWHERE near my daughter again, do you hear me?!"

"Who did you expect to rise to the occasion? Yourself? Yes, you most certainly have your hands full. What's on the Ministry's agenda today, attack of the possessed garden hose?"

"I BEG – "

"Arthur...Severus! That's enough!"

"Stop defending him, Molly! Have you forgotten what he's done?!"

"Why yes, do enlighten me, Arthur Weasley."

"You have no right!"

"Dad, cut it out!"

Arthur and Snape were having a heated conversation, with Molly's shrieking voice chiming in on occasion. Not exactly what Harry wanted to be dealing with at this point. Before Harry reached the ground floor, he saw Ginny exit the kitchen and ushered him back away into the corridor.

Harry dropped his voice to a whisper, "What the hell is going on?"

"We got here a short while ago, but they've been going at it for the last ten minutes," Ginny responded, also trying her best to lower her voice.

"…What's the reason now?"

"Dad seems to think it was Snape's fault that I was taken in the first place, but he seemed to have forgotten that I wouldn't be here without his help. "

Harry threw up his hands in defeat, "I'm so sick of this! "

"I know, Dad is being ridiculous. Mum's been trying to get him to leave, but he's being unreasonable -"

Suddenly, the pair heard several shattering of glass and a loud THUMP. Harry and Ginny alarmingly looked at each other, until they both ran into the kitchen with Molly yelling loudly at Arthur. Once they walked in, they saw Snape and Arthur locked in a brawl. Snape had a small gash just under his eye and evidently bruised, and Harry presumed that Arthur threw in the first punch. There were glass shards all over the floor and covering the kitchen table. A broken chair sat in pieces on the floor.

"WHAT – " Harry immediately threw himself between the unruly pair without thinking, trying his best to pry them apart. Molly tried to pull Arthur back as Harry wedged himself between. But in those split seconds, Snape's arm accidentally swung forward, hitting Harry across the face, causing the Gryffindor to rebound and painfully hit the edge of the table. Harry's vision became blurry for a few seconds, as he realised half of his glasses broke on impact. A sharp pain radiated from his jaw, and he could taste blood in his mouth.

Snape's eyes widened, "- Potter!"

Withdrawing his wand in frustration, Harry cast a non-verbal charm to physically separate the pair, sending Arthur and Snape to the nearest seats. "That's-That's enough! Just, stop it! Both of you!"

The room fell silent for a few moments, as each individual tried to process what had just happened. Molly slowly sunk slowly into the nearest chair, burying her head in her hands, as Ginny cautiously sat beside her. Arthur and Snape were still seething at each other, both trying to catch their breath. Blood trickled thinly down the side of Snape's face, as Arthur clutched an injured hand.

Harry clenched his fist, "If you two are done, I don't want to see you in the same room together again. Am I clear? If you can't sort it out -"

Arthur pointed threateningly at Snape, "- He is NOT welcome at the memorial, tomorrow. Harry, I've known this man for years!"

"Well, clearly you don't," Harry snapped.

Snape bared his teeth in anger, "Yes, well I didn't think fists of fury was a Weasley trait, right Arthur?"

"STOP! Both of you! That's enough!" Harry's voice was loud and clear, earning a scowl from Snape and Arthur respectively.

"You both should be ashamed of yourselves. We have enough problems as it is!" Molly interrupted, as she turned to Arthur, "We've had this conversation before, Arthur. He risked his life for our daughter. He didn't take her, they did."

"I don't trust him, and I never will!" Arthur clenched his fist, "The memorial is the last place he should show his face. I don't care what the Minister thinks, this man deserves to be thrown into Azkaban with the other disgraces of society – "

"Dad, stop!" Ginny yelled out, "Honestly! You're being ridiculous!"

Arthur turned to face his daughter, "So you're taking his word over mine?!"

"I'm not taking anyone's word over another. Professor Snape saved my life. Stop placing the blame where it shouldn't be, Dad."

"Listen to your daughter, Arthur," Molly drew in a deep breath, "Fighting about this will not get you anywhere," She glanced at Snape, "And this also applies to you, Severus. I don't want to see any more petty fighting. We all have enough on our minds, don't we?"

Harry nodded, as he gingerly touched his sensitive jaw, "Just everyone…Calm down, or…leave."

"Harry! Do you not understand what this man – " Arthur started again, earning another scolding from Molly.

"- Yes, Arthur, I fully understand what this man did for the Order. For all of us," Harry responded.

"Even if he murdered Albus in cold blood?"

"It wasn't cold blood, Arthur. He was already dying – "

"- I don't believe that one bit. I'm sorry Harry, but I don't. I – " Arthur stopped himself, face red with rage.

"…And?"

"Yes, do go on. I find your tale absolutely enthralling," Snape spoke icily, looking sourly at the Weasley patriarch.

Arthur drew in a sharp breath with his nose, reminding Harry like a bull at the gate, "Harry – He was, and still is, a Death Eater. That is evident by the Mark still branded on his skin. It remains a permanent fixture of the path he chose to take. He did terrible things and Albus expected us to sweep that under the rug?!"

Harry shook his head, "You have that all wrong, Arthur. He chose to work against Voldemort and the only one who truly knew that was Dumbledore..." He took a quick glance at Snape and noticed his left hand – where the Mark was emblazoned – clench into a fist. Snape himself, was obviously trying to remain composed, but his dark eyes flashed with obvious hurt. Harry glanced back at Arthur, "Look, you know why. And I don't want to discuss that any further. Any other problems, confront Dumbledore's portrait." At that moment, Harry felt guilty for telling everyone in the Great Hall about Snape's motives that day he defeated Voldemort, and he knew Snape had wished above all else, that it was still his shameful secret. But neither of them expected Snape to survive that, and yet, it was a revelation that he himself had to face now that everyone knew the truth. But for some like Arthur, even the truth was not enough to convince them.

"Arthur, dear. Severus has every right to be at the Memorial tomorrow. Don't make this difficult. He saved our daughter. Please, leave it at that, " Molly interrupted with a composed voice, towards her husband.

A short pause later, Arthur Weasley rose from his chair, still cradling his injured hand. He looked at Snape in deep distaste. Turning repulsively from the Professor, he faced his wife, "Molly, are you coming?"

"I'll meet you at home soon, alright, sweetheart?" Molly responded, softly. "...I can't leave this place in a mess."

Without another word, Arthur strode out of the kitchen and left Grimmauld Place. The front door slammed heavily behind him, earning startled shrieks from Mrs. Black's portrait. The remaining residents sat in silence for a few moments, until Snape turned to Harry, observing the fresh bruising forming around his jaw, where a tiny cut was now evident. He fished within his robes and pulled out a small jar and handed it to Harry cautiously.

Snape's face fell, "Bruise salve – "

"– It's fine, sir. You didn't mean it," Harry retrieved the jar, grimly.

"It's not fine, Potter. None of this is fine!"

"Severus, please," Molly looked at Snape, clearly saddened, "I'm sorry for my husband's outbursts."

"I care not, for what he thinks. He refuses to see the truth and I cannot reason with someone so close-minded!" Snape responded, frustratingly. He slowly rose up, still feeling guilty for his accidental strike upon the Gryffindor. Actually, if Harry noticed correctly, the man looked repulsed with himself. He watched as he clutched over the Mark instinctively on his left arm, took one last visual sweep of the room, and turned on his heel as he left. The creaking of the staircase indicated that he departed back upstairs.

Molly reached out to grab Harry's arm, tenderly, "I'm so sorry, my dear. I've tried talking to Arthur, and well…The war has turned him rather…cynical."

"Dad will come around eventually. Even if that takes a while," Ginny lowered her head.

"Ginny, sweetheart. You are welcome to stay here tonight, and I'll see you at the Memorial tomorrow, alright?"

Ginny nodded, "Okay, mum." Her mother leaned over to give her a hug and rose up from her chair to proceed with the clean-up.

The kitchen was in a bit of a mess, but with combined efforts from Molly, Ginny, and Harry, the room was back to its normal state. Glass shards were removed, and the chairs were repaired once again. Once that was done, Molly left to return to the Burrow, while Ginny happily stayed behind with Harry. They sat for a short while together while she gently applied the bruise salve to Harry's jaw, which was already turning into a faint shade of purple.

"Tomorrow is going to be a difficult day. But Harry, you won't be alone – " As Ginny placed the bruise salve back onto the table, she leaned forward to embrace Harry in comfort.

They sat there together for a while, holding each other, and all they could hear was the sounds of their beating hearts against each other's chests.

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