The Elixir of Amaranth by Ttime42

Harry was soon on the comfortable sofa with a light knit blanket draped over his body courtesy of Teeley. He had a cup of hot cocoa, also from Teeley, and was watching a muggle game show about guessing prices of groceries. He was half-watching the telly and half-thinking about his and Snape’s conversation. That panic attack had been beyond embarrassing. Of course Snape had seen him many times at his lowest: when he was crying and snotty and blubbering about how he liked being called ‘Harry,’ when he was enduring the horrible smacks last year, and most recently, when he was coughing and ill and pathetic. A panic attack was pretty low on the embarrassment meter compared to all that.

If Snape was going to send him packing he wished the man would just rip the plaster off and do it already. Surely he wouldn’t want such a nervous, jittery weirdo in his house for too long. Snape had said that he didn’t want Harry back with his aunt but that certainly didn’t mean he wanted Harry here all summer. The wild little thought, you’re in Snape’s house! kept repeating in a loop. He was in the home of the meanest, strictest teacher at school…and he was curled on his comfy sofa with a big mug of the best hot cocoa he’d ever had. No one at school would believe it. He could barely believe it. It had been alright here so far. If he was being honest, Harry already preferred Snape’s house over his aunt’s. It hadn’t even been a week and Snape had proven himself to be loads better than his relatives. Harry could fly his amazing broom, he had a large bedroom and his own bathroom, he didn’t have to worry about Vernon or Dudley killing Hedwig. He was back in the magical world where things just made sense.

He hadn’t been in very many magical homes. The Burrow was the only place he’d spent a significant amount of time. He wondered what sorts of magical things Snape had in his house. He had the dog. Hugo was part magical beast. Snape also had a whole bunch of forbidden places on his property that sounded really mysterious and wicked cool. What was out there on that island that was so dangerous? Was it the same kind of thing that was behind that riveted door? What was so terrible Harry wasn’t allowed to go through there? Some weird old vampire thing? Probably some really dark death eater stuff…some really disgusting things….

He woke up and blinked a few times. He glanced at the window. The midday news was on the telly. He sat up and, after a brief coughing fit, rubbed his face and used the loo off the sitting room. He stood in the hallway after, listening. “Sna—er, Professor?” He called. Silence. He popped into the parlor and stuck his head into the huge formal dining room. Nothing. Harry went into the little kitchen where they’d eaten. Empty. Maybe he was out?

Harry’s stomach grumbled. He was hungry but he was always hungry all summer. He could deal with it. Unless…Snape had a house elf, right? She would have to have a space somewhere in the house to prepare meals. Where would that be? At Hogwarts the kitchens were near the Hufflepuff common room, a few floors down and directly under the tables in the Great Hall. Maybe the kitchen here was the same? If Snape took meals in this room, maybe the prep room wasn’t too far. Hadn’t he mentioned a scullery?

He opened a door he found to his right. It was a utility closet of sorts. To his delight, his Moonshot was leaned on the wall inside. He touched the cool, smooth handle, hoping Snape would soon deem him well enough to fly. He opened another door around the corner that revealed a set of narrow, uneven stairs leading down. Excellent. He crept down the steps. Surely Snape would have loads of rules in his house and he could absolutely deny Harry food too. He wanted to stock up on snacks while he had the chance in case he had to go hungry later. Snape had told him he wanted Harry to eat and not ask permission and all…but Harry would feel better knowing he had some food tucked away. Snape had a temper and Harry envisioned the man losing patience and locking him in his room for ages on end. Maybe not, but, it was best to be prepared.

Harry landed at the bottom of the narrow staircase and found exactly what he was looking for. This was the food preparation area, with cabinets, a glowing fire, utensils and the like. There was an exact replica of the table in the kitchen. The room was impeccably clean. Snape probably settled for nothing less. Harry silently slipped over to a cabinet. Plates, cups. He closed it and opened another. Things in cans, boxes of dried pasta and rice. Harry moved on. A few bottles of wine. Did the man not have snacks? Bars, sweets, or bags of crisps? He did find a single box of what looked to be some kind of foreign-made, healthy protein bar. He took two and stuffed them deep in the pocket of his sweatpants. He saw a fruit bowl on a work surface and he pounced on it. He ripped off a banana and ate it and then he slipped a small apple into his other pocket and grabbed another banana and an orange. That should last for the next day or so. He couldn’t take too much without Teeley or Snape noticing. He went up to his room undetected and threw the fruit and wrapped bars in his trunk. He hid them under one of Dudley’s old shirts. There. Good. If Snape denied him meals or got upset with him and locked him up he’d be alright with this stash of snacks. He hid food in his room at the Dursleys all the time. He’d learned to do that when he was about eight. Snacks were better than nothing. He was used to going without full meals all summer long.

Harry heard noises in the corridor and then Snape appeared outside his open door. That familiar potion-scent spice was radiating off his clothes. Harry could smell it even from his place by the trunk.

“Hungry?” Snape asked.

“Er, yea—well, not too much, I-I can wait—”

“C’mon,” Snape cut off his blathering and tilted his head to the side in a ‘let’s go’ motion. “Let’s have lunch.”

They resumed their seats from breakfast and Snape tapped the table. Two huge salads appeared, along with bowls of a creamy yellow-orange soup. A small plate of crusty bread appeared between them. At the Dursleys, his aunt would force salad on the family now and then when it was decided that Dudley needed one of his diets. This would last as long as Vernon’s patience and then the family would go back to their normal fare. Harry had never had a salad like this on Privet Drive. It was big, first of all, and Harry could see cheese crumbles and chopped egg, bits of tomato and…was that purple lettuce? It glistened, tossed in a light dressing. It smelled vinegar-y and looked really good. Nothing like the wilted anemic lettuce leaves in a tiny dish at Privet Drive, of which Harry was only allowed leftovers. The soup had some kind of seeds sprinkled on top and Harry remembered that Hogwarts provided seeds for students to drop on their pumpkin soups, the few times it was served in autumn.

“Problem?” Snape said softly, picking up his fork. He put his napkin in his lap and Harry did the same.

“No,” Harry said. He picked up his fork and waited.

So did Snape.

“Is the food to your liking?” Snape asked.

“I think so, sir.”

“What did I say at breakfast?”

“Um…you wanted me to take the vitamin potion every day?”

“You don’t need permission to eat,” Snape reminded him.

“Oh, right.”

Harry speared a forkful of leaves and slowly brought it to his mouth. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Snape to shout? Once, his aunt put food in front of him after depriving him for a day and when he started inhaling the food, she snapped at him that he was being rude to eat like such a pig and had taken it away. The memory of his aunt taking the food, leaving him with a burning belly was strong and painful. He glanced at Snape and chewed before grabbing another forkful. Satisfied, Snape did the same. Harry relaxed and they both tucked in.

“I don’t want you hungry in this house,” Snape said after a few moments. He paused, trying to figure out how to be delicate. “I know your relatives didn’t care if you ate regular meals, but I do, and so should you.” Snape glanced at the collarbones he could see peeking under the collar of Harry’s huge shirt. He was way too thin for a boy his age. Teenage boys had voracious appetites and Snape hoped Harry would take advantage of being in a house filled with food.

“Yes, sir.”

Over the next few days Harry slept more than he ever had. He slipped into a schedule of sleeping twelve or so hours a night, taking an afternoon nap, and then pulling another full night’s sleep. Snape assured him the long hours were because his core was regenerating. Snape made sure that Harry joined him for three meals a day and always had his fill. The man was diligent about making the fresh pod tea every morning and Harry, though he appreciated it, wondered why he was bothering. Maybe he felt guilty for last year and all the times he had to hit him because of the potion. Maybe Dumbledore or McGonagall put him up to it. Whatever it was, Harry wasn’t going to complain. The tea helped his cough and he felt loads better since drinking a fresh cup everyday after breakfast. When Harry wasn’t sleeping or eating his time was his own and at one point Snape brought him to the library at the top of the stairs.

“I need to do some work today in my lab. It will take a couple hours.” Snape gestured to the open door and Harry entered the library. It wasn’t large, simply a converted bedroom, but there were a few packed book cases, a sturdy table and chairs, and a window with a bench seat built in. “You may read any of these books. Get a start on your summer work, perhaps. If you are hungry, call for Teeley and she’ll bring you a snack.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Stay out of trouble.” Snape gave him a look and swept down the corridor.

Harry expected the shelves to be filled with dusty old potions tomes, but to his delight there was plenty of fiction—even some muggle fiction. Harry ran his fingertip over the spines of Swiss Family Robinson and Fahrenheit 451. He found a book about a wizard who was contracted out by the Ministry to the muggle government to be an undercover spy. It sounded like it’d be funny and he took it to the parlor and stretched out on the sofa. Hugo trotted into the room and, after giving Harry a thorough sniff, curled at the end of the sofa at Harry’s feet.

The wizard spy was hilariously inept at snooping on muggles and Harry spent the next few hours happily reading about Alistair Dots and his ridiculous spying foibles. He so rarely read for fun that he had forgotten he enjoyed it. When Harry was at school he spent so much time reading textbooks that he didn’t want to read more in his free time. The Dursleys had a set of encyclopedias and a dictionary in their sitting room, as those were ‘normal’ books to have on display for company. Harry on occasion saw his aunt with a paperback but they would never keep funny books like this. If his aunt did decide to get more books they would probably all be about how to keep a house clean.

Harry was continually surprised by how comfortable he was in Snape’s house. Last year, before he’d gotten to know Snape, he would have guessed the man lived in a dungeon like at Hogwarts and had a cauldron in every room. Thumbscrews, chains, bats in the rafters, the whole lot. In reality though, Snape’s house was actually cozy. He had comfortable sofas and armchairs, soft blankets, throw pillows. There was even a telly. Harry’s bedroom was perfect. The bed was bigger than his dorm bed and just as soft. It wasn’t a massive manor like the Malfoys had but it was certainly spacious. There was plenty of natural light inside and loads of space outside. It felt right in a way the Dursleys never had.

Harry was developing a whole new view of Snape, too. He wasn’t the snappish dungeon bat in this place. He was more relaxed, slightly softer somehow around the edges. He didn’t stride around the house with billowing black robes and a tight frown on his face. He wore muggle clothes and soft house slippers and hadn’t shouted at or insulted Harry once. He’d been attentive and present while at the same time giving Harry plenty of space. As far as Harry was concerned it was basically perfect here and as long as things stayed like this he could see himself spending as much time here as Snape was willing to allow.

The fireplace glowed green and then roared to life. Harry froze. Who was coming? Who knew he was here? He had a wild thought that the Dursleys were coming back to collect him before logic intervened.

Albus Dumbledore, clad in a loud blue and silver spangled robe, stepped out of the fireplace. He saw Harry on the sofa and regarded him for a moment, serious, calculating, a touch perturbed, before a warm smile spread over his face. “Harry,” he said, “how are you feeling, my boy?”
“Better, sir.” Harry set the book pages-down on the end table and stood to properly greet the Headmaster. Hugo hopped off the couch and went to sniff Albus, who offered a hand to the big dog.

“How are you faring under Severus’ tender ministrations?” His eyes held their usual twinkle. “I daresay you’ve not been in Crowcaster House before.”

“No, sir. I’m faring well. He’s been…he’s been great, actually.”

“Excellent, excellent.” Dumbledore patted him absently and looked past Harry, his blue eyes flicking around as he searched for Snape.

“Am I going to have to go back to my aunt?” Harry asked.

“That’s what I’m here to discuss with Severus! Where is our favorite Potions Master?”

“Here, Albus,” Snape strode into the room, “apologies for my delay.”

“Not at all! Harry was generous company.”

Snape hummed. “My study, I think.”

They started for the stairs.

“Can I come?” Harry asked.

“No,” Snape said. Albus went up the steps ahead of him and Snape pointed at Harry from over the banister. “Stay here and behave.”

They thumped up the stairs and Harry frowned. What were they gonna talk about? Him? School? No matter what they did talk about, it was bound to be interesting….bound to be worth listening in on…Harry crept to the bottom of the steps. Silence. He hurried up on quiet feet and poked his head around the corner of the hall. Snape’s study door was closed. Damn. Harry frowned, then brightened. He had an idea…

***

“Have a seat, Albus.”

Snape waved his hand and a full tea tray appeared. Teeley had added a bowl of lemon drops and Snape silently praised her ability to remember his guest’s favorite rubbish. He certainly wasn’t going to bother to learn who preferred what sweets and snacks. The teapot immediately hovered and busied itself with pouring tea into the two porcelain cups—another thing Snape was glad Teeley had thought to include. The hardy ceramic mugs he favored were fine for the day to day but Snape wasn’t sure how pissed off Dumbledore was going to be. Snape had basically ripped Harry away from whatever shield charm Albus had put on Petunia’s home. Surely Albus wouldn’t be too pleased about Snape’s impulsive actions and he appreciated Teeley pulling out all the stops for his powerful guest.

“Not at all, Severus.” Dumbledore said, transfiguring the hard wooden chair Snape put out into a squashy wingback armchair. “It seems you’ve had quite the summer holiday.” His voice held an uncharacteristic hint of irritation. He caught the teacup and saucer that floated over to him.

“Potter,” Snape said, taking that tone as his cue and cutting right to it as his own cup settled at his elbow. “How much of a problem is his being in my home?”

Albus gave Snape a long look. “The blood enchantments on Privet Drive protect Harry, Severus.”

“From what, precisely?” He said, trying to stay if not polite, then civil. “His relatives abuse him.”

Dumbledore sipped, thoughtful, and said, “the blood enchantment is the charm Lily’s death created to protect Harry from a direct attack from Tom Riddle. I cast this powerful charm onto Petunia’s home, binding it to Petunia and that dwelling. As long as Harry can call home where his mother’s blood dwells, he will be protected. The charm also protects him from magical creatures who may wish him harm.”

Snape raised a brow. “Him and his cousin were attacked by dementors.”
Albus’ beard twitched as he smiled. “I never claimed it was a perfect charm, dear boy. For the most part he has been protected.”

“From the Dark Lord.”

“Yes.”

“So the abuse that he has endured at the hands of his relatives means nothing?”

“What Riddle would do to him is far worse than anything Petunia Evans could possibly do.”

Not necessarily, Snape thought. He picked up his teacup, his fingertips pressing into the thin porcelain. The heat seeped through, burning his skin. He allowed the sensation for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “Harry suffers there. Every year of his life that he has spent in that house, he has suffered.” Harry had told him as much last year and the state of his prison-cell room proved it.

“You’ve grown to care for him,” Dumbledore stated it as fact.

“Yes,” Snape said after a moment. No point in denying it.

“Interesting.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “You’re a better man than I am, Albus, and I find Potter’s situation frustrating. How can you leave him there knowing that he’s suffering?” Snape sipped his tea.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that, Severus. You keep the best of you hidden away. Perhaps Harry will get to see some of that?”

Snape stared at him, refusing to be put off by this cheap attempt at sentimentality until his question was answered.

Dumbledore picked up on this and gave him a level stare. “It’s for the greater good.”

“Oh please!” Snape snorted, putting the cup down with a loud rattle in the saucer. “That is your explanation? That’s the reason you’ve allowed him to be abused for fifteen years? ‘The greater good?’ Transfer the blood enchantment here, I’ll take him in.”

“I cannot.” Dumbledore raised his cup to his lips.

“Because…?”

“The charm cannot be picked up and moved,” Dumbledore said, aborting the sip. “It is not a suitcase. Even if it could be moved, it has to stay at the place Harry calls home. Does Harry call Crowcaster House home?” Albus gave him a condescending little smile and Snape clenched his jaw.

“No,” Snape admitted. Harry’s agreeing to temporary residency in this ancient house with his mean, stuffy old potions professor certainly didn’t qualify anything as a home. “Harry has never referred to Privet Drive as ‘home.’” Snape said, remembering his various conversations with the boy over the last year. Harry had called that house “my aunt’s” and “the Dursleys” and even referred to his relatives as “the muggles.” He rarely if ever said their first names, instead saying my aunt, my uncle, my cousin. He kept them at a distance even in conversation. After seeing the locks on the doors when Snape rescued Harry he didn’t doubt for a second that Harry didn’t call that place home. Who would call that prison home?

“Regardless of what he calls it, it is his home. That’s where his family is.”

“Rubbish,” Snape said, picking up his cup again. “Family doesn’t mean home.” He thought of the house he grew up in. Never once had that Cokeworth hovel occupied by his father been his home. “Privet Drive is not home for him.”

“Would Harry say that?”

Snape truly had no idea. He hoped not.

“Regardless of what Harry says, the shield disagrees,” Albus grinned, proud of himself, and tapped his fingertips together. “It was a difficult piece of magic to get in place, I grant you, but I am pleased with the way it turned out.”

Again Snape grit his teeth. This charm that had changed Harry’s entire life, damning him to those foul muggles, was nothing more for Albus than a notch on his metaphorical magic wand.

“The charm,” Snape said, reining in his temper. His hand tightened around the dainty cup. It all kept coming back to the bloody charm. “So you placed this charm and that was that? Does Petunia even know about it?”

“Yes. I explained it all in the letter I left with Harry.”

“The letter?” Snape repeated. “Do you mean the letter you left pinned to an infant on a stranger’s doorstep?” His voice dripped in sarcasm.

“Severus.”

“You put something that important in the ruddy letter? That was low, Albus. Lily’s child deserved better than to be left outside with a letter.”

“He wasn’t left outside. Gracious, you make it sound like he was abandoned! We made sure he was taken inside the house.”

“Where you then proceeded to explain a complicated and incredibly specific life-changing charm—the details of which even educated magical people would struggle to understand—in a letter. To a muggle.”

“Petunia understands magic,” Dumbledore said in a dismissive tone. He waved Snape’s concerns away. “She saw it in her sister.”

“Petunia doesn’t understand magic. Petunia hates magic,” Snape countered, leaning forward a bit over his desk. “Petunia was always snobby and small-minded but she became spiteful and mean the day Lily received her Hogwarts letter. Whether out of jealousy or disgust, both, I don’t know but I guarantee she threw your letter into the fire that very night and started to complain about how much Harry’s care would cost.”

“They received a monthly stipend.”

“Oh?” Snape leaned back and tilted his head to the side. He hadn’t known that.

“Exchanged into muggle currency of course.”

Snape paused. “How much?”

Dumbledore told him and Snape snorted and shook his head in disbelief, his fury at this whole situation growing. The sum was generous, more than enough to keep the boy fed and in clothes. They’d received a tidy sum from the Ministry, no strings attached, yet those bastards still had the gall to treat the child like dirt. It seemed they hated all things magical except the money.

“If Harry were to live elsewhere,” Snape said, swirling the dregs of his around the bottom of the teacup, “call somewhere—or anywhere at all—home…”

“Here, you mean?” Albus raised his brows.

“Not necessarily,” Snape said honestly. It wasn’t so much a matter of whether or not he wanted to keep the boy in his home, it was mostly a question of whether or not Potter wanted to stay here and also whether Snape had the time to watch a teenager in his home. The truth was, he was busy both over the summer and during the school year. His reputation as a Potions Master stretched far and wide beyond the British Isles. He spent the scant summer months brewing for private clients willing to pay top coin for dark, rare, and complicated potions not sold in shops and he often got a little extra cash for not asking too many questions. Last year he’d made several new foreign contacts through his Draught of Asphodel research. This had garnered him a fresh crop of interested clients so his summer docket was rather full up. Yes, he would be busy this summer, like every summer. Would he be too busy to brew his potions and keep a weather eye on Potter? Not if he handled everything carefully, he supposed. Being self-employed over the summer gave him the freedom to pick and choose clients at his leisure. He could limit himself to the ones willing to pay the most or the people who requested the more interesting brews. He had no qualms about the school year—he could easily look out for the boy in the castle. He already had all of last year. He made a comfortable salary as a professor but if the stars aligned he could earn two thirds of his annual Hogwarts wage in one summer. His conscience was hardly clean but he’d not sleep well knowing Harry was back with those awful people, not after what he and Harry went through last year, not since his eyes had been peeled open to the reality of Harry’s abuses, and not if he could do something to fix the problem.

Snape decided to be candid. “I wouldn’t mind having Harry for the summer. I would keep him safe and out of trouble.”

“Ah, I wonder how ‘safe’ he’d truly be.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “What are you implying, Albus?”

“Nothing, my boy, simply that without the blood enchantment protecting him and with him living in the magical world, Tom can, I’m afraid, access him.” Dumbledore gave a useless little shrug that rubbed Snape entirely the wrong way. He shifted irritably in his chair. “If Harry were to live in a new place and come to call that place ‘home,’ would the blood charm protect him?”

“That’s only part of the charm. He needs to dwell in the place where his mother’s blood lives. Hence Petunia.”

Snape paused and then asked, quietly, “how much of her blood?”

“Pardon?”

“You said as long as Harry can call home the place where his mother’s blood dwells, he’ll be protected.”

“Yes.”

“What does the wording mean by ‘her blood?’ What was your intent when you cast the charm onto Petunia’s house?”

Dumbledore looked startled. “Just that Harry would be safely housed in her home, wherever that may be.”

“What about a non-relative who has Lily’s actual blood in their veins? Did you specify in the charm that Harry had to stay with relatives or can he dwell with anyone who shares her blood?”

“What are you getting at, Severus?” Dumbledore sounded a touch concerned.

“Amicitia aeternitas.” Snape said.

Albus raised his eyebrows.

Snape smiled without humor. “A bond of eternal friendship.”

At Dumbledore’s silence he continued, “when Lily Evans and I received our Hogwarts letters, we performed a friendship bond. Say an incantation, slice the skin and press the wounds together so the blood ‘mixes.’”

“A touch dark for eleven years old,” the twinkle in his eye was long gone. He seemed not just disturbed by this news, but annoyed.

Snape shrugged. “It was her idea. She found the spell. Granted, it was in one of my mother’s books…”

“So you think that because of this spell so long ago, Lily’s blood dwells in you?” He sounded suspicious.

“Possibly. I don’t know the nature of the protective enchantments, hence my asking.”

“Do you still have this book?”

In response, Snape lifted his hand. A book on the shelf behind Albus flew to his upraised palm. Snape flicked to the index, having only remembered the name of the spell and not the page. He found it and glanced it over quickly before handing the book to Albus.

He read it. It was a short and simple spell.

“This is hardly appropriate for children, Severus.”

Snape shrugged. “My mother always gave me free access to her books. I was never one to shun the darker arts, even as a boy.”

“Did you use a silver blade to make the cuts?” Albus asked, reading the spell.

“I believe so. I’ve had my own potion supplies since I was seven. Silver blades are standard.”

Dumbledore was silent. “It’s…possible the protective enchantment would recognize her blood in you. Since the term ‘blood’ is fairly unspecific I suppose the spell could include you.”

“Is there any way to test that without putting Potter’s life on the line?”

“Unfortunately, there’s not.” Albus snapped the book shut. His tone was firm as he said, “it’s in Harry’s best interest to go back to his aunt, which he will.”

“Is it though?” Snape asked, trying and failing to keep the insolent tone at bay. This was Dumbledore he was speaking to, not a simple-minded colleague.

Albus regarded him and said, “how close are you with Harry, truly?”

Snape frowned, unsure what Dumbledore was getting at. “At the end of last term I found him companionable. He no longer inspires the ire in me that he once did.” Even as he said it he couldn’t believe it was true. “If he did I wouldn’t have bothered bringing him here. I’d have left him for dead the way your precious muggles did.”

“Regardless of his living situation, the charm will fall July thirty-first of next year.”

“His seventeenth birthday.”

“Precisely. Are you willing to extend this relationship until then at the very least?”

Snape hadn’t thought that far in advance. With the type of life he lead it was difficult for him to plan. He couldn’t guarantee he’d make it to the end of each day. And now he was seriously courting the idea of taking care of a teenager all summer long and if he was truly honest, beyond the summer and potentially into the school year? Had he taken leave of his senses?

“Sure,” Snape said. Assuming I live that long.

Dumbledore sighed and ran a fingertip across the edge of the thin book. “Amicitia aeternitas is likely not powerful enough to rival the strength of the shield enchantment, given that literal children were able to successfully create it.” His voice was softer, resigned, when he said, “given your relationship with Harry that burgeoned over the last year, he can stay here for now. When he is at full health however,” Dumbledore’s blue eyes met Snape’s, “he will go back to Petunia.”

Snape pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw.

“In the meantime,” Dumbledore said, “it is of utmost importance that his whereabouts stay among trusted individuals. I shall tell the Order.”

Snape nodded. “What of the boy’s friends?”

“I think Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley have proven themselves trustworthy.” Dumbledore nodded slowly. “Yes, they can know as well.” Dumbledore sipped his tea and asked, “how did you come to acquire Harry?”

“He wrote me for a healing potion.”

Dumbledore raised a brow. “And that results in his staying in your home?”

Snape scowled. He felt like he was eleven and being interrogated by the Headmaster about the origins of a prank gone awry.

“I saw Harry’s deplorable living situation and rectified it.”

“Ah.”

“I’d like to learn more about the blood shield.” So I can figure out a way around it so Harry doesn't have to go back to them. “Is anything about it written anywhere?”

“Of Lily’s original shield, no. I used a casting enchantment to bind it to her home. I modified the casting method a touch but I shall send you a written copy of the original.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I’m allowing Harry to stay here, Severus, strictly until his health is at full capacity. I will instruct Poppy to check in on the boy in a week’s time.”

“Don’t trust me to tell you?” Snape muttered. Smart man.

“I trust you with my life, Severus, and I trust you with Harry’s, but I hope you know what you’re doing,” Dumbledore said. “It’ll be far harder to protect him in the magical world than in the muggle one,” Dumbledore said.

“My home is unplottable and few people know where I live. No one has yet questioned the strong wards on my home. You know how powerful they are.”

“I do. Which is why I’m allowing this. And anyway, moving him around too much would draw unnecessary attention. Is there a chance his illness will return?”

“It’s clearing up but there’s no telling if it will flare again,” Snape said, being vague on purpose. He wanted to confirm with Harry that he actually wanted to stay here for a few more days. Harry seemed content and hadn’t even gotten into trouble yet, amazingly. Teeley had reported that Harry had taken some food to his bedroom, which Snape was fine with. The boy was taking food without permission and Snape saw it as a win, even if he was squirreling it away in his room.

“The sooner he goes back to Petunia, the better,” Dumbledore said.

The study’s door flew open and banged on the wall, startling both men.

“No!” Harry burst into the office.

“Harry!” Snape scolded.

“I’m not going back to them!” He declared. His fists clenched and the panic that had been circling his chest earlier had evolved into fury. He shook his head at Dumbledore. “You can’t make me go back there!”

I guess I don’t have to ask Harry if he’d like to stay, then. Snape’s face was a strange mix of annoyed and smug as he turned his gaze on Albus.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said calmly, “the blood charms protect you from people who would wish you dead.”

“The Dursleys want me dead,” Harry shot back, “I could’ve died if Snape hadn’t done anything. Er, maybe. I was really sick and they didn’t care! My core was depleted and Snape gave me some weird potion to make it better!”

Snape would normally snap at Harry to show some respect to the Headmaster, but in this case Snape agreed with Harry. He leaned back in his chair, watching Dumbledore. The older man exhaled a long breath. His blue eyes had lost their twinkly warmth long ago. “Professor Snape, Harry,” Dumbledore corrected.

Harry huffed.

Dumbledore continued, “the blood charm protects you—”

“—not from them it doesn’t,” Harry interrupted, shaking his head. “What’s the point of the wards if my aunt is going to kill me anyway? Snape has all these powerful old vampire wards on this place. Voldemort won’t find me here!”

Snape pushed his chair back and shot to his feet. “Professor Snape, I mean,” Harry corrected himself nervously as Snape approached him. Harry stiffened as Snape drew near, half expecting him to bend him over and let him have it, Dumbledore be damned. Snape moved behind Harry and gathered the loose fabric of his Tshirt, pulling it back tight so it was stretched across Harry’s torso.

“Look at how malnourished he is, Albus,” Snape said. He put his splayed fingers across the side of Harry’s rib cage. Each finger nestled in the space between the bones. “Do you see? He wasn’t fed enough. School ended three weeks ago. He left Hogwarts hale and hearty and this happened while he was at Petunia’s.”

Harry didn’t particularly like being manipulated about like a doll but Snape was making good points so he kept his mouth closed. He was also so bloody touch-starved that the warmth of Snape’s hands bleeding through the cotton shirt sent bolts of frisson up and down his legs. That sometimes happened when Hermione hugged him too.

Snape let the gathered fabric loose and pulled down Harry’s collar, exposing the prominent bones so Dumbledore could see. “Believe it or not, he looks better now than he did when I picked him up a week ago.” Snape stepped back from Harry and folded his arms.

“Harry, you will stay here until fully recovered,” Dumbledore decreed. “Not a moment longer.”

Snape inclined his head. This was as good as it was going to get, it seemed. “Harry? Alright with you?”

Harry shook his head, nearly frantic, “I don’t want to go back there—”

“Harry,” Snape said in a low tone.

Harry went silent and looked away. “Fine.”

“Good,” Snape said, “Get out. Go back to the parlor and stay there this time.” He grit his teeth and lowered his voice. “You and I are going to discuss this later.”

Harry darted off. He didn’t dare disobey. Hugo followed him down the corridor and happily trailed Harry back to the sofa where he curled up. The big dog sat in front of him, panting with his tails swaying. Rather than pick up his spy book Harry hugged the big dog’s soft neck. His mind was too full to focus. This was such bullshit. Snape and Dumbledore would send him back to Privet Drive so he had to enjoy every second he could. A thought popped into his head. Why not just…be sick longer? He could easily fake the occasional cough and sniffle. Could he really fool Snape though? He had some fever fudge left. Fred and George had been eager for volunteers and they’d let Harry have a crack at whatever products he wanted. Snape wouldn’t kick him out until he was better but still. Harry shook his head. Snape was smart and he’d see through any ruse Harry could come up with and toast his arse if he lied. It wasn’t worth it.

Harry sighed into Hugo’s neck. “I hate this, boy. I really hate this.”

Hugo whined.

***

The floor upstairs creaked and Harry looked up. Snape’s and Dumbledore’s voices grew louder until they were thudding and thumping down the old wooden steps. They moved for the fireplace and the two men exchanged words about keeping in touch. Dumbledore bid goodbye to Harry and left through the floo.

Snape turned to him. Harry put the book down.

“I don’t want you going back to the muggles,” Snape said.

Harry nodded, relieved.

“However, that decision is not up to me. Or you. Professor Dumbledore thinks that your aunt’s home is the best place for you.”

“Professor Dumbledore is wrong,” Harry countered. “They hate me! They actually, really hate me!”

Snape stared at him for a few moments. He wasn’t going to disagree. “Be that as it may, we need to have a discussion about eavesdropping.”

Harry scoffed and Snape folded his arms and looked down at Harry with a stern expression. “Up,” He said, as if commanding a broom to rise. Harry unfolded himself from the sofa and stood in front of his professor. He stared at Snape’s elbow. “Eavesdropping, Harry, will not be tolerated. I know that you know eavesdropping is not on. If something is meant for your ear, you will be invited.”

“But I thought you were gonna talk about me—and you did.”

“Look at me when you’re speaking.”

Harry looked up at his dark eyes.

“How did you eavesdrop? A spell? If it was one of those blasted ears again, so help me…”

Harry frowned and reached into his pocket, pulling out the fleshy extendable ear string.

Snape snatched it from him and muttered something about “those bloody twins” and “terrible influence.” He shoved the ear into his pocket. “Never again, Harry.”

“If it’s about me, I have a right to know!” Harry hated how whiny and childish he sounded.

Snape let his arms drop from their folded position and he looked like he wanted to grab Harry and shout but instead he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I know that adults in your life have not always kept you well informed,” Snape opened his eyes. “When you were younger this seemed to be the best course of action. However,” he said carefully, “you will be of age soon and I do think that you should be privy to some of the decisions people are making about your life.”

“Thank you. Finally,” Harry muttered.

“Some of the decisions, Harry. Not all. Not everyone thinks you should be informed.”

“Dumbledore,” Harry muttered.

Snape neither confirmed nor denied it. “I will tell you what I can and will include you in conversations when appropriate. If I respect you enough to include you when necessary in conversation, you need to respect me and believe me and obey me when I say that a discussion is not for your ears.”

Harry’s boiling indignation had cooled and he nodded. “Okay.”

“Good. You know that sort of behavior is inappropriate. You’ve attempted to listen in on enough Order meetings to know that. You’ve been warned about eavesdropping, yet you still persist, so you will be punished. You’ve earned yourself lines.”

Harry took a deep breath. Writing lines wasn’t bad. He could handle some lines.

“Two hundred times: “I will mind my own business and never eavesdrop on conversations not meant for my ear.”

Harry frowned. That was a long sentence.

“Be grateful it’s nothing something worse,” Snape suggested.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“You have until Sunday to complete them.” Snape added.

Oh, well that wasn’t too bad. It was only Tuesday.

“How much did you hear?”

“Dumbledore said Ron n’Mione are trustworthy and he asked you how I got here and he said I could stay here ‘til I’m better and that he’d tell the Order. That’s it, I swear!”

Snape gave him a final glare. “No more eavesdropping.” Snape pushed his dark hair away from his face. “I think we should have a chat about rules and consequences so you know exactly what to expect while you’re in my home.”

Harry looked away but nodded. It’s not like I’ll be here long enough to break many rules anyway.

“We’ll talk over lunch. What would you like? I usually have a sandwich or something light.”

“That’s fine,” Harry said. He followed him into the kitchen and Harry saw a pile of post on the table. Snape flipped through it. He put aside some envelopes and a magazine. Harry glanced at the title of the magazine.

“PoMo?” He asked, tilting it towards himself and reading the four large letters at the top of the cover.

“Potions Monthly.” Snape said absently, flipping through the rest of the small stack. To Snape’s surprise, Harry opened the magazine. Harry read some of the dry text on one page, then flipped to a different page and found more dry text. Snape wondered if he could order a subscription of some magazine or something for Potter to read. Anything to keep the boy out of trouble this summer. He knew that Harry—or any student not deeply interested in potion brewing—would find the professional journal edition of PoMo tortuously dull. Harry closed the magazine and sat at the table. Snape tapped the table and a plate of sandwiches appeared, along with some sliced fruit and crisps and two glasses of water.

Harry waited, looking at the food rather longingly until Snape served himself before Harry glanced up at him as if looking for permission. “Go on,” Snape said. Harry took half a sandwich and a few apple slices. He looked at the strawberries but paused and eyed Snape as if expecting him to protest. Snape suppressed an exasperated sigh. Hadn’t they been over this? What did Harry expect he would do? Shout? Smack his hand away? Snape said nothing, curious to see what Harry’s next move would be. Harry pulled his hand back and sat still, looking heart-wrenchingly lost.

“Harry,” Snape said, summoning his best patient voice. It wasn’t a voice he pulled out very often. “Take anything you want. Here.” He pushed the strawberries and crisps across the table. “The strawberries are very good. They’re in season.”

Harry grabbed three strawberries as well as a generous handful of crisps.

“You don’t have to wait for my permission to eat. Ever,” Snape said again. “You can take as much as you want of anything on the table. There’s more of everything. I appreciate you waiting for me to go first but it’s not necessary.”

“I really like berries,” Harry said. “My aunt would buy them if they were on sale, but, I wasn’t allowed to take any before Dudley. He would grab all the best ones and leave the bruised and bad ones behind. I would sneak them sometimes, at night.” He smiled as if this was a fond memory.

“Sometimes he’d miss one of the good ones. They were so juicy and sweet.”

Harry put the whole berry in his mouth and hummed as the sweet juice flooded his tongue.

Snape made a mental note to tell Teeley to keep a steady supply of fresh berries in the house.

They were quiet for a moment, eating, before Snape began speaking. “If you are going to stay here for the time being, we need to lay ground rules. I trust I don’t have to tell you that if you disobey me, there will be consequences.”

Harry nodded and looked at the remaining half of his turkey sandwich. “What will you do?” They weren't at school anymore. He was in Snape's house, which was still weird and daunting but somehow becoming okay. Outside of the realm of Hogwarts rules, Snape could do anything at all to him and there was no McGonagall or Hermione to run to.

“You know you are not allowed in either my study or the third floor or the island unless accompanied by me or with my permission. Clear?”

“Yes, Snape—er, sir.”

Snape sipped from his mug. “You can call me sir, or Professor. I’d prefer you call me Severus. We rather…have gone a touch beyond the typical student-professor interactions.”

Harry snorted. They’d left those ‘typical’ interactions in the dust months ago.

“Given our…recent history,” Snape continued, “I think we can use first names, yes?”

Snape didn’t think Harry would immediately start using his first name, if he ever did at all. He wanted to give Harry the option, however. Harry was in his home for Merlin’s sake. Barely anyone knew where he lived and he hardly ever brought anyone here. Crowcaster House was his sanctuary and his fortress, his place away from all the hubbub of Hogwarts, away from all the whining, ridiculous students and loud colleagues. He’d rather not be called ‘Professor’ in this place that he kept so separate from his in-school self.

Harry blinked. Referring to a professor by their first name was as foreign to him as ancient Sanskrit. “I’ll try,” Harry said. He almost added, ‘Severus’ but couldn’t force it. He’d never once said the man’s name out loud and didn’t want to do it now. He was surprised Snape had offered it and the extension of familiarity lit up something warm and twisty in his gut.

“I will endeavor to continue with 'Harry,' as you expressed a preference for my using your first name?"

"Yes, sir."

"My rules and consequences are simple and easy to understand,” he added in a lighter tone, “even for a Gryffindor.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Don’t lie to me,” Snape said. “Ever. We got into the habit of white lies last year.”

Harry grinned. “Remedial potions lessons.” He reached for another strawberry.

Snape inclined his head. “That was to protect your hide from Umbridge. I don’t normally condone lying but in her case it was well warranted.” He paused, thinking. “Obviously don’t play with fire or shoot off random unknown spells. As I don’t want your brain turning to mush you’ll practice your spellwork and your potions under my direct supervision.”

“My spellwork? I’m underage.”

“I don’t care about the Ministry’s idiotic rules. They can only detect if magic has been used, not by who, and this place has centuries’ old shields on it. If they kick up a fuss, I’ll handle it. You’ll practice your magic and that’s final.”

Harry nodded, excited. He popped the rest of the berry into his mouth. He was allowed to do magic! Snape would brew potions with him! He liked when he brewed with Snape. He remembered brewing the Draught of Peace in detention last year and how calm and encouraging Snape had been. It was so different from the snappish way he acted in class. Harry had loved that soft moment between them and wanted badly to recapture it.

“Those are the big rules,” Snape said. “Nothing you can’t handle. I’m sure more things will come to me or more situations will arise. Don’t do anything barmy. Don’t do anything dangerous. Oh, and don’t whine. I hate whining. You’re almost of age so I expect you can entertain yourself in an intelligent way that befits a wizard of your age and intellect.” Snape finished his sandwich.

“Okay.”

“I am just as busy over the summer as I am during the school year, if not more so,” Snape continued.

“Really? What do you do?” Harry asked, curious.

“I brew potions for private clients. These potions are usually difficult and require much of my time and attention. Like I said, I expect you to stay out of trouble and keep yourself busy. I assume you don’t have your sixth year books yet?”

“Uh-uh.” Harry shook his head.

“Use words, please.”

“I do not have my sixth year books.” Harry barely suppressed an eye roll.

“Better, but lose the tone. Next time I go to Diagon Alley I’ll pick them up for you.”

“Can I go with?”

Snape regarded him. “Maybe. If your behavior is acceptable, you manage to keep the sarcasm at bay, and if you’re feeling well enough.”

“Why d’you keep thinking I’m gonna get in trouble?” Harry asked.

Snape stared at him.

“I don’t get into that much trouble.”

Snape continued staring at him. One brow went up.

“I don’t!” Harry said.

“For someone who doesn’t get into ‘that much trouble’ I sure seem to remember tanning your hide several times last year.”

Harry scowled and took another strawberry.

“That,” Snape leaned back in his chair and crossed his leg over the other, “leads us to consequences. If you break any of these rules, you will get punished.”

Harry slumped down with a resigned expression on his face. He expected as much.

“You know I’m not opposed to physical punishment. In fact, I find it very effective. Despite our interactions last year, you can still expect a spanking as a consequence.”

Harry huffed and leaned his head back on the chair, groaning at the ceiling.

“Something to say?”

“I hated that!”

“Then the threat of “that” should be a good incentive to behave. If you don’t want to experience “that,” then follow my rules.”

“C’mon, Snape, er, sir. That asphodel potion is over with. Don’t you think I’m too old for it? I’m sixteen!”

“You’re fifteen.”

“Well, I’m almost sixteen. That’s for little kids….”

“Hm,” Snape nodded thoughtfully. “You know? I do think you’re too old to go over my knee.”

“Really?” Harry grinned. “Just like that?”

“Yeah.” Snape smiled. “You know, when I was a student at Hogwarts, naughty children above the age of fourteen weren’t smacked with a paddle or hand.”

“Yeah!” Harry nodded. Snape was agreeing with him! He couldn’t believe it.

“Instead,” Snape continued. “They were made to bend over their professor’s desk to receive the cane or the strap.”

Harry’s smile vanished and his eyes went wide.

“So, yes, Harry, at fifteen you are far too old to go over my knee. And at sixteen, as you insist you are, it would be outrageous to expect you to endure something as childish as a mere few whacks with my hand.”

Harry was shaking his head back and forth the whole time Snape spoke. Oh no.

“I can certainly put you across the table and take a strap to your backside if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“No! No, your knee is fine. I don’t want to go over the table.” Harry frowned at his empty plate. Effing Slytherin.

“No?” Snape pretended to sound shocked. “Hm.”

Harry took a deep exasperated breath. He wouldn’t win if he kept arguing. He knew from painfully personal experience what Snape was capable of. The man had said and shown him as much last year.

“If you do anything dangerous and endanger your life or jeopardize your safety, you will get spanked. If you lie to me, you will get spanked. For smaller infractions, you would lose flying privileges, I’d give you lines, or restrict you from contacting your friends.”

“That’s a lot of punishments,” Harry said.

“They wouldn’t all be at once,” Snape said with an eye roll. “Unless you do something colossally stupid even by Gryffindor-ish standards. Also, those three places I mentioned—the ones you’re not allowed to go to?”

Harry nodded.

“What were those places?”

“The island, third floor, your study.”

“Set foot anywhere near those three areas without my permission and you will have difficulty sitting, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I won’t take you by surprise,” Snape assured him. “Or at least I’ll strive not to. If you’re unsure about something, ask me. If you commit a sin that we’ve not discussed and I decide you need to be punished for it, we’ll talk first.”

Harry blinked. Snape was being downright reasonable.

“Okay,” Harry said.

Snape looked him steadily in the eye. “Despite what you may think I don’t actively want you to be unhappy.”

“No, sir. I know that now. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome but you don’t need to thank me.” Snape picked a crisp off his plate. “And we’ll both work on the use of first names.”

Rules-wise, Snape was being more than fair. Harry found that he was fully expecting him to be unreasonable, probably because they were no longer in Hogwarts and under the rules familiar to both of them. Snape could have come up with anything but had only offered: Don’t lie, don’t whine, don’t do anything really stupid or dangerous and don’t go to a few specific places. Snape hadn’t said anything about enforcing a bedtime or tidying the house or cooking meals or keeping him from eating or seeing his friends. Had he not thought of it? That seemed unlikely.

“Have you always lived here?” Harry asked.

Snape looked up at him.

“I mean,” Harry said, “did you, er, grow up in this house?”

“No,” Snape said. “Why?”

“Just wondering.” Harry glanced around. “It’s a nice house.”

“I grew up in Cokeworth, a few streets over from your mother.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. “Oh. I know you said you guys were friends, but, I didn’t realize you knew her that long.”

“Mm, yes. We were six or seven or so when we met.”

“Is, do you know, are any of my mum’s relatives in Cokeworth?” There was a touch of hope in his voice that made Snape wince.

“No,” Snape said quietly. “Your grandmother passed some time ago, and your grandfather before that.”

“Oh,” Harry said, “and then you moved here?”

“Eventually, once I made enough money.”

“What about…er…”

“Yes?”

“Your parents?” Harry said, shifting. He glanced up at Snape.

“Both deceased.”

Harry nodded and didn’t ask anymore questions. They finished eating and Snape sent the dishes to the scullery with a wave of his hand.

“Are you tired?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna go read some more?”

“Of course.” Snape would never say no to an interest in reading.

“Can I read outside?” Harry asked, eying the beautiful June afternoon beyond Snape’s window.

“Yes,” Snape stood.

Harry decided to push his luck. “Can Hugo be out there with me?”

Snape nodded. “Get your book.”

Snape brought him out to the bricked patio shaded by the large oak Hedwig was currently sleeping in. Hugo darted off across the big expanse of lawn, barking at a flock of birds that were pecking in the grass. Snape conjured a comfortable chaise lounge in the shade. He also added a small table and a pitcher of water with a glass.

“Keep your fluids up. Don’t leave the book outside when you’re done, understood?”

“Yes, er, Se—Professor. Thank you.”