Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6742183.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape, Dumbledore, Remus_Lupin
  Additional Tags:
      AU
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-05-03 Updated: 2016-07-29 Chapters: 4/? Words: 7137
****** What They Don't Know ******
by slbunnies
Summary
     Harry Potter has been living alone with his problems for a very long
     time and he's used to them by now. But what happens when he finally
     gets the help he needs from someone he never thought would be there
     for him?
***** Chapter 1 *****
It was still dark when Harry abruptly awoke from a terrifying nightmare
drenched in cold sweat and panting heavily. His hand was clutched tightly to
the scar on his forehead, the ultimate cause of his anguish. Quickly he swept
the room with his eyes, frightened at the thought of what might be lurking in
the shadowed spaces of his room. Hedwig was not present; hunting mice usually
left him lacking her company for a few nights.
Experiencing her absences quite often, Harry was aware that it could still be
some time before she was due back. Wiping his forehead of the sweat that had
been beading slowly down from his hairline he shuddered as a cool breeze blew
through the open window. He reached over to the bedside table and scrambled for
his glasses to put on. The hairs on the back of his neck were prickling.
Earlier that night the creak of a floorboard had had him almost jumping out of
his skin. Paranoia simply seemed to overwhelm him during the night; it was as
if the darkness was consuming his judgement. He did realize, though, that this
fear of his was mainly due to the fact that light and dark were commonly used
representations of good and evil. Although Harry always did prefer night to
day, excluding the part where he had night terrors, which certainly made him
wonder about himself.
Of course the floorboard had just been one of the Dursley's making their
nightly trip to the bathroom, which the sound of running water just seconds
later proved. All because of one simple dream the terror he experienced made
him feel like a child again, curled in his cupboard, not completely
understanding how he could become so immensely afraid - red slit eyes glaring
at him directly and a sneer on a face he could definitely say only appeared in
the most horrid of any of his nightmares. Then the customary flash of green.
Voldemort.
He understood that he should have continued with his Occlumency lessons.
Accomplishing the assimilation of concentrating his magic to block intruders
from his mind should have been at the top of his ‘To Do’ list. The Dark Lord
had been starring in his sleep for quite a long time now and his training, if
he had stuck to it, with the Potion’s Master ‘of all things dark and dank’
Snape would have rectified it.
Unfortunately, he had an astounding streak of stubbornness, as did his
Professor, and things between them would not have evolved pleasantly. Previous
examples of their relationship warranted Harry’s claim.
But now it was beginning to get serious. Lacking sufficient sleep most nights
was really getting to him, effecting his nerves, especially when he still had
to deal with the ridiculous antics of his relatives. Not that they ever acted
like they were related to him in any way of course. Their acquaintanceship was
virtually that of slavery.
Harry had never been able to sleep well at night. Even when he was a child a
good nights rest had managed to elude him. As he got older it had progressively
spiralled downhill; he awoke more frequently clinging to the blankets in fear.
The amount of sleep he got only decreased. Harry was starting to worry that
maybe he was becoming an insomniac.
Of course there were sleeping aids he could take, both muggle and wizard alike,
but these always made him feel sluggish and less responsive the next day. This
was not a feeling one desired while being hunted by a dark wizard and mostly
while also having to put up with the Dursley's in the morning.
He was used to the lack of sleep, it was a familiar feeling, but it was taking
a toll on both his body and mind. It was getting much harder to hide the dark
circles under his eyes.
Desperately, in an effort to find relief from his jarring nightmares, he had
mentioned them to Hermione, resident bookworm, and she had volunteered her
intelligence without hesitation. She was one of his best friends after all and
one of the brightest people he'd ever met, excluding prominent figures such as
Dumbledore and Snape.
She had managed to research a few remedies for his sleeping malady, but nothing
had proved to be permanently useful as of yet. Which hadn’t stopped Hermione of
course.
They had found one functional potion for his situation, but he would have been
required to brew himself a large batch once a month, as it only kept for so
long. And asking Snape to prepare the concoction was out of the question. The
fact that it was extremely difficult to make wasn’t the only problem. It was
one of many.
The ingredients, for instance, were hard to come by, or rather they were
expensive and some were also quite rare. Secondly, you had to begin preparing
the ingredients on the eve of a quarter moon exactly sixteen days before the
actual potion could be made. The potion itself had two steps of brewing to be
done six days apart specifically at the setting of the sun.
Harry's eyes had glazed over as he had read the words Hermione had wrote in her
letter explaining the Potion's procedure in explicit detail. Not only was it
complicated to make, but it had to be drank simultaneously with a minor
sleeping draught precisely two minutes past four o’clock every afternoon for
the effects to happen when he needed them to and not randomly in the middle of
the day. Surely one could call it demanding.
The good thing was that if he took it regularly he would sleep for exactly
seven hours every night. But undesirably, these forced sleeps were unnatural
and would make him feel completely unbalanced the next day; more alert and
rested, but unbalanced nonetheless.
Harry turned his brain off as another shock wave of stabbing pain ran through
his scar. An itch was beginning to irritate it. Voldemort was feeling pretty
vindictive - that had been the third time it had hurt since he'd awoken. The
first had been before he had even gone to bed. It was getting really hard to
masturbate himself to sleep with all the mental intrusions.
Sighing, he pushed the covers aside and made the journey from his bed to the
desk only paces away. Not only did the top drawer contain the parchment and
quill he would need to write Dumbledore a letter but also a bottle of muggle
aspirin.
Promptly having sent Dobby, who would do anything he asked of him, with his
vault key and a note he had decided to exchange some of his Gringott's money
before leaving the Wizarding world, reluctant as he was about living with his
relatives again. He figured that the muggle money would come in handy in case
of any emergencies. After the first week of summer, the excruciating headaches
were painful enough that even though he considered it just short of an
emergency he had made a trip to the pharmacy to acquire a pain reliever anyway.
Short, ashen blonde and dressed in one of the stores bright orange uniforms,
the lady behind the counter had smiled at him widely as he approached. She had
explained to him the various medications and what they could do to help his
headaches. He bought what she had recommended most avidly and when he had taken
them that night they had barely even numbed the pain. But it was better than
nothing, seeing as he was, until the end of July, still not allowed to use
magic outside of school. He was counting the days.
Having unscrewed the cap, he unceremoniously dumped a couple into his hand and,
without water, choked them down before sitting in the chair before him to
relax. What he wouldn’t do for one of Madame Pomfrey’s headache remedies.
‘Dumbledore does not know how to fix this,’ Harry thought for the hundredth
time since summer had started.
He pondered the reason why he was still writing to the old wizard about his
nightmares. The Headmaster didn’t really have any proper solutions for him. It
was always, 'sit tight, we're doing what we can, keep out of sight'.
Harry was tired of the lull in his life that the summer season brought. At
least when he was at Hogwarts there was an ample amount of distractions.
Sighing, he pulled the paper and quill from his drawer anyway. He dipped the
quill into a bottle of dark ink and began to write out his last nightmare.
He lit the candle that sat on the corner of his desk and waited patiently for
enough wax to melt for use of sealing his letter. The dark plum color was
customary for sending letters to the Order of the Phoenix. As he wandlessly
muttered the spell that would keep the letter from being opened if intercepted,
he stamped it quickly before the wax could turn gold by using the present he
had acquired from Ginny, the youngest of his favorite red-headed family.
It was a large metal stamp engraved with his initials overlapping a lightning
bolt. Not very original, but it had been a birthday present. It seemed to been
a useful gift, seeing as he had had no other way of actually stamping his
letters properly before, unless you counted the ring he wore on his index
finger. That massive silver ring was the first sign of his rebellion.
Harry speculated briefly, imagining what Dumbledore’s reaction might have been
to receiving the very first letter he had sent displaying the skull emblem.
Lately he was becoming very caustic toward the old man. But, maybe his cynical
ways were just catching up with him. How could he not become so cynical? When
he looked back at the life he had lead and all the things that had occurred, he
questioned how he had managed to stay sane all the while.
Sweat still clung to his skin causing his pyjamas to stick uncomfortably. A
quick trip to the bathroom was in order. Normally he didn’t venture out into
the hallway this early in the night. Not that half past one in the morning was
early of course. It was just that usually the Dursley's were making trips to
the kitchen or the loo until roughly around three or four o’clock. Which left
Harry a window of a few hours until his aunt Petunia awoke every morning to
begin making Uncle Vernon his breakfast.
Pulling himself out of the chair and stopping about an inch away from the door
he listened for the natural nightly noises of his relatives sleeping. All
seemed safe so he cautiously proceeded into the hallway. On tiptoe, he rushed
silently into the bathroom and closed the door carefully. Harry snatched a
towel from the rack and put it across the bottom of the door, blocking any
light from escaping into the hallway to disturb his relatives. It was better to
be safe than sorry.
Another towel was quickly in his hands as he turned the hot water tap on full
blast and pushed the cloth underneath the gush of water that rushed out. The
sound of his Uncle Vernon snoring was usually the cover up for his nightly
escapades and he was thankful for that loud noise, because otherwise the
running water would have awoken at least one of the three.
Sneaking around at night made the wizard wary. He didn’t think he could handle
it if he were ever caught. The Dursley's believed that whatever he did was
unnecessary and simply nonsense. He’d probably wind up turning his Aunt and
Uncle into some farm animal to match the pig his cousin already was.
With the wet towel in one hand Harry flicked the light off, put the other towel
back to it’s proper place, and held his breath as he listened once again for
any of the unusual sounds the three were likely to make. Luckily he heard
nothing. He crept forward through the night and back into his bedroom.
The journeys he did make were usually short and to the point. He never wasted
any time doing things that didn’t need being done. Having already learned what
actions would get him into trouble and how not to get caught, Harry was already
aware that the number one thing was to not waste time. He used the wet cloth to
wipe the sweat from his body, shivering slightly from the cold air tingling
against his damp skin. He should really shut his window.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Mindlessly he put everything away that had been sitting on his desk. He didn't
want to think. Harry was tired of thinking. It only led to distressing ideas,
such as how could he face one of his peers on the battlefield and be expected
to kill them?
He knew the war would eventually come down to that very thing happening. It
really was a common fact that at least half of the Slytherin’s were tied into
becoming part of Voldemort’s circle. Even though Malfoy was his school rival
and many of the Slytherin’s, including the blonde, had tried to make the past
six years of his life at Hogwarts a living hell, he didn’t think he could
manage having to wipe them off the face of the planet. He couldn’t simply point
his wand at them and then ‘poof’- no more existence.
Life was so precious to Harry, seeing as he had lost so many people that had
been dear to him, and killing someone had scared him more than realizing he
might die himself. He hadn’t wanted to take a life. It had just happened. And
now his nightmares were plagued with the horror of it all.
The Ministry of Magic did not know about this incident - neither did Dumbledore
for that matter. Rodolphus Lestrange had attacked him in the muggle world and
he hadn't told a single soul about the incident. It seemed ironic that he had
disposed of Bellatrix’s husband in such a fashion.
Even as he had struggled for his life Harry had not used his wand. He had known
that any magic he produced would be traced, and the hassle of trying to explain
to the Ministry that he was forced to defend his life, yet again, would have
been too much. Thanks to Umbridge and the daily ridicule of the Prophet, they
still believed him to be a spoilt child looking for attention. Voldemort was
still considered to be dead even though he was still very much alive.
His hands had so easily found their way around the Death Eater’s neck and he
had choked the life out of the man before he could even comprehend what he was
doing. It was a good thing that Lestrange had been cocky enough to not just
murder him outright with a spell sniper style. The crazed wizard had actually
attempted to kill him with a knife, but perhaps he was acting on desperation,
or there was even the possibility the wizard had been lacking his wand.
Harry had forced himself to dispose of the body, but having no idea how to
properly do so had just dragged him into a dumpster nearby.
He saw blood on his hands, even though there hadn’t been any in actuality. His
conscience was reminding him of his sin and it was making him feel slightly
insane. Needing a break from the thoughts that had come even though he had
tried to keep his mind empty, Harry rifled through the second drawer in his
desk for the small bottle of fire whiskey Hagrid had sent him home with. The
contents of the bottle were nearly empty but there was enough for a couple more
swigs.
Downing the last of the alcohol he jumped, startled out of his thoughts by an
unknown owl swooping into his room through his window. Hooting happily at
Harry, the small tawny owl flew around the room once before landing at the desk
with his leg outstretched, intending for him to take the letter attached.
He untied it, curious of who sent it and of what they wanted to correspond with
him about. The owl took flight immediately after and was soon out of sight. As
he flipped the letter over the gold stamp imbued with magic opened of it’s own
accord.
 
Harry Potter,
Due to recent unforeseen circumstances you will be securely removed from your
home. This will occur the moment you finish reading this letter. Please, I ask
that you listen to all instructions from those who have come to retrieve you,
as it is imperative to your safety. You will accompany them back to
Headquarters immediately. The password is 'Prancing Faeries'.
Headmaster Dumbledore
 
When he dropped the letter onto his desk it rapidly engulfed itself in flames
leaving only minute scorch marks in its place. He rushed to the door of his
room and flung it wide open as soon as he heard the obvious knocking at the
front door. Praying that it wouldn’t awaken the Dursley’s, Harry practically
flew down the stairs. Suddenly, it burst open, emitting a loud bang that had
his Uncle quickly awake and bellowing profanities.
Severus Snape walked abruptly into the house, Mad-Eye Moody grumpily limping
behind him, and Remus trailing thereafter. Harry was glad that Dumbledore had
at least the sense to have sent one person he liked and trusted.
“You needn’t have blown the door apart, Alastor,” Remus scolded, waving his
arms around in a hilarious fashion, obviously a little distraught. Snape rolled
his eyes.
“What’s done is done,” Snape said, “Now we have the task of acquiring Mr.
Potter. Which shouldn’t be too difficult as he is standing exactly in front of
us.”
“Hello Professors,” Harry mumbled, smiling crookedly at Remus, “I’m so glad to
be out of here.”
“Harry, you know only one of us is technically a Professor now…” Remus replied
but was quickly cut off by Moody before he could say anything else.
“Enough chit-chat, boy,” Moody growled, “Where are your things? We need to
leave as soon as possible.”
“I think I'm supposed to ask for a password?” Harry questioned, unsure what the
password was actually for. Maybe he was supposed to give them the password, but
none of them had asked one of him yet.
He saw Snape grimace before the man gritted out, 'It's 'Prancing Faeries',”
clearly annoyed at having to utter such nonsense. Harry nodded as it was
correct.
“Be right back. My stuff is upstairs.”
As Harry proceeded up the stairs to grab his belongings his Uncle burst from
the room adjacent, purple and looking more bloated than usual.
“Where do you think you’re going, boy?”
He had no need to answer as a spell hit Vernon in the back of his head,
stiffening him completely in a full body bind as he dropped to the floor with a
resounding thud.
“There’s no time to waste. Quickly go and gather your belongings,” Snape
directed, standing beside his Uncle and staring down at the man with distaste.
“It'll wear off in a while. Don't worry about his well-being,” the man added
when he noticed Harry standing there starring.
Having no reason to argue with his Potion's Professor he did as he was told.
Before Harry knew it they were in the living room, together in a circle, each
touching a part of the Portkey the three men had brought with them; a broken
stapler. Counting down from ten they activated it and were pulled to their
destination.
Having assumed he would be standing in the foyer of Grimmauld Place, Harry was
more than slightly unnerved when they arrived in surroundings unknown to him.
It was quite dark and his eyes were not yet adjusted to the lack of light. From
what he could discern out of the chill in the air and the dank feeling was that
they were below ground, in what was possibly a dungeon.
Hearing one of his companions move he soon saw the room and its contents when
the torches on the wall ignited in a powerful burst of magical flame. The room
looked very similar to one of his Professor’s classrooms.
Shelves and cabinets lined three of the walls, the fourth taken up by a long,
dark stained wooden table that was uncluttered except for a large black
cauldron. Jars of random fluids, solids, and colors occupied the many shelves –
things you simply wondered about; whether or not they were body parts or plant
life was something you couldn’t tell. It could have been either. His eyes swept
the room once more in the few seconds before he was being led through the now
distinguishable oak door.
He stayed behind the three men as they started walking up a set of stairs and
into a more brightly lit space that was filled with rows upon rows of books. It
seemed to be a library. He thought about how Hermione would have loved the
place. A few comfy looking chairs, dark blue and most likely antique, were set
near the solitary large window that dominated the room, a lone table located
between them.
Following Remus’ lead, he sat in one of these chairs, patiently waiting to see
if he would be getting more of an explanation of his removal from the
Dursley's. Moody made his excuses and left for what was apparently more
important business. Harry didn't care much either way.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Severus Snape was not an amiable man even at the best of times. No one could
deny his many faults – the constant acerbic insults he so effortlessly spewed,
his many idiosyncrasies, the intentional provoking of those he believed to be
beneath him, which seemed to be anyone and everyone, and his constantly cold
demeanor. He was a man who had no care for anyone’s feelings, who believed no
one was special.
In fact it was assumed that he was sadistic and unemotional for the fun of it.
Most commonly, the response to his scathing personality was avoidance. He
preferred it that way.
Harry was well aware of all of those rather obvious facts having personally
experienced them during his school years at Hogwarts. What surprised the
Gryffindor was that Snape was being tolerant of him. More than that actually.
Yet to rebuke him of his actions or even call him any names, the Potion’s
Master was acting unusually calm about the entire situation, more so even than
Remus.
It was all quite an interesting change in the man’s persona. But, perhaps it
was only a change of Harry’s judgement. Harry was instantly suspicious and on
guard.
Sharply observing that the two men’s only intentions were of producing enough
tea for everyone, Harry didn’t yet have his hopes up that he would be given any
explanations.
Especially since after receiving said tea, the only conversations they seemed
to embark upon namely revolved around tea and other substances you could have
with tea. He shook his head in disbelief that his supposed superiors could all
still manage to argue about such trivial things. Was the rivalry he had with
Malfoy like that? Gods, he hoped not.
After drinking a few cups of tea, Harry was once again surprised when he found
his most hated Professor doling out shots of whiskey. Even Harry had been
provided with one. And he wasn't the only one shocked by the gesture, if Remus'
over-exaggerated features were anything to go by. So, he continued to wait
patiently in silence, a single eyebrow raised as he stared at the two men
before him, his mind whirling about trying to make sense of recent events.
Just as everyone was starting to get comfortable, Dumbledore suddenly apparated
into the room, bringing along a generous amount of dust, enough to coat the
furniture in the room and it’s three occupants.
Coughing, while trying to wipe his glasses clean with a dust-covered shirt,
Harry was momentarily stunned as Dumbledore conjured up another chair. It
looked cushier than their own seats and stood out from the other chairs
drastically, a bright red contrast to the muted blue ones that they occupied.
The Headmaster produced his own tea tray, nonchalantly, and unaware of his
interruption, complete with sandwiches and crumpets. With one extra companion
the more crucial conversation finally began.
“Harry, m’boy,” Dumbledore said sprightly as he levitated the tea tray around
the room, “How are you doing?”
“Uh... just fine, sir. Only very curious,” Harry replied as he continued to try
and remove the dust from himself, ignoring the tray of tea in favour of his own
spiked libation.
“Curiosity is quite healthy, I’m glad to hear it.” Bringing his wand out with a
flourish Dumbledore spelled everyone clean.
“There are a few things I would like to discuss as I’m sure each of you have
your own questions.” His eyes twinkled madly as he took a sip of his drink.
“But before that, Harry, I believe you have a letter for me.”
Harry stared back with owlish eyes, blinking in confusion. He didn’t have to
wait long for an explanation though as Dumbledore caught on to his
bewilderment.
“Would you like a crumpet?” Harry swiftly grabbed one from the tray, his eyes
never leaving the Headmaster’s face. Of course, the old wizard was the master
of diversions.
“I’m sure it would be less tedious for you to simply explain what was within
this letter instead of taking the time to read it myself.” Harry looked
slightly perplexed.
“Well… sir, I had another dream. Voldemort was discussing with that rat
Wormtail about vacationing at Malfoy Manor. There was the usual torture and
lunacy. But I also noted that there were many pure-bloods being tortured as
well. And then I saw what I think was meant to be a private conversation
between Lucius Malfoy and the snake eyed git. They were discussing something
that seemed fairly important, and it sounded as if Malfoy's son might be
involved.” It took a lot for Harry not to simply rant and rave about his
dreams, to not swear up and down about what a bloody bastard Wormtail was or
how sick Voldemort made him.
“Thank you, Harry, it is a horrible burden that you must bare these dreams,”
the elder wizard said solemnly. “I am aware of Voldemort's descent into madness
already, though it may come as quite a shock for some people to learn that he
isn’t just after muggles and half-blooded magical folk.” Dumbledore’s eyes
darted quickly and almost unnoticed to Snape’s.
“Albus, we all know how much of a sadistic bastard Voldemort is and that he is
capable of many such things. However, what we are unaware of is the reasoning
behind your insistence upon retrieving Mr. Potter from his home.” Snape set his
saucer on the quaint little table beside his chair, patiently awaiting the
Headmaster’s explanation, knowing they were likely to only receive half-answers
and partial truths from the old wizard. That was just the way things were.
Snape had been taken aback by the actuality of Mr. Potter being permitted to
participate in their discussions. In the midst of Albus Dumbledore even the
impossible could happen.
“Well, as you yourself know Severus, Voldemort has been working on
disassembling the Dursley’s house defences. It is impossible of course, but the
fact remains that even their knowing Harry’s location is a danger. They could
lure him out or use his relatives to get in,” Dumbledore paused to let the
information sink into the young Gryffindor’s head, “unfortunately, finding a
suitable place were he may be safe is the upsetting matter.”
Harry shifted in his seat, nervous as all three adults fixed their eyes
specifically on him. It felt as if they were scrutinizing every little thing
about him. He bet many witches or wizards would have quickly broke under such a
gaze from these particularly distinguished wizards.
“What about the Weasley's?” Harry ventured to ask. “I could go stay with them.”
Dumbledore gravely shook his head, “That would not be possible Harry, m’boy. As
much as I would like to send you to the Weasley´s it is still too dangerous.”
He put up his hand sensing Harry was about to interrupt. “Yes, you would indeed
be in good care, of that we all know is true, but Voldemort knows of your
acquaintanceship with their family and it could be disastrous. He could easily
find out your whereabouts and the defence we could put up in such short time
would not be enough. You would be putting their entire family in danger.”
“He hates you,” Snape said quietly. Harry looked quickly to his Professor,
shocked to find the man rigidly staring straight into his eyes. There was a
fierce determination there, something he had never noticed before. “He is
focusing all of his attention on capturing you. His inner circle has been given
direct orders to tear down that ward around the Dursley’s when before there
were more important missions that they were assigned to. Even I myself have
been told to poison you - though it would apparently ruin my position with
Albus here.”
“That is very true. The only reason Professor Snape was even able to be a part
in bringing you here tonight is because he informed Voldemort of your removal
and that you were to be brought to the secret location of the Order of the
Phoenix.” Dumbledore looked at Remus, who had yet to say anything and was
patiently contemplating it all. “Would you be able to elaborate to Mr. Potter
the lengths Tom Riddle has gone to in attempting to capture him?”
Remus sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, turning away momentarily
before gazing fully at the young man in front of him.
“The Dark Lord has posted spies on practically every person you have had
contact with over a period of time. Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Luna
Lovegood, Colin Creevey… almost every person in Gryffindor tower has a Death
Eater trailing and keeping tabs on them. The entire Weasley family, including
those out of the country like Bill and Charlie, are being tailed. Even I have
had to deal with a couple of incidents. It is a very dire situation.”
“The ministry has been infiltrated to the point where an approximation of at
least forty percent are under Voldemort’s influence,” Snape added.
“This is all Order business, isn’t it?” Asked Harry, aware that he was now
privy to information that only a select few were known to receive. “Why are you
actually telling me all of this?”
“It is important, we realize, that you understand the full scope of your
circumstances. It will prevent many situations and mishaps from occurring. We
wish to avoid these. We will not let the past become the present. And, now that
you are of age in the Wizarding world it would be foolish for us to not provide
you with such information befitting your stature.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled
as he suddenly found an answer to their earlier dilemma.
“Seeing as there will be another Order meeting in the coming up week that you
shall be attending, if you so wish, I believe it would be best if you stayed
here at this residence for at least a little while.”
“Albus! What makes you think you can simply invite people to stay as a guest in
my home without my consent?” Snape questioned, a snarl edging it's way into his
voice, staring at Harry as if he resembled something spawned from the depths of
hell. Harry glared back at him and then courageously turned to Dumbledore with
protestations of his own.
“I think it would be a fine idea. No one would think to look for you here, at
Snape Manor, and it already has many protections from prying eyes that would be
detrimental for wherever you stayed. I don’t see any reason why you should have
any objections seeing as it will only be temporary,” Dumbledore smartly
replied, knowing neither would outright refuse him.
“I suppose I could manage Potter for one week,” Snape drawled, “as long as a
certain rule-breaking Gryffindor understands whom here is in charge, that is.”
Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, slumping in his
chair to proclaim his defiance.
“Wonderful!” Dumbledore got up from his chair and flicked his wand, causing the
plushy red piece to quickly disappear. “I believe we are done here for now,
gentlemen. Remus, would you be so kind as to meet me at headquarters, there are
a few things I must still discuss with you.” And with that said he vanished,
leaving the three men awkwardly sitting in silence once more.
 
“Well, Harry,” Remus sighed as he rose from his chair, “I guess that means
you’ll be under the care of Severus for a time yet. I dearly wish I could have
taken you in myself, but I suppose that might have to wait just a while
longer.” Harry jumped from his chair and rushed toward his replacement
Godfather. Remus had been there for him through some tough times and even with
the loss of Sirius the werewolf had been a constant presence in Harry’s life.
He would miss him; his arms found their way around the man and they hugged
their goodbyes.
“Why do you have to go right away?” Harry pleaded. “Can’t you just stay a
little while longer?”
“I’m afraid not, Harry. I do need to talk to Albus about a few things before
I’m off again,” the werewolf replied. “I promise I’ll see you as soon as I can
though.”
“Bye, Moony.” Harry smiled as they parted.
“See you, you little rascal,” the man replied, messing Harry’s hair up with a
hand before giving a jaunty wave and apparating from the room.
“So touching, Mr. Potter. Must we with the theatrics? I’ll soon vomit if it
continues,” Snape commented, a slight smirk gracing his features.
“No, Professor, I’m fairly certain I will portray only feelings of boredom,
discontent, and frustration from this point on, which you so happily feed upon.
Don’t become so distraught quite yet,” Harry retorted, snorting at the
disbelief on the Potions Master’s face.
“Very well then, Potter. Let me direct you through the rest of the house so
that I can dissuade you from entering some of the rooms that you, no doubt,
will have the urge to enter and snoop in against my wishes anyway. Not that
you’ll heed much of anything I say, will you, Potter?”
“Perhaps not what you’ll say, but I’ll definitely heed you, sir.” Harry flashed
one of his larger smiles at the man and strode out of the room and into the
hall.
“I’m sure you will,” Snape said dryly as Harry exited the room, following the
Gryffindor with something akin to dismay.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Harry stopped at the end of the hallway, unsure of the direction he should take
as Snape had yet to give an indication of where to head. The man was coming up
behind him, striding with his usual purpose, his long legs carrying him the
distance within seconds. Harry made to move so that he wouldn't be in the way
and found himself doing exactly what he'd tried to avoid, Snape stepping into
him as he'd been directing himself around his standing form at the same time.
“Mr. Potter, watch where you are going,” he snapped, gritting his teeth
together at being jarred so suddenly into the teen. Harry couldn't move,
shocked to find the man's front melded against his own back, and he jerked his
head as indication that he'd heard him speak. Snape sighed, unable to silence
his annoyance, and without much thought gripped the boy by the waist, half
lifting and half nudging him out of the way.
“This way, Mr. Potter,” he told him, moving forward and taking the stairs to
the right that led up to the second floor of his house. It wasn't an overly
large abode, but one could get confused if they didn't know where they were
going. Snape hoped that Potter was paying at least a bit of attention to where
he was being led.
Harry forced his feet to follow, shoving his hands into the pockets of his
jeans, feeling a bit unnerved about having to be in the company of his
Professor in such close quarters. At least they had a whole house – it looked
bigger than the Dursley's place so far – to keep away from each other in. Well,
that was Harry's plan anyway.
“This will be your bedroom. Your personal items have already been deposited
within.” Snape stopped in front of a door, nearly identical to every other one
that Harry wasn't entirely sure how he was going to discern it from the rest of
the rooms, and let him briefly peer inside before he was striding off again.
Harry barely noticed and had to hurry to catch up. They stopped again at the
end of the hall.
“Where's your room?” Harry asked, curious if they were even roomed on the same
floor, or wing, or whatever it was called in big mansion's such as Snape's.
Snape's mouth twisted into a partial grimace, like it had done so of it's own
accord, and he gestured back down the hall from whence they came.
“It is the first room. I only tell you in case of an emergency. You are not to
enter my room under any other circumstance, do you understand, Mr. Potter?”
Harry acquiesced with a firm nod, it wasn't as if he'd ever want to, and Snape
continued, “Here is where you will find the closest facilities to your bedroom.
There is another set above, as well as below, in the exact same spot. It makes
it simple to find.”
Harry tried to keep up as Snape swept through the rest of his house, excluding
the dungeons which were restricted completely to him, pointing out various
places he wasn't allowed access, which seemed to be half the place, and
eventually ended in the dining area.
“That is all. I usually dine around the same time each day and the house-elves
provide meals here. Breakfast is at seven, lunch at noon, and dinner promptly
at six. I'll expect to see you for every meal. If you miss one you will go
hungry until the next. I will not have your presence disrupting my household,”
Snape explained, seating himself at the head of the large, oval table in the
center of the room, “Tea, however, may be had at any time, and you will usually
find crumpets or scones provided.”
He almost jumped when he heard the distinct popping noise of a house-elf
appearing. The elf bowed, his head nearly sweeping the floor, and courteously
asked what his master required before leaving in the same abrupt manner. Harry
wasn't sure how he was going to know what time it was as he had no watch to
figure it out. He wondered if he would be able to talk one of the house-elves
into reminding him.
“Sit, Potter. There are a few things yet that we should discuss,” Snape
ordered, looking imposing to Harry even while simply sitting and drinking tea.
He pulled the nearest chair out and plopped onto it, jarring his elbow against
the edge of the table and grimacing at the pain. He gritted his teeth for a
second and then gave Snape his attention once more.
“For instance, your school work, Mr. Potter, have you finished it?”
“I haven't even started it,” Harry replied honestly. He hadn't had the chance
to while staying at the Dursley's as they kept all of his school things under
lock and key. They hadn't wanted him studying magic under their roof for fear
of him blowing it up with some spell or another and leaving it crumbled over
their corpses.
Snape glared at him. Harry was used to it and stared him down. The man wouldn't
be able to intimidate him any more. He was different now. Snape didn't scare
him.
“Then I suggest you get it started,” Snape said, his tone dry, “And then we can
move on to more pressing matters, like the Dark Lord for instance."
Harry nodded, figuring it was easy to just agree instead of causing an
argument. There was also the fact that he could care less if Snape knew about
the Dursley's and their treatment of him. It wasn't as if the man would care
either.
“You will only be here a week, Mr. Potter, and I expect you to use that time
wisely. You are no longer a child and shouldn't need to be coddled.”
He thought, as he took up his cup and sipped at his plain tea, that Snape sure
did like the sound of his own voice. The man continued to go on about his
expectations but Harry had tuned him out long ago. It was always the same thing
with him anyway. Harry should do this and that, he was a disappointment,
useless, ignorant, a waste of Snape's efforts... he'd heard it all before.
Snape finally ran out of things he wanted to say. He was getting tired any how,
having been up most of the night creating Lupin's Wolfsbane Potion. The full
moon was only a few days away and he had fallen behind on his Potion's
production thanks to the Dark Lord and his needs. For an evil overlord he sure
was needy.
He sighed, noticing the blank look on Potter's face that indicated the boy
wasn't listening to him any longer, and finished off his tea. He set the cup
back in it's saucer with a clank and Potter seemed to snap out of his near
trance-like state. Snape curled his lip into a sneer as he watched him start to
fidget around in his chair.
“You may leave, Mr. Potter. We are done here.”
Harry stayed seated, pondering whether or not he should ask the man about
continuing his Occlumency lessons. He had been presented with an opportunity to
do so and he figured it was as good a time as any to ask.
“Sir...?” he said hesitantly.
“Leave, Mr. Potter. There will be more time to discuss whatever you please at a
later time. Do not make me tell you again.”
Snape watched Potter huff, looking even more like the moody teenager he was as
he pushed himself from his chair and stalked out of the room. He rubbed at his
temples. He just wanted Potter to leave so he wouldn't have to deal with the
swarm of thoughts that usually occurred with his presence. Because he wasn't
just thinking of Potter, no – seeing Potter made him think of everything all at
once.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!