7

Chapter Seven

22

"They threw a party last night!" Neville announced before he'd even sat down. "The greenhouse was a wreck, but they threw a bloody party!"

Cheers radiated out as the news spread.

More quietly, Harry said, "Snape and I have been making loads of progress, too. We need more experiments, but we're getting there."

"How are you testing it?" Ron asked.

Harry froze. "There's a snake called the Inland Taipan that's the most deadly snake in the world."

"With its eyes?" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Harry said, wracking his brain. "Snape invented a spell to give it sort of laser eyes. It's not the same as a Basilisk, but it's as close as we can get."

Ron frowned. "Lasers? What're lasers?"

Harry, who had become very accustomed to defining words, quickly explained. "We won't know for sure unless the real Basilisk shows itself."

"The last attack was only last week," Ron said. "They seem to come in groupings. It's bound to be seen eventually."

Harry's stomach churned uncomfortably. "Hopefully not," he said. Then he really thought about it. "No, actually, they don't. The first three were pretty close together, but the Hufflepuffs—oh, wait, I see your point. I'd rather never have the chance to test it than there be another attack."

"Cheers."

Harry went down to the Chamber right after Transfiguration, as promised.

"Have you noticed the accidents come in groupings?" Harry asked as he started on the cherry pits. "The first three accidents were all close together. Maybe that means I'm about to strike again, since the Hufflepuffs were only last week."

"No," Snape said. "The first were as you were getting used to your condition and testing the limits. The Hufflepuffs were my fault. You needn't worry."

"I suppose," Harry said, though he wasn't convinced. "How many cherry pits this time?"

"Twenty-one."

Harry sighed. He'd needed to stop to sharpen the knife two or three times when he was only doing ten and a half, let alone twice that. He hated sharpening knives, it always felt like such a waste of time. But eventually he made it through the pits and then onto the Tentacula leaves. The heaping pile Snape handed him was even more disheartening. Reducing this many leaves to "finely" was going to take forever. And in the best case scenario it would work, meaning he'd have to do this all the time for the rest of his life.

"We need a mixer," Harry said.

"No," Snape said again. "Potions are always stronger when prepared by hand."

Harry sighed again. Of course they were.

Even though it seemed like the combined tasks had taken hours and hours, he was done by four. "Two hours until dinner," he said. "Got anything else for me?"

"Milking," Snape replied, handing him a dead Inland Taipan. "You'll have to get twice as much venom as you had before."

Harry stared at him. "I can't magic its fangs bigger," he said. "There's as much venom as there is. I don't have any control over it. I need two snakes."

Snape shook his head sharply. "These snakes are not easy to get, and we want to use them as sparingly as possible. You'll just have to make do."

Harry muttered to himself angrily the whole time. First he went through the normal milking process, arriving with the same amount of venom as before. Then he yanked the teeth out and let a few more drops leak out. Finally he ended up with a Q-tip, swabbing the insides of the teeth and wringing them out over the bowl.

"That's as much as I can get," Harry said.

Snape poured the venom into a vial and examined it closely. "Good enough, I suppose," he said. "You really can't get any more?"

Harry grabbed his wrist and slammed the teeth into his hand. "You try."

Snape jerked away. "Twenty points from Gryffindor," he snapped. "A simple no would have sufficed."

Harry glanced at the clock. "Sorry," he muttered. "Tuesdays may be early, but I don't get lunch and I'm starved. Dinner?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking my permission or inviting me?"

"I'm too hungry to care," Harry said.

"Then go without me," Snape replied, turning back to his potion. "If you would not mind by all means bring me something, but I can go without a meal."

Harry paused. "You don't have to skip meals for me. It'll get done."

"I am trying to streamline the brewing process as well as make it more potent," Snape replied. "I'm not taking a break until it's simmering."

"If you say so," Harry said hesitantly.

"Go."

Harry spent most of dinner apologizing to Ron for not helping him with his potions essay that was due tomorrow. Ron didn't stop ragging on him until Harry told him he hadn't done any of his homework at all, and he'd no doubt be up until four in the morning. Hermione pursed her lips at this, though she had learned not to bother Harry about asking for time off, since he clearly wasn't going to and Snape clearly wouldn't let him (he had failed to mention the times when Snape had not only let him off but demanded he stop). Neville was still bouncing with excitement over the mandrake party. Harry was trying to decide if he could just say he was bringing Snape dinner, or if that would seem like he was acting too nicely towards the professor, and have to smuggle the food out.

It wasn't a dinner that was easy to smuggle. Bread rolls, yes. Those could go in pockets. But lasagna? That was messy enough on a place, let alone somehow secretly nabbing a few slices. Eventually he just gave up and took two pieces of the pasta, a roll and, once dessert appeared, a slice of blueberry cobbler.

Only Ron raised an eyebrow at this.

"He's Snape," he pointed out. "Since when does Snape deserve cobbler?"

Harry had told them about Snape's memories, but had kept a few details to himself, mostly the ones regarding his father. And of course they didn't know that Harry was the monster Snape was trying to help. To everybody's shock, it was Neville who spoke up to defend him.

"If I deserve cobbler, so does he," Neville said firmly. "He terrifies me and I hate him, but the work he's doing is downright noble."

Harry blinked at him. "Er, right. That. Anyway, I should go, I've got at least two essays due tomorrow. See you in the morning."

Snape was impressed by the dinner, though he didn't show it. Instead he merely instructed Harry to put it on the table in the common room with a warming charm keeping it fresh.

"Is it okay if I do homework?" Harry asked. "I haven't had a chance all day."

"I was going to insist."

Harry settled in the common room with a giant mound of books and parchment and got to work. It felt enough like Gryffindor Tower and he was distracted enough that he nearly had a heart attack when Snape came over.

"Simmering?" Harry asked once he remembered the head of Slytherin wasn't calmly waltzing into the Gryffindor common room.

"For the next twelve hours," Snape replied. "Then whenever you're ready."

"Merlin, not tonight," Harry muttered, going back to his papers. At least he didn't have Defense, which was frankly terrifying to do next to his professor. Charms was easy enough, as was Transfiguration, but for the first time in a long time he got stuck on Potions. "How do you keep a potion that's simmering not to thicken?" he asked eventually.

"Figure it out yourself, Potter."

"I've tried," Harry said, just this side of whining. "The book doesn't say, you didn't mention it in class, and while you're doing this exact thing a few meters away, you never explained why."

"It has to do with magic," Snape replied in between bites of lasagna.

Harry groaned. "May I examine your potion?"

Snape nodded. "You helped make it, you have access to it."

Harry spent a long time poking around before he realized the obvious—the orange zest. Citrus was a thinner, and it counteracted any potential thickening. He returned to his essay and finished a few minutes later. He sighed in relief and put his feet up. "Three essays, and it only took me five hours," he said, somewhere between amused, horrified and proud of himself.

"Mm," Snape said neutrally. He had finished eating and was just sitting, presumably relaxing, though it wasn't as if he had more than one expression so Harry could actually tell what he was thinking.

"I'm not tired yet," Harry said, floating his homework back into his room. "Chess?"

"I have spent all day thinking, I would prefer a few moments rest."

"Can I get you a book or something?" Harry asked, so used to fetching things it didn't occur to him that might be an odd thing to say.

"No," Snape said calmly. He closed his eyes and sighed. That was an expression, an actual real live expression. He looked peaceful. It was bizarre.

Harry thought he might be on to something. If just sitting and doing nothing was enough to get Snape of all people to relax, maybe it would help him, too. It had been a good day, but even his good days were filled with nonstop work, and maybe it would be good not to do anything. He slumped down, feet sliding across the coffee table as he settled into the couch, and he closed his eyes.

He saw what he always did when he closed his eyes: snakes. Snakes and petrified bodies. He frowned, forcing the images away. And then, again like always, visions of the war floated in. They got tangled up with the petrified. Blood and death and battles and Voldemort and petrified. Fred, Tonks, Remus, Sirius, Hagrid, Dean. They were all mixed up together.

Taking Snape's memories as he bled out. Watching them in the Pensieve and realizing just how awful his father had been during his Hogwarts days. Finding out that Dumbledore had orchestrated his death the year before and Snape had been working for him the whole time. The jolt of just how much Snape loved Lily.

"How did you survive Nagini's attack?" Harry asked.

"No," Snape said. "I'm relaxing and I'm not talking about that."

"Whenever I try to bring up something serious you refuse to talk about it," Harry accused. "How you survived the attack, your relationship with my parents, your entire life as a spy and everything you did for our side. I get why you don't want to talk about Dumbledore, neither do I, but you did so many fantastic things. We're friends, sort of, in a way. Why won't you talk to me?"

"Do you want to go into the details regarding your darkest memories?" Snape asked, still in that calm, relaxed voice. "Watching the Dark Lord rise, watching Sirius die, talk about all the ways I have made your life difficult over the years? Is that a nice, relaxing time for you?"

Harry sighed. "I want to get to know you," he said.

Snape let out an irritated sigh. "One word explanations. What did you ask?"

"How did you survive Nagini's attack?" Harry asked.

"Dittany."

Right, that was obvious. He must have waited just long enough for Voldemort to leave before applying it. Or maybe grasped at his neck with the bottle hidden in his hand. Harry thought back to his questions. He didn't really want to ask about his parents, he had seen that first hand in Snape's memories. He had seen the important parts about his spying as well, all the times when he had chosen light over dark. Harry suddenly realized just how much he knew about Snape.

"Are you ever going to be happy?" That wasn't really a fair question, but it was an important one.

Snape considered for quite some time before answering. "Yes."

Harry hadn't even started to think of his next question before Snape spoke again.

"This is not an equal conversation," he said. "A question for a question."

Harry shrugged. "Okay." Pretty much all of his business was public knowledge, he didn't think there was much to hide.

"Did it ever occur to you there might have been more than what you saw when I killed Dumbledore?"

Harry froze. No, he hadn't been expecting that. He had to think very hard to answer. The eventual deciding factor wasn't the killing curse, or what followed, but what had happened just before, when Snape had told him to be quiet as he walked up the tower. "Yes. Did you carry me to bed and tuck me in when I was really drunk, or did I manage myself?" Harry immediately added, "Wait, that's a terrible yes or no question. Did you do those things?"

In a pained voice, Snape said, "Yes. However, you initiated physical contact. Why?"

One word. Why had he said one word? One word was impossible. He could say lonely, or sad, or drunk, and they would all be true. The real answer, though, was two words, and they didn't separate well. Then again, this was his own fault. "Need." Needed to or needed you or needed physical contact or needed to pretend there was an adult who loved me. Not that those answers were much better, now that he thought about it. "You said you thought you'd be happy one day. Do you think you'll find someone who isn't my mum? Do you think you'll ever settle down?"

Harry saw Snape struggling, and thought the one word rule was becoming an issue for him as well. "Unlikely. Do you trust me now?"

"Yes," Harry said without a moment's hesitation. "Do you trust me?"

"Predominantly." That was flattering. After everything Snape had done, Harry could forgive him, but Snape couldn't set aside their differences? Brilliant. "Do you promise me you won't exile yourself after Hogwarts?"

That depended entirely on the success of Snape's potions. He didn't want to say maybe, that felt like cheating, but he couldn't think of another way to phrase it. "Potion?" That was a question, sort of, but mostly an answer. "After we're done with the potions, whenever that is, are you going to go back to hating me and kick me out of your life?"

There was a pause, but somehow it felt calculated instead of real. "No." Then a real pause as Snape planned his next question. Instead of asking he said, "It is far too late for such a childish game. I'm going to bed."

"No, don't," Harry said without thinking. Snape gave him a very odd look, but didn't rise from his position on the couch. "The mandrakes threw a party last night. Everyone is celebrating. The common room will be filled with friends and food and joy, and I'm down here."

"You have your own good news to be happy about," Snape replied. "The success, however limited by time, of our potion. Rejoice in that."

"I'm happy about both," Harry said. "That's not my point. I don't have anyone to celebrate with."

"It is a school night, Potter," Snape said. "You shouldn't be celebrating by staying up late, or drinking, or however Gryffindors celebrate. Celebrate by doing yourself a favor and getting a decent night's sleep. You are sorely lacking."

"I don't want to sleep, and I don't want to drink," Harry said. "I just want another person to acknowledge what's happening, and that life isn't entirely awful."

"I assure you, it is not," Snape said, which was a very odd thing to hear from him. "Does this require an extended conversation on the details of mandrake parties, or yet again going over my plan for the potion?"

"No," Harry said irritably. "Forget it. Figures you wouldn't understand the concept of celebration."

Snape sighed heavily. "I tire of you determining what I do and do not know about," he said. "I am fully capable of celebrating a success, I just chose to do it differently than an eighteen year old."

"Celebrating by yourself is lonely and depressing," Harry said firmly. "I don't care what we do, but we should mark this day somehow."

Snape considered. Then he pulled out his wand and conjured a series of tiny, flickering balls of flame from the fireplace to dance over the table. "One for each of the petrified. One for our potion and one for the mandrakes. And," he said, looking very uncomfortable, "one for you, because apparently Gryffindors don't consider a celebration proper without some sort of fanfare."

Harry smiled. "Thank you."

Snape put his wand away. "They will burn for the rest of the night, in case you need a late night reminder. Now I really am going to bed, whether or not it suits you, and I recommend you do the same."

"Yeah, suppose so." They walked to their rooms together, Gryffindor red and gold next to Slytherin green and silver (Snape had changed his the day following the Gryffindor colors). They hovered outside the curtains as if there was something else to say. Harry, who was only ever full of stupid ideas, reached out and squeezed Snape's hand, just for a moment. "See you in the morning."

"Until then."

24

Harry woke up feeling not nearly as celebratory. For one thing, his condition wreaked havoc with his sleep schedule, and he was up at five. He refused to get dressed that early and shuffled out of his room to find Snape already brewing.

"Don't you ever sleep?" Harry asked, slumping onto the table.

"It has been known to happen," Snape replied.

Harry glared at him. "You're in a good mood."

"You need not take it so personally," Snape said. "You were filled with your own good mood last night. I merely needed a good sleep before the implications of our potion fully sunk in. What is your excuse for losing your good cheer?"

"I'm going to spend the rest of my life brewing potions," Harry said. "Even if we get it under control, I can't work for the Ministry when all my time is taken up by finely mincing Tentacula leaves. Besides, how am I supposed to drink this myself? You've been feeding me, aside from the accident with the table. I don't have any hands," he said, waving his hands in the air.

"There is always a solution to be found," Snape replied, sounding almost optimistic. "Come here. You should know what this looks like when it's properly brewed."

Harry heaved himself up and collapsed on the other bench next to Snape. "It's only half-done," he said, eyeing the red liquid.

"And you should be intimately familiar with every stage," Snape replied. "See how it is just barely bubbling around the edges? You must keep it exactly as that. Look at the strength of the fire; it is hardly there at all. This is important, Potter. What will you do when I am no longer there to brew for you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry muttered. "Besides, we don't know if this'll work or not, or how well."

"Then you will know what it looks like when it is brewed incorrectly," Snape said. "That is just as important as knowing the correct appearance. You must be able to recognize both."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, fine."

There was a very long silence as Snape watched the potion. Then, keeping his eyes on the cauldron, he said, "I have decided you should spend the summer in Spinner's End with me. My basement is quite vast, and we can have a similar setup to what we have now. It will give me the best opportunity to continue our tests and, once we have completed this potion, to move on to others. It presents the smallest risk of you doing something stupid and rash."

Harry stared at him. "The Forbidden Forest— Hebrideans—"

"I do not wish to spend my summer in the woods, nor attempt to keep a sterile working environment in such conditions. I am even less pleased to keep a constant eye out for dragons."

Harry continued to stare at him. "And during the days?" he asked. "What do you expect me to do then?"

"Whatever you usually do during the summer," Snape replied. "I am hardly intimate with your activities outside of Hogwarts."

Harry attempted to process this. "You want me to live with you," he said bluntly.

"The use of the word 'want' may be stretching, but yes," Snape said.

Harry tapped his foot on the floor, as close to swishing his tail as he could get. "I suppose it would be less lonely than exiling myself," he said slowly. "Unless you spend your entire time locked away avoiding me, which I wouldn't put past you. And…"

"We have already shown that is not my intention," Snape said. "I am curious to the rest of your sentence."

Harry closed his eyes, letting Snape's memories from the Pensieve wash over him. "It's close to where my mum grew up, isn't it?"

A short pause. "Yes."

Harry nodded. "Fine, then. I need some things from Grimmauld Place, but I suppose it makes sense."

"You shall have your own room to do whatever you please with," Snape said. "I would be careful spending the night there as the room is not nearly as expansive as my cellar, but the choice is yours."

Harry's mind was racing, trying to make sense of this. "We can play chess?"

A small smile danced across Snape's face. "Yes, Potter, we can play chess."

"And occasionally get completely smashed, right?"

"I see no reason why not."

"Is there a place to fly nearby? Enchanted airspace or something?"

Snape considered. "I am not sure. There is a large field not too far away I can enchant for you."

Harry fidgeted. "Can I have friends over?"

Snape winced. "If you must. Though how you would explain your presence at my house I do not know."

That, in fact, was a very good point. "I'll just stick to the Burrow, then, and invite them over to Grimmauld Place so it won't seem suspicious."

Snape nodded. "A wise decision."

Harry's fidgeting grew. "How am I supposed to explain why I'm not working at the Ministry? Or why I've got to leave so early every night?"

"You may blame me, if you wish," Snape offered. "Tell them you have changed your mind, that you spent too much time battling dark wizards to make a career of it. Instead you are serving an apprenticeship with me."

Harry stared at him. "You're brilliant."

Snape's tight smile returned. "I am either brilliant or a prat depending upon your mood. I will accept the momentary flattery, however fleeting it may be."

Harry had another question, but it wasn't the sort of thing he could ask Snape, it was the sort of thing he'd just have to hold out and see. He settled back down against the table, using his arms as a pillow.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly. "For everything."

"Yes, well," Snape said awkwardly, and Harry thought he wasn't used to receiving praise.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Harry asked. "You've done so much, and all I've done is chop and whine and be a prat."

"Continue to chop and stop the other two," Snape replied. He let out a small sigh and sat down. "There is nothing I can do for the potion now beyond worry. And still, two hours until breakfast."

"Yeah, my sleep is fu—messed up, too," Harry said. "I'm going to pretend I can take a nap." He went over to the common room and collapsed on a couch, pulling a throw over himself and lighting a fire. "Y'need to make the throws thicker," he sighed. "It's so cold down here, I hate it."

Snape waved his wand and the throw thickened into a full on comforter. "Better?"

"No, now I feel like I'm in bed," Harry protested.

Snape groaned. "What was that about not being a prat again?"

Harry bit the inside of his cheek. "Maybe you could just make it fleece instead of regular fabric, and lengthen it so it covers my feet."

"I fail to see why you cannot do this yourself," Snape replied, though he did as Harry requested. "Are we done?"

"Mhm," Harry sighed, snuggling into the couch. He closed his eyes but instead of seeing all the damage he caused, he was occupied by Snape, who had been so unexpectedly nice to him. In fact he couldn't remember a single instance when Snape had been difficult, rude or even anything other than amicable. Snape had been right, Harry was the one causing any strife between them. He felt guilty but, at the same time, he was eighteen and Snape was—was—well, older than that. He supposed that was some sort of excuse.

But still, with all of his 'whine and be a prat' moments, Snape still put up with him. That was interesting. He had spent the entirety of Harry's years at Hogwarts humiliating him, berating him, making his life awful, and now suddenly everything was—well, maybe not fine, but good. Quite good. Especially lately.

"Snape, what're you doing with me?" There was silence, and Harry realized that was a very odd question. "I mean, you're nice to me now, at least down here. And inviting me to live with you? It sort of seems like you care about me."

Harry's hearing had improved even as a human, and he heard Snape settle on the other couch. "There is no point in needless bickering when we are forced to work together. I invited you to live with me out of convenience."

Harry's heart dropped. This was stupid. He'd never had a proper guardian, or adult friend, or confidant, or whatever you wanted to call it, before, and there was no reason to expect one now, least of all from Severus Snape.

"Sorry, never mind," he muttered. "Guess I'm just tired."

"Very well then," Snape said. "Carry on with your pretend napping."

It almost wouldn't be odd, in a way. Snape had looked out for him in a backwards way, even if Dumbledore had forced him into it. He knew his dad, and his friends. He loved Lily.

Then again, it didn't matter, because Snape hated him.

Merlin, this was stupid. Terribly stupid. Stupid and desperate. Was he really so needy that he latched on to anyone close by? Exhaustively pathetic.

Then again, Snape was being nice to him.

Sort of. Sometimes.

Then again, again, and this was the real point, Harry was being pathetic.