The boy had complied instantly with Snape's terse order to "heave his carcass through the door". He stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, twitching with uncertainty as the older man dragged his trunk and owl into the house. If house it could be called. It was more of a rundown shack, but it was still ten times better than Privet Drive as far as he was concerned, simply because his relatives were not in residence. Even Snape was better than them. He hoped.
His professor shut the door, and turned to look at his new charge. Apparently that brash Gryffindor bravery only lasted the school year. Harry Potter was still in the spot Snape had left him, his eyes downcast, and his fists clenched at his sides, his entire body stiff.
"Right." Snape muttered, as he scrubbed his face with his hands. "I'm too hungover for this." He stomped over to the kitchen, retrieved a hangover cure from his cupboards, and slammed the doors. Harry flinched. Snape caught the motion as he turned around. He eyed the boy for a moment, then sighed and downed the potion.
"Your relatives didn't tell you where they were taking you, did they?" Snape grumbled. "I suppose you wouldn't have gotten in the car if they had."
Harry looked up and shook his head.
"Verbal answers, if you please." Snape snapped.
"No sir. They just told me to pack my things and get in the car. Then we came here." Harry mumbled. "Where is here sir?"
"Spinner's End, Cokeworth. Your mother and your aunt grew up here." Snape growled. Might as well tell the boy, he figured, as short of obliviation he wasn't going to be able to explain away how Petunia knew him and where to find him.
Harry smirked. "I bet aunt Petunia hates that she came from here."
Snape's lip twitched.
The boy's eyes abruptly widened when he realized he was also insulting his most volatile professor's place of residence. "Sorry sir. . . ! I didn't mean -"
"No, you're right boy, it's a shithole." Snape grimaced.
Harry gaped up at him.
Snape ignored his student's shock. He moved to the owl cage, and opened the door, letting Hedwig out. She hooted appreciatively and flew to perch on the dusty mantle above the small fireplace. He stared at the owl for a minute, trying to regain his tenuous grip on reality. Mornings were always hard. Except it was afternoon. . . Whatever. Regardless, he was suffering from a hangover and currently had Harry Bloody Potter, boy-who-lived-to-be-a-pain-in-his-side standing in the living room of his childhood dwelling, right in the bull's-eye of a morass of memories and history he hadn't wanted the boy to know.
Plus, it appeared his previous perception of the boy was false, if the way he had been treated when his dearest family dumped him on the porch was any indication of his life so far. That added a nice frosting of guilt for the cake of reality.
"Sir?" Came a timid voice.
Snape sighed. "Yes?"
"I. . . Thought most purebloods. . . Didn't live so closely with muggles, sir?" Harry was peering cautiously through his fringe again, apparently wary of the reaction to his question.
Polite way to ask why he lives in a muggle slum, Severus supposed.
"I'm a halfblood like you, boy." The man snapped.
The boy's eyes - Lily's eyes, bright green eyes - widened again. Snape turned his head back to look at the now napping owl, trying to control the confusing mix of anguish, guilt, and hate swirling in his gut at seeing those eyes in that face in this house. . . And a strange wistfulness.
Snape snorted to himself. He'd better stay off the sauce while the boy was stuck here. This much alcohol induced self pity and introspective moping couldn't be healthy. He knew he would have been a shit father anyway. No point in thinking about what could have been.
"Was your mum a muggleborn too?" Harry queried.
Snape shook himself, and snorted. "M' mum was a pureblood witch of the name of Prince. Married a muggle."
Harry raised his eyebrows. Snape cut off the inevitable advent of more questions by ripping his wand out of his shirt sleeve and levitating Harry's trunk up the staircase, and jogging after it. The boy followed hesitantly.
Severus kicked open the door to his childhood bedroom, and it hit the wall with a satisfying crack. Behind him, he saw the boy jump and fold his arms comfortingly around himself. The boy looked around the nearly empty room. Only a small chest of drawers and a rickety single mattress filled the space.
"You can stay here until we contact Dumbledore." Snape grumbled. "I'll go get some linens." The man stomped out of the room, and the trunk fell to the wooden boards with a thud.
