Choosing Family: Thicker Than Water
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I'm very sorry for the delay in posting this, but you'll be happy to hear that when things weren't going well, I procrastinated by working on the next chapter. I can (almost) guarantee the wait will be much shorter for it.
All rights to the world of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour.
Particular thanks must be given to my lovely Betas Tithenai and, particularly, Phoenix Writing who have helped make this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own, particularly since neither has seen the chapter in its entirety.
Additional notes are available before the prologue.
Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated.
Originally posted 05 July '06; edited version posted 18 May '07
Thicker than Water
Harry suspected that even if he did get really fed up with being the 'Saviour of the Wizarding World' and decided to just quit it all, he wouldn't last very long; simply having done something about Malfoy's situation allowed Harry a much more restful sleep than he'd had the night before. As a result, waking up Monday morning was only as difficult as usual, and if his housemates found him a bit quieter than normal at breakfast, well, he was facing an entire afternoon of Potions. That would not be enough to mollify Ron and Hermione, but in response to some less than subtle questioning while studying yesterday afternoon, Harry had finally told his friends - and it wasn't a lie exactly - that Dumbledore had wanted to discuss scheduling plans for the holidays, confirming that Remus would be assisting if he could but also that there would be additional sessions with Snape.
The professors unintentionally gave credence to Harry's excuse, Dumbledore with his worried glances and Snape with his displeased sneer. Malfoy wasn't a concern, since he sat facing away from the Gryffindor table, spoke with almost no one, and stayed for the shortest amount of time possible. Harry was especially grateful for that, since he had no idea how he was supposed to act around the boy whose fate he was deciding.
Harry looked up eagerly when he heard the arrival of the owl post, only partly because he was hopeful that Remus would reply this morning. He'd always looked forward to the morning mail, even during the years when he'd never expected to get letters at all. More than anything else, the arrival of the post made the wizarding world feel real. From the acceptance letters, to Hedwig, to that first morning at breakfast as a Gryffindor, so much of his experience, so much of Hogwarts, began with the post.
The birds were beautiful as they entered, in such a variety of colours and sizes. He watched as the owls circled, looking for the recipients of their letters and parcels and for places to land. With a soft smile born of pleasure and nostalgia, Harry noticed his own beautiful snowy owl headed towards the Gryffindor table. He took a moment before reading the note she carried to give her a rasher of bacon and thank her for her prompt return.
Post for Harry was no longer the rare occurrence it had once been, and his best friends were sufficiently distracted by their own deliveries - the Daily Prophet for Hermione, and a letter from the twins for Ron - that they smiled when they saw his letter and, thankfully, ignored him.
The letter was typically Remus - a chatty update of the household and business, punctuated by witty commentary which was just the slightest bit wry. He wrote at least a short bit nearly every day, rather like one would a journal, and mailed the lot once or twice a week. Today, however, Harry was most interested in the part which would have been added last night after Hedwig arrived, so he turned immediately to the last page:
... anytime, Harry, you know that. I'm
available indefinitely as of Wednesday,
but if you'd like to meet earlier, I can
reschedule things a bit. Since you've
just had your last Hogsmeade day, is
this an official invitation, or would you
prefer to run into each other while I
visit old haunts?
Let me know when and where.
Take care,
Remus
Harry hadn't thought about the logistics of meeting when he'd sent the letter last night, and he wasn't sure he wanted the headmaster to know about Remus's visit. He had, however, promised Dumbledore that he wouldn't discuss the situation without permission. He mulled possibilities for a moment, but before he had a chance to decide what to do, Hermione caught his attention, reminding him that they had to get to class.
Despite finding out he'd not done as poorly as he'd feared on last week's Transfiguration test, Harry had a difficult class. He absorbed almost nothing during the theory lesson and lost quite a few points in his distraction. I just hope I'll be able to borrow Hermione's notes before Wednesday's practical; I won't have much of a chance otherwise, he thought as he headed to the headmaster's office with an unusual sense of trepidation - his training sessions were generally interesting and not something he avoided.
Since Harry would be graduating at the end of the school year and leaving the relative safety of Hogwarts, a number of hours each week were dedicated to learning the skills he would need to defeat and defend against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Because of the importance of the training and the amount of time and effort Harry would be required to devote to it, Remus and, somewhat surprisingly, Snape persuaded Dumbledore to convince the Ministry to grant Harry a course credit in Defence. Even those who were unaware of Trelawney's prophesy and Harry's significance in it admitted that the Boy Who Lived was a favourite target of You Know Who, and it would be in Harry's best interest to be prepared, so Dumbledore had agreed.
The task was made easier by the improved relations between the Order of the Phoenix and the current Ministry. As Minister for Magic, Amelia Bones was neither as blind nor as self-aggrandizing as Fudge had been, and if not a member of the Order herself, she was at least a tentative ally. She agreed to give Harry a Career Advancement Training Subject credit retroactively; to be listed as a course during term, it would have to be open to other students, which they didn't want to do. In the meantime, nothing was stated directly, but it was generally assumed by the incredibly naive that Harry was serving an internship with the headmaster.
Career Advancement Training Subjects were highly specialized courses offered by the Ministry; a select few were offered each year at Hogwarts, primarily for those students who knew what they intended to do after graduation and wanted to get a head-start professionally. Very few students opted to take even one, especially while preparing for NEWTS, since they were so time-consuming, advanced, and limited in application; indeed, in all of the classes there was a combined total of only fifteen seventh-years.
Seamus and Ron both opted to take Introduction to Wizarding Law. Seamus registered because he intended to sit on the Wizengamot one day; Ron was attempting to placate his mother, who was disappointed that he was attempting so few NEWTS and didn't approve of 'possible professional quidditch keeper' as a career choice. He thought it would be useful if he eventually went to work for the Ministry, and he was enjoying it, much to his surprise.
In Gryffindor tower, there was a rumour that Hermione's schedule was set first and then the other course sections were added afterwards to lessen the chance of course conflicts. Harry didn't doubt it. He was reasonably certain she was not using a time-turner, but her schedule was incredibly demanding. She hadn't decided what she intended to do after graduation, but she refused to let that prevent her from additional information: she was one of only three students who had registered for two CATSubjects, and that was in addition to her nine NEWTS. She was taking The Language and Art of Spellcrafting - "the creation of spells is terribly fascinating, really" - and Healing - "because you won't stop playing Quidditch or fighting Voldemort, and I feel it's only fair to Madam Pomfrey." Harry wanted to take offence at that but, on reflection, decided he really couldn't.
Harry's own program consisted of at least three sessions per week: one with Dumbledore, one with Snape, and one with any Order members who were available. He was learning a variety of skills - including strategy and tactics, Occlumency and Legilimency, offensive and defensive duelling - which would help him fight Voldemort. They would also allow him to be exempted from nearly a year of Auror training.
This meant his schedule was even busier than he'd expected, particularly since in addition to his five NEWT courses, he was unofficially the fourth student taking a second CATSubject.
Harry's second subject - and, rather ironically, the one he could admit to publicly - was in the Theory of the Dark Arts. Dumbledore had offered many bribes when trying to persuade Snape to resume Harry's Occlumency lessons, but Snape had accepted none of them. After his conversation with Remus, however, the Potions master agreed on the condition that he be allowed to teach the course. Dumbledore and then the Ministry had eventually capitulated, though they had insisted on additional restrictions on the students' enrollment. Students considering the course were required to submit applications explaining why they were requesting admittance and even then could not be accepted without approval from both the teacher and the headmaster. The course was challenging and, considering it was mostly theoretical and who was teaching it, surprisingly fun.
Today, however, was going to be much more difficult than a debate on the significance of conscience and intent on the spell energy generated in a casting. Dumbledore's Monday sessions were usually reserved for theory or strategy and were held in the headmaster's office, which meant there wouldn't be duels or 'wand-waving' to act as distractions, and Harry was not ready for an intense conversation.
He entered the office and found Dumbledore alone, which relieved him. Harry had feared that Snape - and possibly even Malfoy, though the Slytherin had Charms this period - would be there demanding an answer Harry wasn't prepared to give.
"Good morning, Harry. Please sit down." The headmaster waved toward the area at the back of the office where they usually held his lessons.
Much to Harry's surprise, they spent a productive and relatively pleasant morning avoiding the subject that dominated both their thoughts. In fact, Dumbledore waited until nearly lunch before broaching the topic. He sat back in his chair, watching as Harry collected his notes and said, so quietly that Harry almost missed it, "I assume you have not yet reached a decision on the matter we discussed on Saturday."
Harry stilled and did his best not to squirm in his seat. "No, sir."
"Time is of the essence, and there are arrangements to be made in either event, so I must ask that once you have made a decision that you inform me immediately, regardless of what that decision is." Dumbledore's gaze was piercing over his glasses and made Harry very uncomfortable.
"I'm... still thinking about it."
"A definite maybe, then."
Harry smiled half-heartedly and grabbed his bag hoping that would be the end of the discussion - their session was almost over - but the older man continued. "No doubt you have questions." He walked toward his desk, and Harry saw his chance at escape vanishing.
"Yes, but - " Harry stopped when he recognized the paper in Dumbledore's hand.
"This may be of use." He handed Harry two sheets, one of them the restricted section pass. "I have not always been as forthcoming as I could have been with you, my boy. There were always valid reasons at the time, and I stand by many of my choices, but in the process I have damaged your trust. That grieves me a great deal." The headmaster paused a moment, and Harry thought he was expected to say something, though he didn't know what. The seventh-year Gryffindor was not the same sullen youth he had been two years ago, but he still chaffed at the expectation that he should tell everything yet only receive vague hints of real information - and the inevitable scoldings - in exchange.
Eventually, his professor continued: "This is a lifelong commitment and is not something to be undertaken lightly or in ignorance. I have included a list of texts which should prove informative, but the pass itself is unlimited, and I ask that you not abuse the privilege." Harry glanced at the second sheet and recognized the titles of a number of the texts from his research the day before.
"Should you have questions or aspects you wish to discuss, I am available to you, of course, but I know I am not unbiased in this matter. Clearly, anything I tell you would be suspect for that reason alone." Harry nodded, grateful that the headmaster was both aware of that and able to admit it.
They spent the next few minutes discussing the relative merits of several books on the list. When they were finished, Dumbledore had one more question: "Is there anything else you would care to discuss?"
Harry hesitated a moment but still couldn't find a way to phrase his request without the other man reaching the obvious conclusion. "Actually, I was hoping Remus could visit," Harry said, meeting the headmaster's gaze evenly. It's not like he wouldn't have found out eventually.
"Of course. In this instance he is certainly the most impartial of your traditional advisers, and the need for secrecy does limit your resources. You may discuss the situation with him, provided you are in a secure location." They stood then, to join everyone in the Great Hall for lunch, but as they reached the door, the headmaster paused. "If you are intending to request that he perform the Mentoring bond with you, I will caution you against mentioning the Fidelitās Dominō ritual to Remus until after that conversation. The bond responds to the emotional needs of the participants, and a doubting of true commitment on the part of either participant could forge a lesser level of bond."
Harry's expression must have reflected the dismay he felt because his professor elaborated with a troubled look, "It is not Remus's love for you that would be in doubt, Harry: it's your faith in it." As Harry tried to process that, the older man continued, "The moon will pass the first quarter this weekend, and the second phase will begin its cycle. The bond will have to be accepted then, and there are calculations and plans to be made beforehand. Perhaps a deadline of Thursday?"
Harry was ushered through the door before he had a chance to respond.
"I do hope we have treacle tart for dessert, don't you?"
Dear Remus,
Wednesday's fine, and I've just
spoken with the headmaster, and
it's an official invitation.
Thanks,
Harry
P.S. Sorry this is so short.
Without the headmaster's report, Potter's unusually intense concentration as he prepared the day's potion with Granger and his refusal to acknowledge or even look at anyone else would have been terrifying; with it, his actions were merely disheartening. The only consolation was that the Gryffindor was putting more thought into the situation than he did into the majority of his capers. He'd spent part of Sunday in the library, and the headmaster had given him a pass to the restricted section, though without the Granger girl's guidance, it was doubtful how efficient his search would be.
A quick conversation with Draco before the seventh year Potions class had alleviated another concern - his godson's wandwork in Charms had not been perfectly executed or up to his usual strength, but it was not noticeably weaker than it had been on Saturday. Snape assumed that the suspension of his magical deterioration was primarily due to Draco's confidence that Potter would soon agree to the bonding. Coupled with Snape's invitation to perform the adoption and Tonks' agreement to act as Standfast, Draco's future was not as bleak as it had appeared two days ago.
When Draco arrived for their lab that evening, Severus had him run through a series of spells and confirmed that the deterioration had slowed significantly, though he knew it would not be long before a continued lack of commitment on Potter's part would reactivate it.
Potter appeared to have made his decision regarding the adoption ritual, pleasing the headmaster with his choice, and Albus was confident that Harry's apprehension would last only until he spoke with Remus Lupin. The likeliest candidates for Potter to approach about the adoption had been Lupin or the Weasleys; for the most part, Snape agreed with Dumbledore's preference for Lupin. In addition to being far less emotional about Harry's role in the war, he was less likely to forget that Harry had not always been his child, that he had been forced by circumstance to grow up quickly, and that he was, in fact, seventeen.
Severus would be father to Potter's bonded - it was still a strange concept, as he'd barely managed to be a tolerable son and certainly never expected to live long enough to have a child of his own. Watching Draco deftly chop, measure, and stir ingredients, he remembered the first years after the defeat of the Dark Lord, when Lucius had been far too concerned with the rebuilding of his standing at the Ministry to remember that he had a family. Severus had spent many hours at the Manor with his godson, and Draco's interest in potions developed early. Even as a small child he enjoyed watching as Severus prepared them and assisting once he was old enough. It was several years before Lucius realized that Severus held more influence with the Malfoy heir than he did and began to spend more time with his son.
Lucius eventually asked that Severus refrain from visiting unless specifically invited, and Severus knew even then that few invitations would materialize. It left him with a vague sense of relief that he wouldn't have to watch Draco light up at attention from the man who'd ignored him for years or see him scramble out of the lab at the sight of a broomstick. It also left him with a very clear, very strong sense of sorrow.
It was Lucius' right as Draco's father to limit influences on his child as he chose, to raise him as he saw fit, but Severus wondered with malicious satisfaction how long it would take Lucius to realize that he himself and his own actions were responsible for turning Draco from his Malfoy heritage.
Severus had gone from surrogate father to casual family friend, then became head of house, professor, and professional mentor. The bonding would be a regression of sorts and a challenge, as he returned to father, particularly since as teacher and head of house his primary responsibilities were disciplinary, without the familiarity and comfort that belonged in a family. The introduction of the Gryffindors and the complicated relationships they had with both Slytherins would only make the transition more difficult.
For a minimum of three years but likely for the rest of his life, he would have significant dealings with both Harry Potter and whomever he chose as his guardian: for Draco's sake and his own, he would much prefer Lupin.
Introducing Draco into any existing relationship with the Weasleys would be difficult. With very few exceptions given the size of the clan, the family was indivisible, and any connection to one member would necessitate contact with them all. A congenial or even neutral relationship between Draco and the youngest Weasley boy would be difficult enough with just the friendship between Ronald and Harry to consider. Inserting Draco into another Weasley familial relationship would create a territorial battle that would not in any way benefit the Fidelitās Dominō bonding. Snape wasn't certain as to the source of the antagonism - simply being 'Malfoy' and 'Weasley' would have sufficed, but the interactions between Draco and the rest of the family were not as volatile. He was willing to wager, however, that Harry Potter played a large part in whatever it was.
Molly and Arthur defended Snape to their children and admirably so, considering he had taught Potions to all seven of their Gryffindor offspring with less than glowing reviews from either side. The only two who showed any aptitude at all for the subject had been far more interested in using class time for pranks than learning. Despite the public support of the elder Weasleys, however, they were uncomfortable with the Darkness he carried in both magic and spirit. Knowing what they did, what he had to do as a Death Eater, that he'd done it willingly for a time, that he could conceal his treachery so efficiently from the Dark Lord - it made them nervous, and understandably so. The Weasleys kept as far from Dark magics as possible, and none of them knew what it was to carry Darkness within oneself. Remus Lupin, for all his faults, did.
Lupin had to battle his own Darkness on a monthly basis. It was less of a struggle when he had regular access to the Wolfsbane Potion, but any attempt at a variation which would allow a painless physical transformation had thus far been unsuccessful, and the emotional and social challenges of his condition would never fully be eradicated. Remus was insightful enough to recognize the similarities between his life as a werewolf and a boy trying to become a man while fighting the Darkness surrounding him.
Knowing that Harry intended to ask Lupin to be part of the bonding would have additional benefits. Astronomy charts and arithmancy tables were necessary to balance the ritual and needed to be calculated beforehand. Advance knowledge would allow sufficient time to adapt them appropriately, since significant accommodations would have to be made if one of the participants was subject to a lunar-based condition. Lupin would not have the strength necessary to participate in aspects of the Fidelitās Dominō bonding during the full phase of the moon unless he was transformed, and the werewolf form was not conducive to practising magic.
Severus was forced to abandon his contemplations as Draco caught his attention. The burn salve they would be brewing was extremely volatile while it was being assembled and required concentration.
Once the potion was ready to simmer, Snape graded the seventh years' afternoon work while Draco, attempting some form of active participation in his own life, began to do some of the preliminary arithmantic calculations. Each was checking the colour and consistency regularly and stirring infrequently. It needed to do nothing but simmer for several hours, but if any of the three cauldrons experienced the slightest change in colour or texture, the results could be disastrous.
They worked on their respective tasks in silence for nearly an hour before Draco broke the silence.
"My father and the Dark Lord will assume, for a short while at least, that any inconsistencies in my magic levels or control will be part of my adjustment to my new... position. It's no secret that I expected to be a leader, not a pet."
The tone Draco used to speak of the 'honour' being bestowed upon him by the Dark Lord would have been enough to convince Snape that the young man would have no chance of returning to Voldemort's presence, let alone his service. Fortunately, the lab was well warded against sound and visitors, so Severus made a noncommital sound and let him continue. Draco had no other audience for his concerns and was too likely to erupt in the most public and damaging manner if he wasn't able to express them. His apprentice returned to his own thoughts for several minutes, however, and Severus had almost decided that he'd chosen not to take advantage of the opportunity when he spoke again.
"I hate the uncertainty, really, really hate it, but I'm not ready to hear him say 'no.' This is the only option where I have any chance at all."
"Draco-"
"Uncle Severus," he interrupted, looking up for the first time, "please. You know as well as I do that I can't return to his service. Even if you weren't killed for this betrayal, Aunt Bella would use it to try to convince the Dark Lord that you are the traitor in his ranks. You know she would. She's been trying to for years. And she'd succeed this time. It looks too suspicious; he'd have to make an example of you. Then we'd both be dead."
Neither of them spoke again for the remainder of the evening.
With some patient questioning and sly innuendo at breakfast the next morning, Severus managed to establish that Minerva had a theoretical lesson planned for the Slytherin's first period Transfiguration class. Since Draco's other course of the morning was History of Magic, he would not have to expend copious amounts of energy worrying that he would be summoned to the hospital wing on Draco's behalf. Instead, he spent the first period of the day terrorizing the first year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class, a rather unsatisfying use of his time since they were a notoriously timid group to begin with.
Already feeling irritable, Snape sat at his desk and waited for the knock on his office door. His wards had informed him that Harry Potter had arrived for his Occlumency lesson and was standing outside. Nearly five minutes later, he still hadn't knocked. At one time he would have revelled in Potter's nervousness; today, it was maddening.
When they resumed their lessons a year and a half ago, they knew that working together would be difficult. They considered third-party mediation but gave up the idea when they couldn't agree on a sufficiently neutral party for the task. Instead, they each drank calming draughts for their first several meetings and on more than one occasion resorted to a timed silencing spell to guarantee that they each had equal and uninterrupted speaking time. It had been the only means of communicating effectively after so many years of baiting and antagonism.
Once they established that Harry was working almost entirely on instinct, Severus set a series of painstakingly detailed lessons. Potter would no doubt have objected vociferously to them, but after his complaints the previous year that Snape wasn't teaching and the boy's role in the death of his godfather, Harry was resigned and determined to learn, regardless of the unpleasantness.
It was largely chance that another consequence of their prior working relationship had eventually revealed itself: it had taken them a ridiculously long time, but they finally recognized the difficulties Harry was having absorbing the emotions released after he dropped his mental shields. Since most often the residual emotions were anger and frustration and those seemed to be a natural consequence of working together, both Harry and Severus were, in fact, grateful that they had managed to hold themselves together for hours rather than minutes. The actual source of the emotions having been identified, both their working relationship and Harry's abilities seemed to be improving, and with more practice and effort, their lessons had evolved again into a careful truce.
Lately, the boy's mood after releasing his shields tended to be melancholy or sullen - still negative emotions but passive ones and generally easier to throw off. It was a source of great frustration for Snape that he couldn't identify the reason for the change; he was unable to explain what was working or why and had absolutely no idea what prompted the fit of giggles Potter reported after a session practising in his dorm. He was careful to share his frustration with his student in an academic sense rather than an aggressive one, however, and their sessions this term had been productive, informative, and exhausting but ultimately satisfying. Having Harry revert to his past behaviour patterns was aggravating. When the knock finally sounded, Severus responded with a terse bark.
"Enter."
The professor and student stared at each other for several long minutes as Harry stood nervously in front of the desk. There was a strength, a defiance, in his expression, Snape recognized from the faces of the strongest of the Death Eaters' victims, the ones who held out the longest, who died before betraying their secrets or their honour. It was an expression which was too familiar on this child. This time, though it was accompanied by something else, something that might have been disappointment or possibly hurt.
"Have a seat."
Rather than waving Harry to the wooden chairs in front of the desk, designed to discourage lengthy discussion and to punish those forced to endure it, Severus gestured toward one of the comfortable sitting chairs in front of the fire. Coming around the desk to claim the other, the Head of Slytherin nearly smiled as the boy's jaw dropped. Even with their improved working relationship, they did not have cozy chats by the fire, and Harry hadn't regained his equilibrium by the time Severus was seated.
"Today, Potter." The instruction was not mild but certainly held less abrasion than usual.
It was enough to snap Harry out of his shock, and with a slight stumble, he took his seat.
"Tea?"
At Severus' quiet inquiry, a tea service appeared on the small table next to his chair, and Harry shook his head, either in response to the question or to clear it before responding hesitantly, "No, thank you."
Severus nodded absently and prepared his own tea slowly, using the time to collect his thoughts and evaluate the situation. A spy was required to react and adapt, and, as evidenced by the fact that he was not yet dead, Snape was quite good at it. What he wasn't accustomed to was having to use those skills in response to his own impulses.
He sipped his tea and watched the boy over the rim of his cup. Because there was no secret that the Dark Lord wanted into Potter's mind or that Harry was as determined to keep him out, their lessons had focussed on strength rather than discretion. As a result, Harry's shields were visible if one knew how to look for them: visible but thick and well-anchored. Severus knew of perhaps three wizards - none of them Voldemort - who would be able to get past them, even with the advantages of physical proximity. Unfortunately for Potter, one of them was in the room.
"Good," he remarked as he put his cup down.
Harry's uncertainty was evident as he looked from his professor to the tea cup. "Sir?"
Snape gave him a patronizing look, more to punish him for being obtuse and lacking in subtlety than out of any real spite.
"Your shielding - it's solid. You're well prepared for an attack." There was the slightest bit of a question layered in the praise.
"Well, you're -" Too late, Harry clamped his lips together.
Severus sipped his tea, then asked mildly, "I'm what?"
Harry shrugged, hoping the question would be dropped, but Snape watched silently as the silence became uncomfortable, and the boy continued, "I thought you'd try to break my barriers."
"Hmm. Why would you expect that?"
It could have been a fair question, as the typical pattern for their lessons lately had involved watching Harry build shields and lower them as they tried to discover the source of Harry's problem with dissipating the protections. It could have been, but it wasn't. Snape was toying with Harry, and they were both aware of it.
From his panicked expression, Severus assumed he'd begun raising his shields quite a while before and layered them for added strength. It was a successful tactic and would be even more so when he could control the reversion. At the moment, however, the greater the duration and power of his shields, the greater the probability of an emotional onslaught.
Harry's next comment made it clear he'd decided to suggest dropping them entirely as a diversion. "They should peel off; that's how I put them up. It might be easier to see what I'm doing wrong."
It was a nice attempt. He didn't lie and claim he'd done it intentionally, and he was careful to assume all the blame for his lack of success - not bad, for a Gryffindor.
"That's quite alright. I'm interested in seeing how well you can maintain those levels." His voice was carefully bland and remained so as he said, "I find it interesting you chose such strong fortifications; I'd think you had something to hide, if we hadn't moved past that months ago." Knowing full well that his original plan had been to 'attack' as Harry tended to term it and that he still would if this tack failed, the comment was calculated to yank the Gryffindor's tail. Judging from the way Potter shot straight up in his chair, it was successful.
"I thought we'd moved past manipulation."
Snape allowed himself a small smirk. "I promised Lupin I'd teach you Occlumency and try to remember that you are your own person, not that I'd impersonate a Hufflepuff." He watched the boy fight a response - a smile? - as he finished his tea and placed his cup on the table. "Why are your shields up, Harry?" The use of his given name was rare and deliberate.
"Because after the meeting in Dumbledore's office, I expected you to attack to find out about the Dursleys," Harry admitted reluctantly.
Severus nodded. "And you'd prefer to keep it hidden."
"Yes."
"You didn't think that perhaps your secrets could hinder you? That with that sort of information we could better understand your behaviour, predict your responses in battle," Snape let his voice get just a bit harder, "find a solution to your difficulties in dissipating?"
Harry looked as though he suspected Snape was fabricating reasons to justify his prying, but he didn't have facts with which to contradict.
"I will make you a deal, Mr. Potter."
Severus was gratified to see the nervousness in Harry's expression in response to the offer and amused to see it laced with curiosity.
"Tell me. Everything. And I won't attack - Today. Should I discover at a future time that you withheld significant details, you will not be able to hide anything." There was enough of a reaction to the threat that Snape was tempted to do it regardless, simply to see what had Harry so terrified.
"About the Dursleys." Defiantly.
"About your childhood, and you will answer any questions I have for clarification on the subject," Snape countered.
Harry agreed reluctantly and added, "Only for today." Since he was repeating a condition Snape had already set out, he nodded, granting it without argument. It was tempting to see if he could use the point to gain another concession, but he did need Harry to commit to the Fidelitās Dominō.
It is impossible to win if you are not willing to sacrifice a pawn to save the queen.
Severus took the next couple of moments to refill his tea cup and to pour a second which he passed to Harry. No further conditions were forthcoming, so he asked, "Are we agreed?"
Harry cautiously accepted both the tea and the terms, and Severus made one further demand.
"Remove your shields."
Harry's head shot up, and his voice was shrill, "What?"
"If you're not intending to lie, you have no need of them, and I will easily be able to gauge your honesty." Severus expected him to recognize that this point was not open for negotiation, and after a few moments of silent pleading, Harry nodded. He closed his eyes and took down his mental shields before speaking.
"After my parents died, Dumbledore left me with my mother's sister, Petunia, and her husband, Vernon. The Dursleys. They hate me." He opened his eyes, cold and hard. "It's mutual. They think I'm a freak - that all wizards are freaks - and they say so, often. I was left on the doorstep, with a letter. I assume it had some sort of threat, they wouldn't have kept me otherwise, and later - " He broke off and tilted his head as if he were listening to something; a moment later he shook his head to clear it and in response to Snape's impatient look added, "The Dursleys' greatest ambition is to be exactly the same as everyone else - just a little bit better, but exactly the same. And magic is different - I was different, so I didn't belong."
"The first question I can ever remember asking my aunt was how I got my scar." He brought his hand to his head almost unconsciously and rubbed angrily at the mark. "She told me it was from the car crash that killed my parents." Severus absorbed that, and Harry continued bitterly, "And then she told me not to ask questions. And she meant it. My aunt and uncle liked it best when they could pretend I didn't exist and ignore me as much as possible." His eyes dropped to his hands, now in his lap, and he picked forcefully at his sleeve.
"I had to wear my cousin's old clothes - which looked ridiculous as he's the size of a beached whale, and I was nearly always the smallest in the class. I got glasses only when the school nurse insisted, and Dudley and his friends broke them in the first week, and I had to Sellotape them together. When asked, my aunt said I needed a lesson in caring for my belongings - as if Dudley didn't have an entire second bedroom for his broken toys!"
Severus briefly considered giving Harry a calming potion to counter the added vulnerability of the dropped shields. He wanted to know the truth about how Harry felt about his Muggle relatives and how he was treated there, and it was clear even after a few moments that resentment and bitterness were going to be prevalent in the telling. The details of the story would be the same regardless, and if Harry became too emotional to continue his narration, he would not be willing to resume it later.
On several occasions he'd overheard various Order members speculating about why Harry never spoke about his family, his childhood. In recent years, there had been less speculation but still few details. But one of Dumbledore's favourite topics of admonition over late-night tea was the need for human beings to share, and Snape suspected that even Harry's closest friends hadn't been told everything, so he decided not to deny Potter whatever the dubious benefits of sharing were.
"Was she aware that your cousin was responsible for the damage? Did you have a history of carelessness with your belongings?" Though the questions were as objective as he could make them, Harry's reply was indignant at the implications.
"I didn't have belongings to break, and even if I had, Dudley would have found a way to take them. Besides, they wouldn't have fit into my cupboard - there was barely room for me."
"Cupboard?"
"I slept in the cupboard under the stairs until I was almost eleven." There was challenge in his voice and in his expression, suggesting his resentment wasn't confined entirely to the Muggles. "My Hogwarts letter came addressed to 'Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs'; after that, they got scared and put me in Dudley's second bedroom."
"You lived in a three bedroom house and slept under the stairs until you were eleven," he repeated.
It wasn't really a question, but Harry answered with an earnest and cheery helpfulness that was patently false. "Four bedroom. There was a guest room for when Aunt Marge came to visit."
Severus made a mental note to speak with Minerva at the first available opportunity and prompted Harry to continue. "You mentioned the school nurse. Did she - your teacher, your friends' parents, whoever - did they not object?"
"I didn't have friends; Dudley's gang beat up anyone who spoke to me. And even if I had said anything, the adults wouldn't have believed me. No one ever believed me."
Snape found that difficult to believe since he was usually the only one who doubted Harry's explanations. "I did accidental magic all the time," Harry continued defensively, "I didn't know how I ended up on the roof or how the glass broke! I couldn't give anyone a satisfactory answer - I didn't know I was a wizard or about magic at all until Hagrid came!"
Severus sat back in his chair. He knew that Harry had been raised by Muggles, obviously. It was one of Albus's pet conceits that Harry should grow up without the fame and drama of being 'Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived' - but to be unaware of magic!
The Snapes may not have been the most prestigious or wealthy of the pure-blood families in the wizarding world, but both his mother and step-father were of bloodlines that rivalled the Malfoys, and Severus was stunned that Harry, a Potter, should be raised without knowledge of his heritage.
The pride of that family in their magical ability and history... If James Potter's grandmother - a woman who made Augusta Longbottom look timid - had lived to know of it, she would have minced Dumbledore into pieces so small that nifflers wouldn't have been able to find them.
"Until Hagrid? I thought you were sent an acceptance letter."
"I was. Lots," he said with a twisted grimace. "I just wasn't allowed to open them. Uncle Vernon even took us away, so the post couldn't find us. Hagrid finally delivered the letter personally and brought me to Diagon Alley.
"Things got better after that - well, worse first, then better, but I always knew I had somewhere to go where I wasn't a freak." He thought about that for a moment then corrected ruefully, "At least, not that kind of freak."
"Worse?" Severus prompted, ignoring a pang of guilt that he couldn't let Harry turn to more pleasant topics.
"When I got back for summer vacation, Hedwig was padlocked in her cage so I couldn't send letters, and my schoolbooks were locked under the stairs - which made it a little difficult to do my summer assignments." Potter was evidently still bitter about that month of detentions as well. "Aside from that, it wasn't too bad until the Dursleys found out I wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school. Then they locked me in my room for the rest of the holidays."
Something in his distaste at the admission made Severus ask, "Literally?"
"Yeah. Bars on the windows and everything. They put a cat-flap on the door, and three times a day they pushed some food through it, not a lot but some." Severus deduced from the neutral tone that Harry was recovering from his emotional overload and that the portions Harry received could be termed generous only if compared to the servings given to the Death Eaters' prisoners. "Ron and the twins were worried that I hadn't answered their letters and finally came and broke me out. That was the first time I got to visit The Burrow." For the first time since entering the office, Harry smiled without mockery.
"Were Molly and Arthur told?" Snape was careful to keep his tone neutral as well. Very careful.
"Yes," he said, though his tone suggested he was hiding something.
"You're telling me that Molly Weasley was aware that a child was being abused, and she did nothing?" Having received howlers for the slightest of reprimands, the Potions professor found that unlikely.
"I'm not sure she actually believed us. Ron and the twins hadn't asked permission to leave and get me, exactly."
"She thought it was an exaggeration to get out of punishment," he stated bluntly.
"I reckon so."
"And you didn't mention it to her later?"
Harry shook his head. "I like the Burrow, they like me, there's no Boy Who Lived nonsense. I didn't want to talk about the Dursleys. I never want to talk about the Dursleys." He directed a pointed look at his professor.
Snape ignored it. "And afterwards?"
"The twins taught Ron and me to pick locks the Muggle way, so the summer before third year wasn't bad at all, except for accidentally blowing up Aunt Marge when I lost my temper. The next year, I told them about my godfather who was arrested for murder and escaped from prison. Things were much better then, except for Dudley's diet, but my friends sent me food. The Dursleys wanted me there even less than I wanted to be there, and I never told them Sirius was innocent or about... the Department of Mysteries, so they left me alone."
"Severe emotional abuse and physical neglect, that was the extent of it?" Severus tried to keep his tone even, not belittling or accusatory, but wasn't able to tell from the boy's expression how well he succeeded.
"Aunt Petunia would sometimes swat at me with the nearest object, a frying pan or whatever, but she'd usually let me get away if I dodged. Uncle Vernon would shake me or yank my arm if I wasn't moving fast enough. Dudley was the worst, really, him and his friends, but they had to catch me first."
Severus really didn't want to ask the next question but needed to know if that was the entirety of what he'd been hiding. "There was no... other... inappropriate..." Discomfited to hear himself stammer, he felt a profound sense of relief when he was interrupted.
"No," Harry answered. "Vernon's incredibly homophobic."
Snape raised an ironic eyebrow, and Harry continued, "Besides, the scandal of being caught would be huge, and that alone would have stopped him. He'd have been notorious. They were careful, really; anything that would have left bruises could have been explained as some sort of punishment that got out of hand."
Snape knew the next wasn't a question but a confirmation of fact, but he asked it regardless, "And the headmaster was aware of your situation?"
"Yeah." Snape thought the boy intended to leave it at that, but he continued, "He knew when he left me there he was condemning me to 'ten dark and difficult years.' Direct quote, that. He believed my mother's blood sacrifice was the only thing that could keep me safe, and he wouldn't let me leave if things were less than life threatening.
"I know the headmaster wanted me to stay with them even longer, but...," he shook his head helplessly, "I couldn't. Besides, the Dursleys were there when I got the letter from the Ministry congratulating me on my 'Coming of Age.' Uncle Vernon didn't want me performing magic in their home, and," his voice hardened, sounding more like Alastor Moody than any seventeen year old boy should, "I refused to surrender my wand."
Snape nodded, knowing that he, too, would have refused.
All things considered, Severus would have preferred to take lunch in his own rooms and process what he'd learned in solitude.
As Head of Slytherin, however, he was responsible for the students in his House: too many of them had been raised to be dismissive of Dumbledore and his authority, and they quickly taught the others. This late in the term, if Snape wanted his house to behave for the only other Slytherin Professor on staff - assuming the Astronomy professor was both conscious this early in the day and present for the meal - he needed to be in the hospital wing or give them advance notice and dire consequences. That not being possible, he was in the Great Hall watching Malfoy and Potter look anywhere but at each other and try to convince their respective friends that food had been consumed.
The Occlumency session had been remarkably successful, far more so than Snape would have predicted. Harry had left somewhat resentful, but they had not succumbed to the anger and frustration that had characterized their conflicts in the past.
Snape understood, finally, why Dumbledore continued to arrange matters so Harry and Severus were forced to spend significant amounts of time together, despite the anger and hatred, the danger should the Dark Lord discover the extent of it. In addition to Snape's connection, however tenuous, to James and Lily, Harry's background was closer to Severus's than either of them would be comfortable admitting. He, too, had been the child who didn't belong - rather than too magical, he had been too bookish, too ugly, or too Dark, but he was still shunted aside for talents he did not choose to possess.
Where Severus's own years at Hogwarts had been hellish, tormented as he was by James Potter and the Mauraders, the school had been instead a haven for Harry, where he was protected from his relatives and his cousin's gang.
Severus thought about the boy's childhood, his relatives, and his years at school, and he realized how very lucky the headmaster was that Harry had not become a Dark wizard himself.
Between Harry's upbringing with the Muggles and the pressure he faced, both from the Wizarding world in general and Albus in particular, it would not have been surprising if the boy had decided to abandon Dumbledore's cause entirely. Severus doubted that he would join Voldemort - the losses Potter had suffered at his hand were too bitter for that - but the child was repudiated so often by strangers and friends alike that he could decide at any time to become the next Dark Lord.
How... propitious the boy was such a Gryffindor.
Severus knew Draco Malfoy had been given orders to befriend the boy, and if Lucius hadn't raised him to be such an arrogant swot, he would have been Harry Potter's first friend.
He'd only heard Draco's account of their meeting on the train, but he now knew enough about Harry's childhood to understand where his godson had erred.
If he had been successful, it would have created a connection between The Boy Who Lived and Draco - and Slytherin - that could have proved impervious to censure. Potter was a model Hufflepuff in his unfailing loyalty: witness his friendship with the Weasley boy. Clearly, no status or connections would be gained from the relationship, Ronald was not gifted with remarkable talents or skills of note, and a great deal of effort was required on Harry's part to overcome the redhead's temper and jealousy: in Slytherin, the alliance would have been very short lived.
In many ways it was a shame Draco hadn't been able to befriend Potter; the two of them certainly had much more in common with each other than they did with any of their current associates; being of similar financial and social backgrounds and leaders in their houses, they were each gifted with higher than average intelligence and ability when they cared to make use of their talents. Even in Quidditch, about which all the boys were passionate, it was Draco who was the fellow Seeker.
A close friendship with the Malfoy heir would have benefited Potter as he trained to become the warrior and politician he needed to be - once the bonding was complete and able to sustain outside influences, Severus would have to remember to suggest Potter make use of Draco's experience in that - and if Potter was going to make his course choices based on those of his best friend, his apparent strategy until this year, Draco's options would have been of more use to a future Auror.
Slytherin, of course, would have benefited from the dispelling of the rumour that it was the 'Evil House.'
Snape suspected he'd discovered the reasoning behind the encouraging of the resentment between the boys and their Houses.
Inter-House friendships, while less common than inner-House ones, were not unheard of, particularly in forms other than that of the current seventh-years, and with the exception of certain instances, he did not recall the favouritism being as blatant in the years before Harry Potter and his year-mates arrived at the school. Other students, certainly, were not gifted with invisibility cloaks nor were the points for the House Cup altered at whim during the leaving feast.
In recent years, the only occasions wherein the infractions of the Slytherins were overlooked was on the Quidditch pitch, where Slytherins were perceived as being unsportsmanlike when they took advantage of the only opportunity they had available to them to make up significant points. Snape knew that he himself had gone beyond any reasonable expectations of favouritism that the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters would have had, yet Dumbledore had not spoken to him on the subject even once without McGonagall present and demanding it.
In each instance, Slytherin was set in opposition to Gryffindor, the House of Dark versus the House of Light.
Given Potter's surprisingly insightful comments in CATS: Dark Arts, how much of the rift was caused by Dumbledore's fear that, like Tom Riddle fifty years before, Harry would dabble or even succumb to the lure of Dark magics?
How many of the feuds between Houses were incited in similar ways, for similar reasons?
Snape decided the meal was sufficiently close to complete that he could glare meaningfully at his known miscreants and depart the hall. He needed to find a task to occupy his mind before he was forced to examine too closely the history of his relationship with Sirius Black.
Next Chapter
Previous Chapter
I'm very sorry for the delay in posting this, but you'll be happy to hear that when things weren't going well, I procrastinated by working on the next chapter. I can (almost) guarantee the wait will be much shorter for it.
All rights to the world of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and a number of very large corporations, none of which is me, and I do not intend to make any money whatsoever from this endeavour.
Particular thanks must be given to my lovely Betas Tithenai and, particularly, Phoenix Writing who have helped make this a much better story in both style and content. Any mistakes which remain are, indubitably, my own, particularly since neither has seen the chapter in its entirety.
Additional notes are available before the prologue.
Constructive criticism is always very much appreciated.
Originally posted 05 July '06; edited version posted 18 May '07
Thicker than Water
Harry suspected that even if he did get really fed up with being the 'Saviour of the Wizarding World' and decided to just quit it all, he wouldn't last very long; simply having done something about Malfoy's situation allowed Harry a much more restful sleep than he'd had the night before. As a result, waking up Monday morning was only as difficult as usual, and if his housemates found him a bit quieter than normal at breakfast, well, he was facing an entire afternoon of Potions. That would not be enough to mollify Ron and Hermione, but in response to some less than subtle questioning while studying yesterday afternoon, Harry had finally told his friends - and it wasn't a lie exactly - that Dumbledore had wanted to discuss scheduling plans for the holidays, confirming that Remus would be assisting if he could but also that there would be additional sessions with Snape.
The professors unintentionally gave credence to Harry's excuse, Dumbledore with his worried glances and Snape with his displeased sneer. Malfoy wasn't a concern, since he sat facing away from the Gryffindor table, spoke with almost no one, and stayed for the shortest amount of time possible. Harry was especially grateful for that, since he had no idea how he was supposed to act around the boy whose fate he was deciding.
Harry looked up eagerly when he heard the arrival of the owl post, only partly because he was hopeful that Remus would reply this morning. He'd always looked forward to the morning mail, even during the years when he'd never expected to get letters at all. More than anything else, the arrival of the post made the wizarding world feel real. From the acceptance letters, to Hedwig, to that first morning at breakfast as a Gryffindor, so much of his experience, so much of Hogwarts, began with the post.
The birds were beautiful as they entered, in such a variety of colours and sizes. He watched as the owls circled, looking for the recipients of their letters and parcels and for places to land. With a soft smile born of pleasure and nostalgia, Harry noticed his own beautiful snowy owl headed towards the Gryffindor table. He took a moment before reading the note she carried to give her a rasher of bacon and thank her for her prompt return.
Post for Harry was no longer the rare occurrence it had once been, and his best friends were sufficiently distracted by their own deliveries - the Daily Prophet for Hermione, and a letter from the twins for Ron - that they smiled when they saw his letter and, thankfully, ignored him.
The letter was typically Remus - a chatty update of the household and business, punctuated by witty commentary which was just the slightest bit wry. He wrote at least a short bit nearly every day, rather like one would a journal, and mailed the lot once or twice a week. Today, however, Harry was most interested in the part which would have been added last night after Hedwig arrived, so he turned immediately to the last page:
... anytime, Harry, you know that. I'm
available indefinitely as of Wednesday,
but if you'd like to meet earlier, I can
reschedule things a bit. Since you've
just had your last Hogsmeade day, is
this an official invitation, or would you
prefer to run into each other while I
visit old haunts?
Let me know when and where.
Take care,
Remus
Harry hadn't thought about the logistics of meeting when he'd sent the letter last night, and he wasn't sure he wanted the headmaster to know about Remus's visit. He had, however, promised Dumbledore that he wouldn't discuss the situation without permission. He mulled possibilities for a moment, but before he had a chance to decide what to do, Hermione caught his attention, reminding him that they had to get to class.
Despite finding out he'd not done as poorly as he'd feared on last week's Transfiguration test, Harry had a difficult class. He absorbed almost nothing during the theory lesson and lost quite a few points in his distraction. I just hope I'll be able to borrow Hermione's notes before Wednesday's practical; I won't have much of a chance otherwise, he thought as he headed to the headmaster's office with an unusual sense of trepidation - his training sessions were generally interesting and not something he avoided.
Since Harry would be graduating at the end of the school year and leaving the relative safety of Hogwarts, a number of hours each week were dedicated to learning the skills he would need to defeat and defend against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Because of the importance of the training and the amount of time and effort Harry would be required to devote to it, Remus and, somewhat surprisingly, Snape persuaded Dumbledore to convince the Ministry to grant Harry a course credit in Defence. Even those who were unaware of Trelawney's prophesy and Harry's significance in it admitted that the Boy Who Lived was a favourite target of You Know Who, and it would be in Harry's best interest to be prepared, so Dumbledore had agreed.
The task was made easier by the improved relations between the Order of the Phoenix and the current Ministry. As Minister for Magic, Amelia Bones was neither as blind nor as self-aggrandizing as Fudge had been, and if not a member of the Order herself, she was at least a tentative ally. She agreed to give Harry a Career Advancement Training Subject credit retroactively; to be listed as a course during term, it would have to be open to other students, which they didn't want to do. In the meantime, nothing was stated directly, but it was generally assumed by the incredibly naive that Harry was serving an internship with the headmaster.
Career Advancement Training Subjects were highly specialized courses offered by the Ministry; a select few were offered each year at Hogwarts, primarily for those students who knew what they intended to do after graduation and wanted to get a head-start professionally. Very few students opted to take even one, especially while preparing for NEWTS, since they were so time-consuming, advanced, and limited in application; indeed, in all of the classes there was a combined total of only fifteen seventh-years.
Seamus and Ron both opted to take Introduction to Wizarding Law. Seamus registered because he intended to sit on the Wizengamot one day; Ron was attempting to placate his mother, who was disappointed that he was attempting so few NEWTS and didn't approve of 'possible professional quidditch keeper' as a career choice. He thought it would be useful if he eventually went to work for the Ministry, and he was enjoying it, much to his surprise.
In Gryffindor tower, there was a rumour that Hermione's schedule was set first and then the other course sections were added afterwards to lessen the chance of course conflicts. Harry didn't doubt it. He was reasonably certain she was not using a time-turner, but her schedule was incredibly demanding. She hadn't decided what she intended to do after graduation, but she refused to let that prevent her from additional information: she was one of only three students who had registered for two CATSubjects, and that was in addition to her nine NEWTS. She was taking The Language and Art of Spellcrafting - "the creation of spells is terribly fascinating, really" - and Healing - "because you won't stop playing Quidditch or fighting Voldemort, and I feel it's only fair to Madam Pomfrey." Harry wanted to take offence at that but, on reflection, decided he really couldn't.
Harry's own program consisted of at least three sessions per week: one with Dumbledore, one with Snape, and one with any Order members who were available. He was learning a variety of skills - including strategy and tactics, Occlumency and Legilimency, offensive and defensive duelling - which would help him fight Voldemort. They would also allow him to be exempted from nearly a year of Auror training.
This meant his schedule was even busier than he'd expected, particularly since in addition to his five NEWT courses, he was unofficially the fourth student taking a second CATSubject.
Harry's second subject - and, rather ironically, the one he could admit to publicly - was in the Theory of the Dark Arts. Dumbledore had offered many bribes when trying to persuade Snape to resume Harry's Occlumency lessons, but Snape had accepted none of them. After his conversation with Remus, however, the Potions master agreed on the condition that he be allowed to teach the course. Dumbledore and then the Ministry had eventually capitulated, though they had insisted on additional restrictions on the students' enrollment. Students considering the course were required to submit applications explaining why they were requesting admittance and even then could not be accepted without approval from both the teacher and the headmaster. The course was challenging and, considering it was mostly theoretical and who was teaching it, surprisingly fun.
Today, however, was going to be much more difficult than a debate on the significance of conscience and intent on the spell energy generated in a casting. Dumbledore's Monday sessions were usually reserved for theory or strategy and were held in the headmaster's office, which meant there wouldn't be duels or 'wand-waving' to act as distractions, and Harry was not ready for an intense conversation.
He entered the office and found Dumbledore alone, which relieved him. Harry had feared that Snape - and possibly even Malfoy, though the Slytherin had Charms this period - would be there demanding an answer Harry wasn't prepared to give.
"Good morning, Harry. Please sit down." The headmaster waved toward the area at the back of the office where they usually held his lessons.
Much to Harry's surprise, they spent a productive and relatively pleasant morning avoiding the subject that dominated both their thoughts. In fact, Dumbledore waited until nearly lunch before broaching the topic. He sat back in his chair, watching as Harry collected his notes and said, so quietly that Harry almost missed it, "I assume you have not yet reached a decision on the matter we discussed on Saturday."
Harry stilled and did his best not to squirm in his seat. "No, sir."
"Time is of the essence, and there are arrangements to be made in either event, so I must ask that once you have made a decision that you inform me immediately, regardless of what that decision is." Dumbledore's gaze was piercing over his glasses and made Harry very uncomfortable.
"I'm... still thinking about it."
"A definite maybe, then."
Harry smiled half-heartedly and grabbed his bag hoping that would be the end of the discussion - their session was almost over - but the older man continued. "No doubt you have questions." He walked toward his desk, and Harry saw his chance at escape vanishing.
"Yes, but - " Harry stopped when he recognized the paper in Dumbledore's hand.
"This may be of use." He handed Harry two sheets, one of them the restricted section pass. "I have not always been as forthcoming as I could have been with you, my boy. There were always valid reasons at the time, and I stand by many of my choices, but in the process I have damaged your trust. That grieves me a great deal." The headmaster paused a moment, and Harry thought he was expected to say something, though he didn't know what. The seventh-year Gryffindor was not the same sullen youth he had been two years ago, but he still chaffed at the expectation that he should tell everything yet only receive vague hints of real information - and the inevitable scoldings - in exchange.
Eventually, his professor continued: "This is a lifelong commitment and is not something to be undertaken lightly or in ignorance. I have included a list of texts which should prove informative, but the pass itself is unlimited, and I ask that you not abuse the privilege." Harry glanced at the second sheet and recognized the titles of a number of the texts from his research the day before.
"Should you have questions or aspects you wish to discuss, I am available to you, of course, but I know I am not unbiased in this matter. Clearly, anything I tell you would be suspect for that reason alone." Harry nodded, grateful that the headmaster was both aware of that and able to admit it.
They spent the next few minutes discussing the relative merits of several books on the list. When they were finished, Dumbledore had one more question: "Is there anything else you would care to discuss?"
Harry hesitated a moment but still couldn't find a way to phrase his request without the other man reaching the obvious conclusion. "Actually, I was hoping Remus could visit," Harry said, meeting the headmaster's gaze evenly. It's not like he wouldn't have found out eventually.
"Of course. In this instance he is certainly the most impartial of your traditional advisers, and the need for secrecy does limit your resources. You may discuss the situation with him, provided you are in a secure location." They stood then, to join everyone in the Great Hall for lunch, but as they reached the door, the headmaster paused. "If you are intending to request that he perform the Mentoring bond with you, I will caution you against mentioning the Fidelitās Dominō ritual to Remus until after that conversation. The bond responds to the emotional needs of the participants, and a doubting of true commitment on the part of either participant could forge a lesser level of bond."
Harry's expression must have reflected the dismay he felt because his professor elaborated with a troubled look, "It is not Remus's love for you that would be in doubt, Harry: it's your faith in it." As Harry tried to process that, the older man continued, "The moon will pass the first quarter this weekend, and the second phase will begin its cycle. The bond will have to be accepted then, and there are calculations and plans to be made beforehand. Perhaps a deadline of Thursday?"
Harry was ushered through the door before he had a chance to respond.
"I do hope we have treacle tart for dessert, don't you?"
Dear Remus,
Wednesday's fine, and I've just
spoken with the headmaster, and
it's an official invitation.
Thanks,
Harry
P.S. Sorry this is so short.
Without the headmaster's report, Potter's unusually intense concentration as he prepared the day's potion with Granger and his refusal to acknowledge or even look at anyone else would have been terrifying; with it, his actions were merely disheartening. The only consolation was that the Gryffindor was putting more thought into the situation than he did into the majority of his capers. He'd spent part of Sunday in the library, and the headmaster had given him a pass to the restricted section, though without the Granger girl's guidance, it was doubtful how efficient his search would be.
A quick conversation with Draco before the seventh year Potions class had alleviated another concern - his godson's wandwork in Charms had not been perfectly executed or up to his usual strength, but it was not noticeably weaker than it had been on Saturday. Snape assumed that the suspension of his magical deterioration was primarily due to Draco's confidence that Potter would soon agree to the bonding. Coupled with Snape's invitation to perform the adoption and Tonks' agreement to act as Standfast, Draco's future was not as bleak as it had appeared two days ago.
When Draco arrived for their lab that evening, Severus had him run through a series of spells and confirmed that the deterioration had slowed significantly, though he knew it would not be long before a continued lack of commitment on Potter's part would reactivate it.
Potter appeared to have made his decision regarding the adoption ritual, pleasing the headmaster with his choice, and Albus was confident that Harry's apprehension would last only until he spoke with Remus Lupin. The likeliest candidates for Potter to approach about the adoption had been Lupin or the Weasleys; for the most part, Snape agreed with Dumbledore's preference for Lupin. In addition to being far less emotional about Harry's role in the war, he was less likely to forget that Harry had not always been his child, that he had been forced by circumstance to grow up quickly, and that he was, in fact, seventeen.
Severus would be father to Potter's bonded - it was still a strange concept, as he'd barely managed to be a tolerable son and certainly never expected to live long enough to have a child of his own. Watching Draco deftly chop, measure, and stir ingredients, he remembered the first years after the defeat of the Dark Lord, when Lucius had been far too concerned with the rebuilding of his standing at the Ministry to remember that he had a family. Severus had spent many hours at the Manor with his godson, and Draco's interest in potions developed early. Even as a small child he enjoyed watching as Severus prepared them and assisting once he was old enough. It was several years before Lucius realized that Severus held more influence with the Malfoy heir than he did and began to spend more time with his son.
Lucius eventually asked that Severus refrain from visiting unless specifically invited, and Severus knew even then that few invitations would materialize. It left him with a vague sense of relief that he wouldn't have to watch Draco light up at attention from the man who'd ignored him for years or see him scramble out of the lab at the sight of a broomstick. It also left him with a very clear, very strong sense of sorrow.
It was Lucius' right as Draco's father to limit influences on his child as he chose, to raise him as he saw fit, but Severus wondered with malicious satisfaction how long it would take Lucius to realize that he himself and his own actions were responsible for turning Draco from his Malfoy heritage.
Severus had gone from surrogate father to casual family friend, then became head of house, professor, and professional mentor. The bonding would be a regression of sorts and a challenge, as he returned to father, particularly since as teacher and head of house his primary responsibilities were disciplinary, without the familiarity and comfort that belonged in a family. The introduction of the Gryffindors and the complicated relationships they had with both Slytherins would only make the transition more difficult.
For a minimum of three years but likely for the rest of his life, he would have significant dealings with both Harry Potter and whomever he chose as his guardian: for Draco's sake and his own, he would much prefer Lupin.
Introducing Draco into any existing relationship with the Weasleys would be difficult. With very few exceptions given the size of the clan, the family was indivisible, and any connection to one member would necessitate contact with them all. A congenial or even neutral relationship between Draco and the youngest Weasley boy would be difficult enough with just the friendship between Ronald and Harry to consider. Inserting Draco into another Weasley familial relationship would create a territorial battle that would not in any way benefit the Fidelitās Dominō bonding. Snape wasn't certain as to the source of the antagonism - simply being 'Malfoy' and 'Weasley' would have sufficed, but the interactions between Draco and the rest of the family were not as volatile. He was willing to wager, however, that Harry Potter played a large part in whatever it was.
Molly and Arthur defended Snape to their children and admirably so, considering he had taught Potions to all seven of their Gryffindor offspring with less than glowing reviews from either side. The only two who showed any aptitude at all for the subject had been far more interested in using class time for pranks than learning. Despite the public support of the elder Weasleys, however, they were uncomfortable with the Darkness he carried in both magic and spirit. Knowing what they did, what he had to do as a Death Eater, that he'd done it willingly for a time, that he could conceal his treachery so efficiently from the Dark Lord - it made them nervous, and understandably so. The Weasleys kept as far from Dark magics as possible, and none of them knew what it was to carry Darkness within oneself. Remus Lupin, for all his faults, did.
Lupin had to battle his own Darkness on a monthly basis. It was less of a struggle when he had regular access to the Wolfsbane Potion, but any attempt at a variation which would allow a painless physical transformation had thus far been unsuccessful, and the emotional and social challenges of his condition would never fully be eradicated. Remus was insightful enough to recognize the similarities between his life as a werewolf and a boy trying to become a man while fighting the Darkness surrounding him.
Knowing that Harry intended to ask Lupin to be part of the bonding would have additional benefits. Astronomy charts and arithmancy tables were necessary to balance the ritual and needed to be calculated beforehand. Advance knowledge would allow sufficient time to adapt them appropriately, since significant accommodations would have to be made if one of the participants was subject to a lunar-based condition. Lupin would not have the strength necessary to participate in aspects of the Fidelitās Dominō bonding during the full phase of the moon unless he was transformed, and the werewolf form was not conducive to practising magic.
Severus was forced to abandon his contemplations as Draco caught his attention. The burn salve they would be brewing was extremely volatile while it was being assembled and required concentration.
Once the potion was ready to simmer, Snape graded the seventh years' afternoon work while Draco, attempting some form of active participation in his own life, began to do some of the preliminary arithmantic calculations. Each was checking the colour and consistency regularly and stirring infrequently. It needed to do nothing but simmer for several hours, but if any of the three cauldrons experienced the slightest change in colour or texture, the results could be disastrous.
They worked on their respective tasks in silence for nearly an hour before Draco broke the silence.
"My father and the Dark Lord will assume, for a short while at least, that any inconsistencies in my magic levels or control will be part of my adjustment to my new... position. It's no secret that I expected to be a leader, not a pet."
The tone Draco used to speak of the 'honour' being bestowed upon him by the Dark Lord would have been enough to convince Snape that the young man would have no chance of returning to Voldemort's presence, let alone his service. Fortunately, the lab was well warded against sound and visitors, so Severus made a noncommital sound and let him continue. Draco had no other audience for his concerns and was too likely to erupt in the most public and damaging manner if he wasn't able to express them. His apprentice returned to his own thoughts for several minutes, however, and Severus had almost decided that he'd chosen not to take advantage of the opportunity when he spoke again.
"I hate the uncertainty, really, really hate it, but I'm not ready to hear him say 'no.' This is the only option where I have any chance at all."
"Draco-"
"Uncle Severus," he interrupted, looking up for the first time, "please. You know as well as I do that I can't return to his service. Even if you weren't killed for this betrayal, Aunt Bella would use it to try to convince the Dark Lord that you are the traitor in his ranks. You know she would. She's been trying to for years. And she'd succeed this time. It looks too suspicious; he'd have to make an example of you. Then we'd both be dead."
Neither of them spoke again for the remainder of the evening.
With some patient questioning and sly innuendo at breakfast the next morning, Severus managed to establish that Minerva had a theoretical lesson planned for the Slytherin's first period Transfiguration class. Since Draco's other course of the morning was History of Magic, he would not have to expend copious amounts of energy worrying that he would be summoned to the hospital wing on Draco's behalf. Instead, he spent the first period of the day terrorizing the first year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class, a rather unsatisfying use of his time since they were a notoriously timid group to begin with.
Already feeling irritable, Snape sat at his desk and waited for the knock on his office door. His wards had informed him that Harry Potter had arrived for his Occlumency lesson and was standing outside. Nearly five minutes later, he still hadn't knocked. At one time he would have revelled in Potter's nervousness; today, it was maddening.
When they resumed their lessons a year and a half ago, they knew that working together would be difficult. They considered third-party mediation but gave up the idea when they couldn't agree on a sufficiently neutral party for the task. Instead, they each drank calming draughts for their first several meetings and on more than one occasion resorted to a timed silencing spell to guarantee that they each had equal and uninterrupted speaking time. It had been the only means of communicating effectively after so many years of baiting and antagonism.
Once they established that Harry was working almost entirely on instinct, Severus set a series of painstakingly detailed lessons. Potter would no doubt have objected vociferously to them, but after his complaints the previous year that Snape wasn't teaching and the boy's role in the death of his godfather, Harry was resigned and determined to learn, regardless of the unpleasantness.
It was largely chance that another consequence of their prior working relationship had eventually revealed itself: it had taken them a ridiculously long time, but they finally recognized the difficulties Harry was having absorbing the emotions released after he dropped his mental shields. Since most often the residual emotions were anger and frustration and those seemed to be a natural consequence of working together, both Harry and Severus were, in fact, grateful that they had managed to hold themselves together for hours rather than minutes. The actual source of the emotions having been identified, both their working relationship and Harry's abilities seemed to be improving, and with more practice and effort, their lessons had evolved again into a careful truce.
Lately, the boy's mood after releasing his shields tended to be melancholy or sullen - still negative emotions but passive ones and generally easier to throw off. It was a source of great frustration for Snape that he couldn't identify the reason for the change; he was unable to explain what was working or why and had absolutely no idea what prompted the fit of giggles Potter reported after a session practising in his dorm. He was careful to share his frustration with his student in an academic sense rather than an aggressive one, however, and their sessions this term had been productive, informative, and exhausting but ultimately satisfying. Having Harry revert to his past behaviour patterns was aggravating. When the knock finally sounded, Severus responded with a terse bark.
"Enter."
The professor and student stared at each other for several long minutes as Harry stood nervously in front of the desk. There was a strength, a defiance, in his expression, Snape recognized from the faces of the strongest of the Death Eaters' victims, the ones who held out the longest, who died before betraying their secrets or their honour. It was an expression which was too familiar on this child. This time, though it was accompanied by something else, something that might have been disappointment or possibly hurt.
"Have a seat."
Rather than waving Harry to the wooden chairs in front of the desk, designed to discourage lengthy discussion and to punish those forced to endure it, Severus gestured toward one of the comfortable sitting chairs in front of the fire. Coming around the desk to claim the other, the Head of Slytherin nearly smiled as the boy's jaw dropped. Even with their improved working relationship, they did not have cozy chats by the fire, and Harry hadn't regained his equilibrium by the time Severus was seated.
"Today, Potter." The instruction was not mild but certainly held less abrasion than usual.
It was enough to snap Harry out of his shock, and with a slight stumble, he took his seat.
"Tea?"
At Severus' quiet inquiry, a tea service appeared on the small table next to his chair, and Harry shook his head, either in response to the question or to clear it before responding hesitantly, "No, thank you."
Severus nodded absently and prepared his own tea slowly, using the time to collect his thoughts and evaluate the situation. A spy was required to react and adapt, and, as evidenced by the fact that he was not yet dead, Snape was quite good at it. What he wasn't accustomed to was having to use those skills in response to his own impulses.
He sipped his tea and watched the boy over the rim of his cup. Because there was no secret that the Dark Lord wanted into Potter's mind or that Harry was as determined to keep him out, their lessons had focussed on strength rather than discretion. As a result, Harry's shields were visible if one knew how to look for them: visible but thick and well-anchored. Severus knew of perhaps three wizards - none of them Voldemort - who would be able to get past them, even with the advantages of physical proximity. Unfortunately for Potter, one of them was in the room.
"Good," he remarked as he put his cup down.
Harry's uncertainty was evident as he looked from his professor to the tea cup. "Sir?"
Snape gave him a patronizing look, more to punish him for being obtuse and lacking in subtlety than out of any real spite.
"Your shielding - it's solid. You're well prepared for an attack." There was the slightest bit of a question layered in the praise.
"Well, you're -" Too late, Harry clamped his lips together.
Severus sipped his tea, then asked mildly, "I'm what?"
Harry shrugged, hoping the question would be dropped, but Snape watched silently as the silence became uncomfortable, and the boy continued, "I thought you'd try to break my barriers."
"Hmm. Why would you expect that?"
It could have been a fair question, as the typical pattern for their lessons lately had involved watching Harry build shields and lower them as they tried to discover the source of Harry's problem with dissipating the protections. It could have been, but it wasn't. Snape was toying with Harry, and they were both aware of it.
From his panicked expression, Severus assumed he'd begun raising his shields quite a while before and layered them for added strength. It was a successful tactic and would be even more so when he could control the reversion. At the moment, however, the greater the duration and power of his shields, the greater the probability of an emotional onslaught.
Harry's next comment made it clear he'd decided to suggest dropping them entirely as a diversion. "They should peel off; that's how I put them up. It might be easier to see what I'm doing wrong."
It was a nice attempt. He didn't lie and claim he'd done it intentionally, and he was careful to assume all the blame for his lack of success - not bad, for a Gryffindor.
"That's quite alright. I'm interested in seeing how well you can maintain those levels." His voice was carefully bland and remained so as he said, "I find it interesting you chose such strong fortifications; I'd think you had something to hide, if we hadn't moved past that months ago." Knowing full well that his original plan had been to 'attack' as Harry tended to term it and that he still would if this tack failed, the comment was calculated to yank the Gryffindor's tail. Judging from the way Potter shot straight up in his chair, it was successful.
"I thought we'd moved past manipulation."
Snape allowed himself a small smirk. "I promised Lupin I'd teach you Occlumency and try to remember that you are your own person, not that I'd impersonate a Hufflepuff." He watched the boy fight a response - a smile? - as he finished his tea and placed his cup on the table. "Why are your shields up, Harry?" The use of his given name was rare and deliberate.
"Because after the meeting in Dumbledore's office, I expected you to attack to find out about the Dursleys," Harry admitted reluctantly.
Severus nodded. "And you'd prefer to keep it hidden."
"Yes."
"You didn't think that perhaps your secrets could hinder you? That with that sort of information we could better understand your behaviour, predict your responses in battle," Snape let his voice get just a bit harder, "find a solution to your difficulties in dissipating?"
Harry looked as though he suspected Snape was fabricating reasons to justify his prying, but he didn't have facts with which to contradict.
"I will make you a deal, Mr. Potter."
Severus was gratified to see the nervousness in Harry's expression in response to the offer and amused to see it laced with curiosity.
"Tell me. Everything. And I won't attack - Today. Should I discover at a future time that you withheld significant details, you will not be able to hide anything." There was enough of a reaction to the threat that Snape was tempted to do it regardless, simply to see what had Harry so terrified.
"About the Dursleys." Defiantly.
"About your childhood, and you will answer any questions I have for clarification on the subject," Snape countered.
Harry agreed reluctantly and added, "Only for today." Since he was repeating a condition Snape had already set out, he nodded, granting it without argument. It was tempting to see if he could use the point to gain another concession, but he did need Harry to commit to the Fidelitās Dominō.
It is impossible to win if you are not willing to sacrifice a pawn to save the queen.
Severus took the next couple of moments to refill his tea cup and to pour a second which he passed to Harry. No further conditions were forthcoming, so he asked, "Are we agreed?"
Harry cautiously accepted both the tea and the terms, and Severus made one further demand.
"Remove your shields."
Harry's head shot up, and his voice was shrill, "What?"
"If you're not intending to lie, you have no need of them, and I will easily be able to gauge your honesty." Severus expected him to recognize that this point was not open for negotiation, and after a few moments of silent pleading, Harry nodded. He closed his eyes and took down his mental shields before speaking.
"After my parents died, Dumbledore left me with my mother's sister, Petunia, and her husband, Vernon. The Dursleys. They hate me." He opened his eyes, cold and hard. "It's mutual. They think I'm a freak - that all wizards are freaks - and they say so, often. I was left on the doorstep, with a letter. I assume it had some sort of threat, they wouldn't have kept me otherwise, and later - " He broke off and tilted his head as if he were listening to something; a moment later he shook his head to clear it and in response to Snape's impatient look added, "The Dursleys' greatest ambition is to be exactly the same as everyone else - just a little bit better, but exactly the same. And magic is different - I was different, so I didn't belong."
"The first question I can ever remember asking my aunt was how I got my scar." He brought his hand to his head almost unconsciously and rubbed angrily at the mark. "She told me it was from the car crash that killed my parents." Severus absorbed that, and Harry continued bitterly, "And then she told me not to ask questions. And she meant it. My aunt and uncle liked it best when they could pretend I didn't exist and ignore me as much as possible." His eyes dropped to his hands, now in his lap, and he picked forcefully at his sleeve.
"I had to wear my cousin's old clothes - which looked ridiculous as he's the size of a beached whale, and I was nearly always the smallest in the class. I got glasses only when the school nurse insisted, and Dudley and his friends broke them in the first week, and I had to Sellotape them together. When asked, my aunt said I needed a lesson in caring for my belongings - as if Dudley didn't have an entire second bedroom for his broken toys!"
Severus briefly considered giving Harry a calming potion to counter the added vulnerability of the dropped shields. He wanted to know the truth about how Harry felt about his Muggle relatives and how he was treated there, and it was clear even after a few moments that resentment and bitterness were going to be prevalent in the telling. The details of the story would be the same regardless, and if Harry became too emotional to continue his narration, he would not be willing to resume it later.
On several occasions he'd overheard various Order members speculating about why Harry never spoke about his family, his childhood. In recent years, there had been less speculation but still few details. But one of Dumbledore's favourite topics of admonition over late-night tea was the need for human beings to share, and Snape suspected that even Harry's closest friends hadn't been told everything, so he decided not to deny Potter whatever the dubious benefits of sharing were.
"Was she aware that your cousin was responsible for the damage? Did you have a history of carelessness with your belongings?" Though the questions were as objective as he could make them, Harry's reply was indignant at the implications.
"I didn't have belongings to break, and even if I had, Dudley would have found a way to take them. Besides, they wouldn't have fit into my cupboard - there was barely room for me."
"Cupboard?"
"I slept in the cupboard under the stairs until I was almost eleven." There was challenge in his voice and in his expression, suggesting his resentment wasn't confined entirely to the Muggles. "My Hogwarts letter came addressed to 'Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs'; after that, they got scared and put me in Dudley's second bedroom."
"You lived in a three bedroom house and slept under the stairs until you were eleven," he repeated.
It wasn't really a question, but Harry answered with an earnest and cheery helpfulness that was patently false. "Four bedroom. There was a guest room for when Aunt Marge came to visit."
Severus made a mental note to speak with Minerva at the first available opportunity and prompted Harry to continue. "You mentioned the school nurse. Did she - your teacher, your friends' parents, whoever - did they not object?"
"I didn't have friends; Dudley's gang beat up anyone who spoke to me. And even if I had said anything, the adults wouldn't have believed me. No one ever believed me."
Snape found that difficult to believe since he was usually the only one who doubted Harry's explanations. "I did accidental magic all the time," Harry continued defensively, "I didn't know how I ended up on the roof or how the glass broke! I couldn't give anyone a satisfactory answer - I didn't know I was a wizard or about magic at all until Hagrid came!"
Severus sat back in his chair. He knew that Harry had been raised by Muggles, obviously. It was one of Albus's pet conceits that Harry should grow up without the fame and drama of being 'Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived' - but to be unaware of magic!
The Snapes may not have been the most prestigious or wealthy of the pure-blood families in the wizarding world, but both his mother and step-father were of bloodlines that rivalled the Malfoys, and Severus was stunned that Harry, a Potter, should be raised without knowledge of his heritage.
The pride of that family in their magical ability and history... If James Potter's grandmother - a woman who made Augusta Longbottom look timid - had lived to know of it, she would have minced Dumbledore into pieces so small that nifflers wouldn't have been able to find them.
"Until Hagrid? I thought you were sent an acceptance letter."
"I was. Lots," he said with a twisted grimace. "I just wasn't allowed to open them. Uncle Vernon even took us away, so the post couldn't find us. Hagrid finally delivered the letter personally and brought me to Diagon Alley.
"Things got better after that - well, worse first, then better, but I always knew I had somewhere to go where I wasn't a freak." He thought about that for a moment then corrected ruefully, "At least, not that kind of freak."
"Worse?" Severus prompted, ignoring a pang of guilt that he couldn't let Harry turn to more pleasant topics.
"When I got back for summer vacation, Hedwig was padlocked in her cage so I couldn't send letters, and my schoolbooks were locked under the stairs - which made it a little difficult to do my summer assignments." Potter was evidently still bitter about that month of detentions as well. "Aside from that, it wasn't too bad until the Dursleys found out I wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school. Then they locked me in my room for the rest of the holidays."
Something in his distaste at the admission made Severus ask, "Literally?"
"Yeah. Bars on the windows and everything. They put a cat-flap on the door, and three times a day they pushed some food through it, not a lot but some." Severus deduced from the neutral tone that Harry was recovering from his emotional overload and that the portions Harry received could be termed generous only if compared to the servings given to the Death Eaters' prisoners. "Ron and the twins were worried that I hadn't answered their letters and finally came and broke me out. That was the first time I got to visit The Burrow." For the first time since entering the office, Harry smiled without mockery.
"Were Molly and Arthur told?" Snape was careful to keep his tone neutral as well. Very careful.
"Yes," he said, though his tone suggested he was hiding something.
"You're telling me that Molly Weasley was aware that a child was being abused, and she did nothing?" Having received howlers for the slightest of reprimands, the Potions professor found that unlikely.
"I'm not sure she actually believed us. Ron and the twins hadn't asked permission to leave and get me, exactly."
"She thought it was an exaggeration to get out of punishment," he stated bluntly.
"I reckon so."
"And you didn't mention it to her later?"
Harry shook his head. "I like the Burrow, they like me, there's no Boy Who Lived nonsense. I didn't want to talk about the Dursleys. I never want to talk about the Dursleys." He directed a pointed look at his professor.
Snape ignored it. "And afterwards?"
"The twins taught Ron and me to pick locks the Muggle way, so the summer before third year wasn't bad at all, except for accidentally blowing up Aunt Marge when I lost my temper. The next year, I told them about my godfather who was arrested for murder and escaped from prison. Things were much better then, except for Dudley's diet, but my friends sent me food. The Dursleys wanted me there even less than I wanted to be there, and I never told them Sirius was innocent or about... the Department of Mysteries, so they left me alone."
"Severe emotional abuse and physical neglect, that was the extent of it?" Severus tried to keep his tone even, not belittling or accusatory, but wasn't able to tell from the boy's expression how well he succeeded.
"Aunt Petunia would sometimes swat at me with the nearest object, a frying pan or whatever, but she'd usually let me get away if I dodged. Uncle Vernon would shake me or yank my arm if I wasn't moving fast enough. Dudley was the worst, really, him and his friends, but they had to catch me first."
Severus really didn't want to ask the next question but needed to know if that was the entirety of what he'd been hiding. "There was no... other... inappropriate..." Discomfited to hear himself stammer, he felt a profound sense of relief when he was interrupted.
"No," Harry answered. "Vernon's incredibly homophobic."
Snape raised an ironic eyebrow, and Harry continued, "Besides, the scandal of being caught would be huge, and that alone would have stopped him. He'd have been notorious. They were careful, really; anything that would have left bruises could have been explained as some sort of punishment that got out of hand."
Snape knew the next wasn't a question but a confirmation of fact, but he asked it regardless, "And the headmaster was aware of your situation?"
"Yeah." Snape thought the boy intended to leave it at that, but he continued, "He knew when he left me there he was condemning me to 'ten dark and difficult years.' Direct quote, that. He believed my mother's blood sacrifice was the only thing that could keep me safe, and he wouldn't let me leave if things were less than life threatening.
"I know the headmaster wanted me to stay with them even longer, but...," he shook his head helplessly, "I couldn't. Besides, the Dursleys were there when I got the letter from the Ministry congratulating me on my 'Coming of Age.' Uncle Vernon didn't want me performing magic in their home, and," his voice hardened, sounding more like Alastor Moody than any seventeen year old boy should, "I refused to surrender my wand."
Snape nodded, knowing that he, too, would have refused.
All things considered, Severus would have preferred to take lunch in his own rooms and process what he'd learned in solitude.
As Head of Slytherin, however, he was responsible for the students in his House: too many of them had been raised to be dismissive of Dumbledore and his authority, and they quickly taught the others. This late in the term, if Snape wanted his house to behave for the only other Slytherin Professor on staff - assuming the Astronomy professor was both conscious this early in the day and present for the meal - he needed to be in the hospital wing or give them advance notice and dire consequences. That not being possible, he was in the Great Hall watching Malfoy and Potter look anywhere but at each other and try to convince their respective friends that food had been consumed.
The Occlumency session had been remarkably successful, far more so than Snape would have predicted. Harry had left somewhat resentful, but they had not succumbed to the anger and frustration that had characterized their conflicts in the past.
Snape understood, finally, why Dumbledore continued to arrange matters so Harry and Severus were forced to spend significant amounts of time together, despite the anger and hatred, the danger should the Dark Lord discover the extent of it. In addition to Snape's connection, however tenuous, to James and Lily, Harry's background was closer to Severus's than either of them would be comfortable admitting. He, too, had been the child who didn't belong - rather than too magical, he had been too bookish, too ugly, or too Dark, but he was still shunted aside for talents he did not choose to possess.
Where Severus's own years at Hogwarts had been hellish, tormented as he was by James Potter and the Mauraders, the school had been instead a haven for Harry, where he was protected from his relatives and his cousin's gang.
Severus thought about the boy's childhood, his relatives, and his years at school, and he realized how very lucky the headmaster was that Harry had not become a Dark wizard himself.
Between Harry's upbringing with the Muggles and the pressure he faced, both from the Wizarding world in general and Albus in particular, it would not have been surprising if the boy had decided to abandon Dumbledore's cause entirely. Severus doubted that he would join Voldemort - the losses Potter had suffered at his hand were too bitter for that - but the child was repudiated so often by strangers and friends alike that he could decide at any time to become the next Dark Lord.
How... propitious the boy was such a Gryffindor.
Severus knew Draco Malfoy had been given orders to befriend the boy, and if Lucius hadn't raised him to be such an arrogant swot, he would have been Harry Potter's first friend.
He'd only heard Draco's account of their meeting on the train, but he now knew enough about Harry's childhood to understand where his godson had erred.
If he had been successful, it would have created a connection between The Boy Who Lived and Draco - and Slytherin - that could have proved impervious to censure. Potter was a model Hufflepuff in his unfailing loyalty: witness his friendship with the Weasley boy. Clearly, no status or connections would be gained from the relationship, Ronald was not gifted with remarkable talents or skills of note, and a great deal of effort was required on Harry's part to overcome the redhead's temper and jealousy: in Slytherin, the alliance would have been very short lived.
In many ways it was a shame Draco hadn't been able to befriend Potter; the two of them certainly had much more in common with each other than they did with any of their current associates; being of similar financial and social backgrounds and leaders in their houses, they were each gifted with higher than average intelligence and ability when they cared to make use of their talents. Even in Quidditch, about which all the boys were passionate, it was Draco who was the fellow Seeker.
A close friendship with the Malfoy heir would have benefited Potter as he trained to become the warrior and politician he needed to be - once the bonding was complete and able to sustain outside influences, Severus would have to remember to suggest Potter make use of Draco's experience in that - and if Potter was going to make his course choices based on those of his best friend, his apparent strategy until this year, Draco's options would have been of more use to a future Auror.
Slytherin, of course, would have benefited from the dispelling of the rumour that it was the 'Evil House.'
Snape suspected he'd discovered the reasoning behind the encouraging of the resentment between the boys and their Houses.
Inter-House friendships, while less common than inner-House ones, were not unheard of, particularly in forms other than that of the current seventh-years, and with the exception of certain instances, he did not recall the favouritism being as blatant in the years before Harry Potter and his year-mates arrived at the school. Other students, certainly, were not gifted with invisibility cloaks nor were the points for the House Cup altered at whim during the leaving feast.
In recent years, the only occasions wherein the infractions of the Slytherins were overlooked was on the Quidditch pitch, where Slytherins were perceived as being unsportsmanlike when they took advantage of the only opportunity they had available to them to make up significant points. Snape knew that he himself had gone beyond any reasonable expectations of favouritism that the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters would have had, yet Dumbledore had not spoken to him on the subject even once without McGonagall present and demanding it.
In each instance, Slytherin was set in opposition to Gryffindor, the House of Dark versus the House of Light.
Given Potter's surprisingly insightful comments in CATS: Dark Arts, how much of the rift was caused by Dumbledore's fear that, like Tom Riddle fifty years before, Harry would dabble or even succumb to the lure of Dark magics?
How many of the feuds between Houses were incited in similar ways, for similar reasons?
Snape decided the meal was sufficiently close to complete that he could glare meaningfully at his known miscreants and depart the hall. He needed to find a task to occupy his mind before he was forced to examine too closely the history of his relationship with Sirius Black.
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