Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any material or idea falling under that trademark. I have read extensive amounts of fanfiction, and any resemblence to any other works is unintentional. This is a work of fiction from which I make no profit. This story contains material that some may find offensive or disturbing. There are warnings for that reason. Please read the warnings and utilize your right to NOT read if any of these are a problem for you. I cannot be held responsible for those who ignore them. This story has not been beta-read.
Warnings: slash, male/male, Snarry or SSHP, creaturefic, clichéd, crackish, and chan in some countries (Harry is 17).
A/N: Aaand my "don't post it until it's finished" rule has just been shot to hell. This story is a work in progress, however, it has a very detailed outline. I expect it to be 10-12 chapters long. The goal (GOAL, not promise, mind you) is to post a chapter every Friday by 11:59 PM EST. This story will also be posted to my account at the Archive of Our Own. This is a seventh-year fic that ignores the events of HBP. Concrit is more than welcome.
This story is for Luna, with the hope that it will make her laugh, and at least partially make up for the entertainment lost because of my absence.
Chapter 1: The Inexplicable Behavior of Mrs. Petunia Dursley
His orders were perfectly clear. They were, in fact, so completely and utterly precise that Severus Snape, a master at exploiting loopholes, could find no way around his uncomfortable and entirely unwanted duty. Still, approaching the house, Severus glanced down at the paper.
Arrive at the residence of Harry Potter, student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, at precisely half past noon on July 23rd of the year in which aforementioned student comes of age. Tutor student in preparation for his Coming of Age, and ensure that preparation is complete prior to the event, regardless of personal biases. Bring said student to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix immediately upon completion of his transition. During the time period necessary for the transition, preparation, and recovery, do not leave the student, Harry Potter, alone, or with any person, muggle or magical, for any period of time exceeding a literal nanosecond.
Severus was confused by the final directive, but chalked it up to paranoia on the Headmaster's part, and the presumptive ignorance of wizarding custom on the part of the entire household.
Severus glared distastefully at the manicured lawns of Privet Drive. He thrived on order, yes, but this was order taken a bit too far. Sneering at the picket fence of Number 4, he strode into the yard, approached the door, and rang the doorbell. As he waited for an answer he reflected that at the very least he would have the opportunity to torment and instill some discipline in the useless Gryffindor, if the boy's reckless insubordination didn't drive him mad first.
The door opened.
The woman had a face like a horse. An unattractive nag, really, Severus thought coolly, and she looked the type to nag as well. Severus blinked at her disbelievingly for a moment. Could this be Lily's sister? The woman before him bore little resemblance to the woman he'd once fancied himself in love with, before he'd grown up and realized where his tastes really lay.
"Yes?" Petunia Dursley asked, glancing at his case. "If you're here to sell something, we're not interested, you should try Number 8, Mrs. Howard will buy anything—"
Severus cut her off before the woman's whine could further insinuate itself into his ear. "I am not here to sell anything, Mrs. Dursley. I am Professor Severus Snape, here to speak to your nephew, Mr. Potter."
Petunia blanched, and her eyes grew very wide. "There's no one of that name here, Mr. Snape, I'm sorry, you have the wrong address—" Her voice was nervous and too quick, and Severus slid a foot in the door as she attempted to close it in his face.
"You are Mrs. Vernon Dursley, née Petunia Evans, and your nephew, Harry Potter, is a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where I am a professor. I am in no way mistaken in the address."
Petunia gaped horribly and released the door. Severus took his opportunity to enter, closing the door behind him so as to block Petunia's escape. Her eyes were darting every which way, and Severus was mildly amused by her fear. It also confirmed his theory that the Boy-Who-Lived was spoiled by his relatives, who obviously felt threatened by his abilities (though in Severus' opinion, he had next to none).
Severus continued. "You will recall, Mrs. Dursley, that on the occasion of your sister's seventeenth birthday, she was visited by a teacher to assist her through the transition involved with her Coming of Age. I am here to do the same for your nephew. I am admittedly a bit earlier than normal, but Mr. Potter requires instruction on the matter, as he was near-comatose and in the Hospital Wing when the subject was covered in class."
He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes to one o'clock. He'd been at the Dursley residence a quarter of an hour and seen nor hide nor hair of Potter. Throwing a sneer at Petunia, he took up his lecture again. "Your nephew's transition will begin on his birthday. I will probably take him a full week to recover. I will impose upon your hospitality until Mr. Potter's recovery is complete. My instructions are to then remove him from your house, and I cannot say, after that, when you will see him again."
Petunia was muttering something under her breath. Severus caught the words "neighbors think," "freak," "never see," and "too soon."
Severus had one thing left to say. "I shall endeavor to disrupt your routine as little as possible, though due to restrictions on underage magic, I shall join you at mealtimes until after the transition."
Petunia gaped again. "But—"
Severus had already swept out of the foyer and begun to inspect the house. It was as austere and obsessively clean as the neighborhood lawns. He inspected the kitchen. Clean, well-equipped for a muggle kitchen, although some of the items in the refrigerator and pantry were so over-processed as to turn his stomach at the thought of eating them. The dining room was plain, the good china neatly displayed in a glass cabinet, and a fine wooden liquor cabinet tucked neatly under the sideboard. The living room was likewise neat and orderly, though the frozen photographs irritated Severus. They all seemed to be of a blond boy so fat as to be barely recognizable as a boy and not some engorged animal. There were no pictures of Potter, and Severus didn't blame Mrs. Dursley for that—he wouldn't want photos of Potter in his living room either—even if her taste was otherwise so mundanely cliché and tacky as to give him a headache.
Severus is sure that Potter will be more of a headache.
That thought brings his mind back to his instructions, and with an internal sigh, he admits he needs to find Potter. He pays no heed to the horsey woman following him at all. "Potter!" he calls out sharply.
There is no answer. Petunia Dursley is clutching her immaculate white apron so hard that her knuckles are turning white. Severus does not notice.
"Potter!" Severus snaps again.
This time, when he receives no reply, he whirls to interrogate Petunia.
"Would you like tea?" the woman asks, nonsensically, before Severus can demand Potter's whereabouts.
Severus is about to release a scathing retort when he hears the hoot of an owl. He spins on his heel again and marches up the stairs.
The owl leads him to the door at the very end of the hall, where three heavy locks hold the door shut. Severus wishes he could lock Potter in the Gryffindor dormitory during the school year, though knowing Potter it wouldn't do much good.
Severus turned, and as expected, discovered Petunia hovering behind him worriedly. "Open it," he commanded, and Petunia, trembling, obeyed.
The door swung open to reveal the owl, who clicked her beak at him reprovingly.
"Hush," Severus told her. "I came when I heard you, did I not?"
The owl clicked again, and ruffled her feathers.
Severus scanned the rest of the room (a mess, books and clothing everywhere) and located Potter on the bed.
The boy was sleeping with his back to the door, curled up around himself. Of the skin that was bare to Severus' eyes (the boy's shoulderblades and the back of his right arm, Severus could see bruising, and there was actually a rather nasty cut on his arm.
Severus' lip curled. "Potter!" he snapped out, and the boy jerked awake, scrambling to pull a shirt off the floor and pull it over his head, snatch his glasses and stand up. It was at this point that he noticed Severus.
"Professor Snape?" the boy gaped.
"Unable to stay out of trouble even with Muggles, Potter?" Severus spat. He noted that the boy's right eye was blackened. "How do you expect to prepare for your Coming of Age in such an appalling state?"
"My what?"
It was Severus' turn to gape, although he stopped himself just in time. He was about to deliver another scathing comment, when a tremor shook the house, and a childish, nasally voice rang out:
"MUUUUUUM!"
