Fic: An Accident in Time (Harry/Snape)
Day Seven
Saturdays, Harry firmly believed, should not be spent at work.
Yet with his unexpected absence during the previous week, his boss had suggested that Harry might want to come in on Saturday to clear up his paperwork. There hadn't been anything Harry could say against that - there was an awful lot of paperwork to be done, and with the three days he'd been missing, the mountain had only grown. So Harry struggled out of bed and went to work.
He hadn't wanted to leave his house at all. Part of that was due to his dislike for paperwork, and he could imagine better ways to spend his time on a Saturday than brooding over boring formulas and unintelligible law texts. The larger part was his worry for Severus.
He hadn't seen much of the boy over the past couple of days as Severus had mostly spent the time locked up in his room. Whether he was forty or fifteen, the man could sulk for the Wizarding World Games. And while Harry worried what a sulking Severus might get up to, his biggest worry was what others might do in an attempt to get the sulking Severus out of the safety of Harry's wards.
There had been no further attempts to breach his wards. But Harry believed the Unspeakables would try again, and the weekend was the best time for that. None of the Unspeakables had to be at work, so they could attack as a group. Harry's wards, even bound to the ward stone, could not withstand a full attack by a group of adult wizards.
Even if Harry was home, he wouldn't be able to fight them off for long, barely long enough for reinforcements to get there - and on a Saturday, those reinforcements would be nothing more than the two Aurors on duty. Not enough to fight off a group of Unspeakables.
But while Harry was away from home, he depended on his wards' alarm spells - and he wasn't sure the alarm would come in time for him to keep the Unspeakables away from Severus.
Harry left very, very reluctantly. His admonitions to Severus about being careful had not been well received. Once at headquarters, he spent most of his time listening with half an ear to the alarms instead of filling out forms. The rest of the time he spent wondering about his paranoia. Taking care of Severus seemed to turn him into Mad-Eye Moody.
By two o'clock, Harry decided he'd been there long enough. He hadn't got much done, true, but at least his boss couldn't say Harry hadn't been in.
Arriving home, Harry's first action was to check his wards. He felt very relieved - and more than a little foolish - when they proved untouched. No one had tried to take Severus away. Harry's mood immediately improved, and he thought he could even deal with a sulky (but these days always showered) Severus.
However, Severus seemed to be in a better mood as well. He had come out of his room and was once more sitting in the living room with his journals. He even deigned to greet Harry, and later approached him with a question about something he had read in one of his journals. Although there was little that Harry could tell him, Severus showed no impatience at Harry's lack of knowledge.
A little later, Harry was surprised to find himself in a lively discussion with Severus about defensive magic. That was something Harry knew a lot about, so he was able to answer Severus's questions and even hold his own against Severus's arguments.
It was almost fun, Harry realised. Sitting in his safe living room, on the sofa next to Severus, talking with him and watching his face flush with enthusiasm … it was amazingly nice.
Severus looked nice, too. It wasn't only his clothes. His face was less pale and, Harry thought, not as thin anymore. There was a small smile on his lips as he excitedly talked about Shield Charms, and it wasn't a nasty smile. With his hair clean and eyes sparkling with animation, Severus looked rather … handsome.
It was a pretty stunning discovery.
The chiming of the Floo alarm that signalled an incoming call made Harry blink. For one, dazed moment, he thought the sound was some kind of musical-magical emphasis on his discovery. Then he recognised the sound and shook his head. Getting to his feet, he mumbled an apology to Severus and left the living room, heading for his little Floo chamber.
He'd had the Floo moved from the living room to a separate chamber after he'd been surprised by Mrs Weasley one morning. Talking to the woman who was almost his mother while wearing nothing but underwear, his chest covered in bite-marks and his lover prowling down the hall stark naked, was not something he wanted to do ever again. With the Floo in a separate room, he at least had a chance of throwing on a robe - or getting his thoughts back in order after he'd just had the rug pulled out underneath his feet.
Harry was doubly glad for the additional seconds it took him to walk from living room to Floo chamber when he saw an unfamiliar face hovering in the flames.
Auror-trained skills helped him examine his caller quickly. Male; small, neat beard; high forehead; stern looking. The type of face his mentor at the Auror department had called the "should wear glasses"-type. Scholar. Instantly, Harry was wary.
'Good afternoon,' Harry greeted him with bland politeness while he sat down in the low chair in front of the fire.
The stranger's smile was equally bland and polite. 'Good afternoon, Mr Potter. My apologies for calling you unannounced. I had hoped to find you at home today.'
The wizard's slightly oily voice made the hairs at the back of Harry's neck rise. He didn't need his instincts to scream at him to know that whatever the man wanted from him, it wasn't something Harry would like. 'Well, you've found me at home,' he said, trying his best to remain calm and courteous. 'Is there something I can do for you?'
The wizard's face twisted into an expression of insincere shock. 'Oh, no, Mr Potter! Indeed not. I would not dare to call you and demand your assistance. No, no, quite the opposite, actually!'
He smiled benevolently, and Harry gritted his teeth. 'Yes?' he prompted. 'Let's start with you telling me who you are, and then you explain why you think I need your assistance.'
'Of course, Mr Potter, my apologies.' The wizard nodded. 'I assumed you knew my name. Bainbridge is my name, Henry Croft Bainbridge, Mr Potter. I am the Healer in charge of the Spell Damage ward at St Mungo's Hospital. It was brought to my attention that you might be in need of my assistance. My niece, Clara Croft, senior secretary in the Wizengamot Administration, informed me that you had taken time off work this week in order to deal with a cursed family member. We at St Mungo's Hospital are well aware that in the past you have had trouble keeping your visits away from the notice of the press, so I was convinced that this was the reason you did not contact us before.
'Therefore, as the Senior Healer, I decided to approach you in this fashion for indeed, Mr Potter, as well-versed as you are in dealing with all manners of curses, you must be aware that a curse victim needs medical care from professional and experienced Healers. This is especially important to remember if the curse victim is a family member. We do not recommend that even our own staff attempt to cure family members. There are curses that are crafted to attack any wizard or witch of the same blood who comes too close, physically or magically, to the victim.
'So I humbly offer you my help, Mr Potter. Send the poor victim to my care, and I shall give them my closest attention and do my utmost to break the spell.' Healer Bainbridge smiled benignly.
It was all Harry could do not to gape at the wizard. Not only because Bainbridge was a pompous ass. But how stupid did he think Harry was? A cursed family member? The Healer couldn't possibly believe that Harry would buy the story that St Mungo's "had heard" about his "cursed family member". Which family member would that be, after all? Everyone knew that the Weasleys were the closest Harry had to family
It was a ruse to get at Severus, of course. Harry remembered seeing Bainbridge's name on one of the files (and he'd have to talk to Hermione about why the wards let the wizard Floo call when he'd been identified as a threat by name). But even if he hadn't remembered the name, that ridiculous story would have set off alarm bells in Harry's head.
Either St Mungo's Healers were idiots, or they thought Harry was an idiot, or they were absolutely awful schemers.
Well, if that was the calibre of his enemies this time around, Harry wouldn't have to worry. At all.
The thought was enough to relax his earlier tension, and he had to fight to keep his smile in. It wouldn't do to let the Healer know that Harry had seen through him. Biting back his laughter, Harry made himself frown in confusion.
'A cursed family member?' he repeated innocently. 'Well, I am very grateful for your offer, Healer Bainbridge, but I think there must have been a mistake. Are you sure your niece mentioned me? My only living family members are Muggles, and if they'd been cursed, the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes would have taken care of them.'
The Healer blinked, looking lost for a moment as though it had never entered his mind that Harry would refuse his generous offer. 'Mistake? No, no, Clara mentioned your name. She is not generally prone to repeat gossip, but she thought your sudden absence noteworthy and told me when we had tea last week.'
'Gossip!' Harry laughed, delighted. For once, the Ministry's gossip mongering would work in his favour. 'Oh, I understand. I'm very sorry, Healer Bainbridge, but you - or your niece - have fallen prey to Ministry gossip. Never trust anything a Ministry employee tells you they "have been told" or "have heard". It's always grossly wrong and exaggerated. I was away to deal with a Life Debt. There was no talk of curses or family members. That must have been a Ministry grapevine addition.'
Bainbridge looked as though he wanted to reach through the fire and throttle Harry. 'Clara was quite clear in her information,' he insisted.
'I don't doubt it.' Harry did his best to curb his amusement. Idiot or not, it wasn't wise to offend a Senior Healer too much. 'I'm just saying that the source of Clara's information was wrong. Hey, that information travelled from level two to level three. That's plenty of time for gossip to become embellished. But anyway, while I thank you for your offer, I can assure you there is no cursed family member in my house.'
He smiled apologetically into the Healer's angry face. There was nothing more that Bainbridge could say to convince Harry if he didn't want to mention Severus's name and end the game. Bainbridge seemed to know that, too, because he gave Harry a reasonably gracious smile, muttered some more apologies, and ended the call.
Harry remained where he was, sitting in the low chair. He laughed at the Healer's idiocy. Although, when he thought for too long about what had been behind the stupid plan - how the Healer had tried to manipulate Harry, how he'd intended to use and abuse Severus - Harry felt all his old rage come back.
Wizards and witches using their power to manipulate others, abusing their power, he hated it just as much as he had when he had been at Hogwarts. He loathed the corruption he'd seen in the Ministry. When he'd become an Auror, he'd fought hard to root it out, the corruption, the abuse of authority, and to make the Ministry a place of fairness and clean politics. He'd even been successful. The Ministry under Kingsley Shacklebolt was a better place than it had been under his predecessors.
But it wasn't perfect. Harry knew that. It would never be perfect. And in his years as an Auror, he'd learnt not only how to fight corruption - but also when to fight it. He'd learnt that charging in and smashing everything to pieces was not the best way, and that sometimes standing back, waiting, letting the manipulators get caught in their own webs was the way to do it.
And he'd learnt that laughing sometimes made the schemers angry enough to make mistakes. And an angry schemer who made mistakes was someone who could be taken in, accused, and tried.
Even if the schemer was a Senior Healer. Harry hoped, really hoped, Bainbridge would make his mistakes soon. Very soon.
Well, it was no use getting angry. No one had done anything wrong - yet - and just because Harry didn't like the Senior Healer didn't mean he wasn't a good Healer. He'd just have to keep his eyes open and Severus safe.
When Harry returned to the living room, he found Severus sitting on the sofa, ostensibly reading a book. But the boy's head shot up the moment the door opened, and Harry noticed how pale and tense he was.
'Hey, are you all right?'
Severus nodded stiffly. 'Yes, of course. Who was that?'
'Senior Healer from Mungo's.' Harry plopped down in his armchair and grinned at the boy. 'Said he heard about me having a cursed family member at home and wanted to help me. Idiot.'
From the fact that Severus's face didn't show the least surprise Harry gathered that the boy had eavesdropped. He was probably worried about his safety again, Harry thought, recalling earlier reactions.
'He was one of your correspondents,' Harry added, nodding towards the pile of Severus's journals next to the sofa. 'Bainbridge. I saw his name on a file and recognised it.'
Severus nodded slowly, not looking at Harry. He shuddered and wrapped his arms around his body. 'He's an awful man,' he whispered.
Without thinking about anything but wanting to comfort the boy, Harry went over to him and wrapped one arm around Severus's thin shoulders. 'Hey,' he said softly, 'don't worry. You're safe, here. He can't get through the wards.'
Severus hiccoughed and shivered. He was so tense Harry's body ached in sympathy.
'Really, don't worry,' Harry repeated, tightening his hold just a little. 'He might be a good Healer, but he's a real idiot. I mean, can you believe he thought I'd buy his story? And just hand you over? How stupid does he think I am? Or you are, really. As if you'd have simply gone with him, even if I had fallen for his lies. You'd have seen through him instantly and then called me a dunderhead and told me what my duty to you and the Life Debt was.'
Severus peered at him. He was still so tense, looking ready to bolt. Harry wondered what he was worried about. That Harry would one day decide to hand Severus over, no matter what he'd said before? No matter that there was a Life Debt between them? That Harry would laugh at him and mock him for being scared? For wanting comfort?
He probably was, Harry realised. Poor Severus. He badly wanted to comfort the boy, hug him and reassure him that, really, Harry would never do either. But he didn't know what to do, exactly - would Severus even let Harry hug him? - or what to say. He wasn't really very good with these things.
In the end, Harry awkwardly patted Severus on his shoulder. 'Cheer up, Severus. If that's the calibre of our enemies, we won't have to worry at all. They're either idiots or abysmal schemers. We're better than they are.'
Severus once more gave him that stunned look. But then a shy, little smile curled his mouth, and he reached for Harry's hand, squeezing it.
'We're better than they are,' he agreed fervently, and then flushed and hid behind his book, leaving Harry to wonder yet again at his reactions. He'd never understand Severus.
Day Ten
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