9

Chapter Nine

26

April was insanely busy. Harry was studying for his N.E.W.T.s which were suddenly just around the corner. When he wasn't studying he was helping Snape brew a reserve of the potion, learning to brew Pepper Up, and, as a Basilisk, sulking in front of the fireplace wishing he could be more useful.

Snape was just as occupied. For the first time Harry saw him grading papers outside the confines of his room or, on quiet days, in class, somehow managing to brew and grade at the same time. He no longer arrived in the Chamber by exactly eight; he was tutoring, which, he angrily told Harry, was written into his contract and unavoidable. These nights he would be extraordinarily irritable, sometimes not arriving until after midnight, and Harry learned to stay out of his way until he calmed down.

On the other hand, after seven months of living together, they had finally learned how to cohabitate. It amounted to staying out of Snape's way and letting him instigate any and all contact. Harry would avoid Snape when he was at his worst, he no longer felt the need to antagonize his professor, or push for any answers, explanations, or time spent together. If Snape wanted to play chess, he would initiate it. If they had free time and were just relaxing on the couch, he left any conversation to Snape. The key was to not push the man, to let him do what pleased him, regardless of any ill effects on Harry.

Harry continued to change, and continued to use the potion. At first it was as nerve-wracking as the first success, but as time moved on the worry wore off. The effects of the potion lasted through the entirety of his transformation, though they had yet to figure out a delivery mechanism better than Snape pouring the contents into his mouth. The danger turned to an annoyance, and caused Harry panic only because he couldn't do his homework properly. He had tried using a Quick-Quotes Quill but it didn't take well to Parseltongue and, after a few attempts at deciphering his hisses it exploded, ink flying everywhere.

Neither of them had the time or energy to begin work on the next potion. Harry mentioned once that having control over his changes might be helpful, and Snape had agreed before reeling off a list of his obligations and informing Harry if he had the time, he was more than welcome to get started.

There were only two sparks of hope in his life—there had been no attacks since the Hufflepuffs, and the mandrake parties were getting louder and crazier. Neville was sure they'd be moving into each other's pots no later than mid-May. Harry didn't like having to rely on Snape to feed him the potion, but the elation at being safe more than made up for it. He even began leaving the Chamber under the guise of study breaks. He confined himself to the pipes, but having freedom again, even if he was stuck behind the walls, was something he thanked Merlin for every transformation.

Harry lasted until the first Tuesday of the third week of May before having a breakdown. He managed to hold off until he was in the Chamber before collapsing on his couch, huge sobs wracking through him. There was no way he could keep up with his work. He couldn't study with his friends. He was going to fail his N.E.W.T.s. During dinner Hermione had been going on and on about how she was so excited they'd be working at the Ministry together, though in different departments, and Harry had finally snapped, yelling that he'd be working with Snape instead of pursuing a career as an Auror. There was a moment of dead silence before the predicted outburst. Hermione couldn't believe he was letting his talents go to waste and Ron couldn't believe he was willingly working with Snape. Only Neville, who was still in charge of the mandrakes, seemed to come close to understanding.

The study session that night was very tense indeed.

Harry was halfway through his Defense paper when the second breakdown came. He threw his book across the room before dissolving into tears. It was too much, too fucking much. Snape was absent despite it being nearly ten and it had been ages since Harry had felt this lonely. He curled himself into a ball as he cried, trying to ignore the unfriendly echoes of his sobs bouncing off the stone walls.

He hadn't noticed Snape's arrival until a flask of calming draught was shoved into his face. He didn't bother fighting it, just took a deep gulp. Probably more than the recommended dose, but he couldn't bring himself to care. His tears slowly stopped until he was just sniffling unhappily, at which point Snape handed him a box of tissues. Arms heavy—definitely too much calming draught, then—he cleaned his face and finally rolled over so he was facing Snape, who was sitting on the floor in front of him.

"Thanks," Harry said, voice croaky from crying.

"Was there an incident that triggered this outburst?" Snape asked.

Harry shook his head mournfully. "N.E.W.T.s. Loneliness. I can't study with my friends, not really, and also I told them I was going to be working with you instead of at the Ministry, and I'm not sure Hermione's still speaking to me, and—"

"Stop," Snape interrupted. "I have been keeping an eye on your marks, and you are as prepared for the N.E.W.T.s as can be expected. If I thought you were truly falling behind, I would have taken action. You may not have a study group, but your individual studies have been perfectly adequate. Your friends will adjust to your chosen career path; they are just as stubborn and difficult as you, but Gryffindor loyalty always comes out in the end. If they have not left you by now, I find it difficult to believe something as insignificant as a potion apprenticeship will force them away."

Harry blew into a tissue, feeling very undignified. "I suppose."

"Once the school year is over and we move to Spinner's End, we will have ample time to work on a potion to control your transformations," Snape said. "Once you can control yourself, you can fully resume your social life. In the meantime, however busy we both are, I assume my presence is better than nothing."

"I suppose," Harry repeated. "Well, no, I don't really suppose. We hardly speak, we haven't had a go at chess in ages, and now that the potion is perfected, all the preparations I do I can handle on my own. Did you see the pile of cherry pits I left for you? I skipped lunch to do that."

Snape nodded. "I did. Do not skip any further meals. No doubt this disintegration of yours was only made worse by a lack of nutrients."

"Fine," Harry sighed. "I need to finish my Defense essay. Accio Defense book." It flew across the room into his hands, and Snape promptly took it from him.

"You are clearly in need of a break," he said. "You cannot write a decent essay when you are this upset, let alone with the addition of the calming draught. Do whatever you wish with your night off."

"I can't have a night off," Harry said irritably. "That paper is due tomorrow. I'm not interested in getting points docked for handing it in late, Professor."

Snape glanced over Harry's essay. "You may be a foot short, but this is adequate."

"Then I've got Charms—"

"No," Snape said, interrupting again. "You are going to stay exactly where you are, collapsed on the couch, until you go to bed."

"I can't," Harry repeated. "Really, I need to…" He trailed off as Snape covered him with the throw, surprised into silence.

"Relax," Snape said, not unkindly. More than that, almost actively kindly.

"And you?" Harry asked accusingly. "Are you going to take a break?"

"Of course not," Snape replied. "I am not in tears over a simple essay. However, I have fallen behind on grading, and will not be brewing tonight."

"Great," Harry said hollowly.

Snape left, and Harry assumed he'd be spending the rest of the night alone. Instead Snape returned and sat next to him on the couch with a stack of papers and his red quill. Harry craned his neck to look at him.

"What're you doing?"

"You said you were lonely," Snape replied.

"Um, okay," Harry said intelligently. He curled back up, once again closing his eyes. Maybe he could take a quick nap and get back to studying. He tried to remember how much calming draught he had taken, but he wasn't sure how "a big gulp" translated to a proper dosage. The effect still hadn't completely hit, and as the potion took a deeper hold he uncurled, no longer having the energy to keep himself so tense. His feet hit the arm of the couch and, before he realized what was happening, his head was pressed against Snape's leg.

"Don't jostle me," Snape said. "You made me cross out the only sentence not entirely incorrect."

"Sorry," Harry muttered. This was the only physical contact he'd had in weeks, and he hated himself for asking, "Do you want me to move?"

"The decision is yours, as long as you are careful and do not slam yourself into me," Snape replied.

"I didn't—" Harry cut himself off. Arguing wouldn't help anything.

The problem was that while it was nice to be touching someone, having his head squished up against Snape wasn't very comfortable. He was squeezed between the man and the arm of the couch, and he wasn't willing to sacrifice either the contact or hanging his legs off the edge of the couch, depriving himself of the warmth of the blanket as well as potentially unbalancing and falling off entirely.

So, slowly and carefully, he rearranged himself so his head was resting entirely on Snape's lap. He was extraordinarily tense, waiting to be kicked off at any moment, and the anxiety was arguably worse than the physical discomfort.

"How do you expect me to grade papers like this, Potter?"

"I dunno," Harry said quietly. "I'll stop."

"I assume you would not make such a brash move if it was not absolutely necessary," Snape replied. "I will manage."

"Thanks," Harry said, voice dropping even further. Time stretched on like taffy, Harry's exhaustion and panic only just managed by the draught combined to prevent sleep but also left him unable to fully wake up. The crackling of the fire and the scratch of Snape's quill were comforting and almost unheard. Harry let himself drift. Not thinking was his new favorite thing.

At some point the scratching of the quill stopped, and there was a flurry of moving papers as Snape sent them back to his room.

"Done?" Harry asked sleepily.

"Indeed," Snape replied. "It is nearly two in the morning, I would hope my workload finished."

Harry sighed quietly. "I'll get up, then."

He started to move but Snape pushed him down, and left his hand on his shoulder. "Unnecessary. You were asleep. I do not wish to disturb you."

Harry had a very hard time processing his words. "I wasn't asleep," he said.

"No? Then why, when I asked if you were, did you not reply?"

Harry had to think very hard. "I—uh."

"Sleep. You need it."

"And you?" Harry asked. "Don't you need to sleep? Aren't you uncomfortable?"

"I am fine," Snape said. His hand was still on Harry's shoulder, providing a comforting weight. "Go back to sleep, Harry."

He wasn't going to argue; he was too tired and too comfortable. "If you're sure."

"I would not say I was if I were not."

"Okay," he said, still a bit baffled. "Sleep well. Move me if you need to." He thought Snape might have replied, but he was too tired to hear properly and before he could ask him to repeat it, Harry was asleep.

27

Harry woke up warm and comfortable. He was on the couch, which shouldn't have been as comfortable as his bed, but he was calm and relaxed. He didn't think it was the calming draught, which would have worn off by now. Actually, he should be depressed.

Instead he moved closer to the warmth, snuggling further against it. Against him, Harry remembered. He had fallen asleep on Snape's lap. That was why he was feeling so good? Apparently so. Snape had a hand on his shoulder and was, as far as Harry could tell, still asleep.

The last thing Harry wanted to do, and the only thing he could do, was his Defense essay. He gave himself one last moment before sitting up and pulling his essay over. He was about to start writing when it occurred to him he should probably check the time.

He nearly had a heart attack. His first class had started ten minutes ago. His first class was Defense. His Defense professor was lying on the couch, fast asleep. This was not a promising start to his day.

"Snape," he said quietly. "Snape, we're late." Snape grumbled in his sleep. Harry gently shook his shoulder. "Wake up."

Snape groaned again and cracked his eyes open. "What?"

"Class started ten minutes ago," Harry said, prepared for an explosion.

He was not disappointed. Snape burst into curses as slammed into his room, emerging a few minutes later with a bag full of paper, Harry just barely managing to get his things together before following Snape out of the Chamber and down the hall to the classroom.

"Wait in the hall," Snape instructed. "I am not going in with you."

"Fine."

Harry wasn't expecting to get points docked for being late because Snape ordered him to be, but the twenty points docked from Gryffindor proved him wrong. He sulked through the rest of the class, shooting Snape a glare as he left with Ron and Hermione. Everyone knew they were working on a potion together, it wouldn't have been strange for them to walk in together late. All that he would have to do is say they were working late on a cure and he'd be a hero. Then again, Snape absolutely refused to be seen as such, no matter how noble he was.

It was starting to get on Harry's nerves.

Then again, so were most things. His brief reprise from near insurmountable anxiety lessened with each class, and by the time he was in Gryffindor Tower for a few hours of studying between class and dinner, he was an utter wreck. Then again, so was everyone else, and any anger or resentment towards Harry was far overshadowed by the fact that N.E.W.T.s were only a few weeks away. Hermione was especially stressed, as she was taking the most classes. Neville was in the greenhouse, as he had been for the past week. He kept trying to catch the mandrakes moving from one pot to another, but all that happened was that he was caught in the middle of parties and would arrive in the shower covered in dirt and streamers made of vines, clogging the drains.

They grabbed a quick dinner before returning to the Tower. Harry left at eight, as always, and walked down to the Chamber with some trepidation. Would Snape blame him for oversleeping? Probably. Would he be upset at Harry for falling asleep on him? Quite possibly. Would Harry be resigned to chopping duties for the rest of the night, despite his mountain of homework? Almost certainly.

But none of those things were true. Snape let him study until he was done at one in the morning, at which point Harry offered to help. He chopped for another hour, until Snape sent him to bed. Harry changed into his pajamas, and stuck his head out of his curtain.

"Are you sure you don't need more help?"

"I would not be opposed to an extra set of hands, but you require sleep more than I require cherry pits," Snape said. "We have a decent supply of potion built up. I do not like the idea of running out before the end of the school year, but I am even less pleased with the idea of you failing your N.E.W.T.s."

"If you're sure."

"Quite. Now leave me alone, I'm concentrating."

Of course he was. "G'night, Snape."

28

The week before N.E.W.T.s Snape broke down and helped Harry study. He refused to give him any actual answers, but he told him when he was wrong, and helped Harry arrive at the right answer on his own. Snape stopped brewing entirely and did nothing other than grade papers and help Harry.

The night before his first N.E.W.T. Harry transformed. He threw a tantrum, repeatedly slamming himself into the wall until Snape threw a book at him, reminding him that he could still read. It hardly mattered; Harry was much too nervous to actually focus on the book, at which point Snape took it back and began quizzing him.

The two weeks of N.E.W.T.s continued the same way. Harry would study by himself until he changed, which was most of the time, and then Snape would quiz him until he turned back, and then demand he go to bed. At first Harry protested the imposed bedtime, but after a few days he was much too tired to argue.

There was a half a week gap between the end of testing and graduation. The mandrakes finally matured halfway through N.E.W.T.s, leaving the rest to Slughorn. The added strain on top of the N.E.W.T.s was almost too much, and on the second to last day of testing Neville had a breakdown and needed to be escorted to the infirmary, where he spent several hours eating chocolate and drinking calming draught.

The first day after N.E.W.T.s Slughorn completed the potion. Harry felt like he was going to throw up as he waited with Neville, Ron, Hermione and Professors Slughorn and McGonagall to make sure the potion worked.

It did. Neville actually fainted, and the rest of them were shooed out until it explained to the petrified what happened, the current day, and a brief explanation of what had happened during the year. The three friends waited outside and, when Hagrid emerged, they swarmed him. Harry wasn't the only one crying, but he was the one who had to leave quite suddenly at eight to go down to the Chamber.

The last days before graduation Harry spent as much time as possible with his friends, haunting their favorite places. The Gryffindor common room, Hagrid's hut, even the library and, once, the Astronomy Tower. Harry hadn't been so upset to return to the Chamber since he first realized he had to, and Snape had him on constant cherry halving, finely chopping leaves and milking the Inland Taipan duty to distract him.

Graduation started out much more depressing than Harry expected. The ceremony itself was fine, but the celebration after was not an enjoyable affair. All of his friends had their families, leaving him alone on his final day at Hogwarts. Harry stayed by the buffet, picking dejectedly at the cheese and crackers. Professor McGonagall came over to congratulate him, as well as Hagrid and the Weasleys, but Harry spent most of his time running over the list of people who should have been there with him. Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, his parents.

Just as he was about to slink off to somewhere he could be alone, Snape approached him.

Harry sighed. "What do you want?"

"You have performed magnificently this year," Snape said with only a hint of discomfort. "You went above and beyond anything that could have been expected from you, yet again. I—" He stammered as Harry stared at him. "You have a lot to be proud of," he said. He glanced around quickly. "You are not supposed to know until the letters go out, but you did very well on your N.E.W.T.s as well."

"Thank you," Harry said, shocked.

"I will meet you at Platform 9 3/4 and we will apparate to Spinner's End together," he said. "It will be too late to go to Grimmauld Place today, but we may go as soon as you wish."

"Okay," Harry replied.

"How—how are you?" Snape asked, sounding uncomfortable.

"Er, okay, I guess," Harry said. "I mean. Well. This is my last day here. All my friends have their families. But, y'know. Fine."

"Again, I was waiting to tell you, but if we have not discovered a cure by the start of the new school year, you will be joining me here, continuing to be my apprentice," Snape said. "I have already spoken to Minerva, and she is in favor of the idea."

Harry blinked. "Oh. Um, thanks."

"And…" He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "I know I am not a proper substitute for a family, but—I am here."

Harry stared blankly at him. "Yeah, right. Um, thanks." He paused. "Really, thank you, for everything this year. And now."

"Yes, well," Snape said. And then, very awkwardly, he pulled Harry into a half hug, one arm around his shoulder. "You are exceptional. Things will be okay."

Harry had to work to keep his jaw from dropping. "Thanks. You're pretty okay, too."

Snape flinched and pulled away. "Ever the conversationalist."

"Oh, come on," Harry said with a smile. "You hate being complimented. I was being nice."

"You are very difficult, Potter," Snape said with a sigh. "I have some last minute business to attend to. I will see you at King's Cross."

The last train ride was bittersweet. Harry, Ron and Hermione did their very best to act as though nothing was different, but there was a sad undertone to their conversation. They made plans for the summer, ignoring anything past the last day of August. Harry finally had the courage to tell them that he was going to be living at Spinner's End instead of Grimmauld Place, but both Ron and Hermione said they assumed as much, and chastised him for not saying anything sooner. As per tradition Harry bought them a huge pile of candy to share.

Harry came very close to disaster at King's Cross. They were saying goodbyes, prolonging actually leaving, giving extra hugs and repeated promises to write. The train ride had taken longer than Harry had realized, and combined with their extended farewells, it was nearly nine. Harry felt the first twinge of his change and panicked.

"I have to go," he stammered, backing up. "I love you guys, I promise to write, I'll see you at the Burrow next week." He ducked behind the brick column labeled Platform Ten and looked around desperately for Snape. He said he was going to be here, he had to be somewhere, Snape was a very punctual person, he wouldn't leave Harry waiting, not knowing the risk. Another twinge around his midsection, which started to lengthen. He was biting his cheek in agony and terror, keeping himself from outright screaming. He had a vial of the potion for his eyes in his pocket, but he was too busy panicking to remember to use it.

Then his arm was grabbed and he was compressed into apparation while changing, and that was the worst thing he had ever felt. He slammed onto the ground screaming and hissing and thrashing. After what seemed like years his body relaxed, eyes clamped shut.

"I didn't have time to take the potion," he gasped. "There's a vial in the pocket of my jeans."

Snape fetched it and fed it to Harry. "Are you okay?" Snape asked. "Apparating while you changed is perhaps the stupidest thing I have ever done, but you hardly gave me a choice."

Harry glared at him. "I hardly gave myself a choice," he hissed. "You know I can't control it. You think I liked nearly killing the entirety of King's Cross? You think I didn't spend the whole time apparating wondering if I was going to leave my tail behind, or if you'd lose your grip and drop me entirely?"

"Killing the entirety of what?" Snape asked.

"I'm not in the mood for a lesson," Harry snapped. "Where are we?"

"My basement, where do you think?" Snape said, irritated.

Harry looked around. Now that it was told to him, it was obvious. The floor, walls and ceiling were stone, there was a potions bench along one wall, a giant apothecary chest next to it, and walls and walls of bookcases. How he managed to avoid destroying something he'd never know.

"Can you make sure I'm not splinched?" Harry asked.

"You'd know if you were," Snape replied.

Harry sighed. Now that he was safe, he found he was trembling with adrenaline. "We should have planned that better," he said. "That was way too close."

"Agreed," Snape said. "Also irrelevant. It is over and done with."

Harry's heart fell as he looked around. This room was much, much smaller than the Chamber. There wouldn't be space for a common room, so to speak, or a bedroom, and he could barely move. He was still shaking, he missed his friends and Hogwarts already—he actually had been for the past few days, even while he was still there—and now he was crammed in here.

Then, in a moment of intense gratitude, he remembered that Snape had opened his home to him, however cramped the basement was. He had spent the entirety of the year brewing a potion to help him. They were friends, almost. And he had been uncharacteristically kind to him a few hours earlier at graduation. It wasn't Snape's fault if he didn't have a basement large enough to accommodate a fifty-foot deadly snake. He curled himself up as if he wanted to rather than because there wasn't room for him to stretch out.

"This is good," he said, keeping his hisses optimistic. "It could use a heat lamp."

Snape had to stifle a smile. "This is my potions lab, Harry, not where you will be staying. Through that arch is your—your snake room, I suppose. Your human room is upstairs."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling dim. "Right."

He slithered into the other room and relaxed. The room was huge, more than capable of holding him. The ceiling was radiating heat, as was a large fireplace on one wall. The living room setup in front of the fireplace was identical to that in the Chamber, with the exception of the floating window. Instead the entirety of one of the walls was a huge picture window, looking out on a scene Harry recognized from Snape's memories. The tree at the side of the lake where he had shown Lily how he could turn leaves into birds, only instead of bright and sunny it was raining, and enchanted well enough that Harry could hear the tapping of the drops on the window.

"Snape, this is brilliant. Thank you so much."

"Hopefully you will not be needing it for long," Snape said. "I have been doing research, and I have a good idea of where to start on the potion that will let you control your changes."

Harry swished his tail over Snape's feet. "Thank you," he repeated.

"We will begin brewing tomorrow," Snape said. "I am exhausted; I have not gotten a full night's sleep in months. If you wake before me, you are welcome to acquaint yourself with my home. My secrets guard themselves."

"Sleep well," Harry said, curling in front of the fireplace.

"And yourself."

Harry's first night at Spinner's End was as good as it could be, and maybe even a bit better than that.

29

Harry was woken up by his change at the unfortunately early hour of four. He curled up on one of the couches and dozed for another hour before giving up on more sleep. Feeling very much like an intruder Harry left his room and started his exploration.

Nothing was surprising. The potions lab was nicer than the one at Hogwarts, which was the most exciting thing he saw. The first floor had a kitchen, a dining room, a living room and a door that wouldn't open. He didn't want to go upstairs lest he wake Snape so he settled in the kitchen, scrambling eggs, feeling like he was stealing the whole time. He washed the dishes and put them back as soon as he was done, trying to make as small an impact as possible.

He went back down to the basement and settled on one of the couches. He knew Snape had brought his luggage over the day before but had no idea where it was. He didn't think he'd know what to do even if he had his things. Last summer had been filled with summer reading, hanging out at the Burrow, and spending a great deal of time trying to come to terms with the war.

But now? Now he had no idea. Harry supposed a part of him had still been expecting a proper job at the Ministry, but it finally sunk in that wasn't going to happen. Not only was it not going to happen, but the job he didn't have wouldn't even take up his time. So he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

It wasn't very interesting.

Snape came down an hour later and sat on the other couch. "Did you just wake?"

"No, I've been up since five," Harry said. "I made eggs, I hope that's okay. I cleaned all the dishes and put them back."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You are living here, Harry. You are welcome to eat."

Harry flushed. When put that way, it seemed obvious. "I would have made some for you, but I didn't know when you'd be up, or how you like your eggs."

Snape frowned. "Is this a product of your life with the Dursleys?"

Harry stared back, just as confused. "Is what?"

"I have opened my house to you," Snape said. "You live here. You are allowed to eat, to leave the basement, to occupy yourself beyond staring at my ceiling. In fact, as my apprentice, it would behoove you to familiarize yourself with my potions library. Have you at least arranged your room to your liking?"

"I didn't want to wake you up," Harry said, feeling a little foolish. "I stayed downstairs."

"Come then," Snape said, leaving no room for discussion. Harry nearly fell off the couch in his haste to follow him. He was led upstairs and halfway down the hallway to a room on the left. Snape stood just outside the door. "Go ahead."

Harry tentatively opened the door and gasped. It was like stepping into the Gryffindor dorms. The bed was decked out in red and gold, the furniture nearly identical, his trunk at the foot of his bed. "Snape, I—"

"There is nothing to say," he interrupted. "I won't have you moping about all summer in a house that feels as foreign to you as the Chamber of Secrets. You may do anything you like, but I thought I would give you a start."

Harry couldn't do more than stare blankly at the room. This was a side of Snape that he had only glimpsed, and only when he was at his absolute lowest and needed to be cheered up. Doing something like this of his own volition, purely to be nice—that was unheard of. He wondered what Ron or Neville would think if they saw this. He wondered what his father would have thought. Would he be happy "Snivellus" was treating his son so well, or would he still hold a grudge?

"May we continue on, or are you going to stand there gawping for the rest of the day?"

That was much more familiar. "I can—I'm good, we can—what are we doing?"

"I thought you would be eager to begin the potion to control your changes," Snape replied, leading them back to the basement. "Unless you require more time to settle in."

"I'm good," Harry repeated. "You said you had an idea of where to start?"

"Indeed. You shall read my research and familiarize yourself with the theory and ingredients," Snape said. "I should have had you do that with the other potion, but that is in the past. It is obscure, because the spells are meant for transfiguration and not potions, but there is information on curing human transfiguration. We will start there. Rather, I will start there, and you will study."

Of course he would. "Okay."

They were back in the potions lab, and Snape handed him a pile of books. "Read the marked passages."

Harry sighed a little. "Yeah, sure."

The familiar sound of Snape collecting ingredients, and then, "The first potion, the one for your eyes, it needs a name. We managed without but now that there are two, it is a requirement. I do not wish to be turned to stone due to a miscommunication."

Harry looked up from his book, grateful for the distraction. The book was written in Middle English, and he could barely read it. "Okay," he said.

"It is your potion, you may name it as you see fit."

Harry stared at him. "But you invented it. It should be up to you."

"I have invented a great many potions," Snape replied. "If you do not wish to, I am sure I can come up with something suitable."

"No, no, I will," Harry stammered. He considered. "Hermione taught me some Latin, and I'm not great, but maybe Oculos something?"

Snape nodded. "Oculos Ius has a ring to it."

Harry frowned. "Sorry, what's Ius?"

He could tell Snape was rolling his eyes, even with his back turned. "Elixir, Potter. I would expect you to know that."

"Sorry," Harry muttered, returning to his book.

After a few moments, Snape asked, "Well?"

Harry looked up again. "Well what?"

"Have we agreed upon Oculos Ius?"

"Yeah," Harry said, surprised. Snape was treating him as an equal, almost. "I mean, no one other than us will know about it, but I like it."

He could hear the smile in Snape's voice. "Very true. No less important, though. Now get back to reading."

Harry snorted quietly. Equals indeed.