Harry had to admit, the store looked bigger than he thought, as he entered the shop he felt the warmth over took his unusually flushed cheeks, spinner's end was oddly cold for this time of year. It was summer after all. He shuddered.
The store was empty, with only an old woman sitting behind the counter, knitting , and humming in a disoriented tune, it oddly reminded Harry of a horror movie, but he shrugged the scene off and rubbed his palms together.
He smiled politely when the woman looked at him and grabbed a basket quickly, running possible recipes in his mind as he wandered around the aisles. Maybe something quick and tasty...
Before thinking about recipes, he should perhaps get some cleaning equipment, the house looked filthy, and Harry out right refused to work in a kitchen like that. Even if it was for himself. He huffed, and grabbed a pair of kitchen gloves, (he would need it for doing the dishes anyway) and put them in the basket. He then pondered over the familiar dish detergent marks aunt Petunia often used, and after some thinking grabbed the best, he knew which cleaned better by experience. As the Dursleys unofficial Servant he knew a lot of things that a normal fifteen year old, almost sixteen year old, shouldn't. Not that he got any credit for any of his works, that was aunt Petunias job. He thought bitterly, shaking his head.
The woman's humming got on his nerves, seeing as the store wasn't that big, and she was singing rather loudly, the eerie feeling settled in Harry's chest uncomfortably as he went through his head. A bad neighborhood with cracked pot people, how very... Snape_ish.
He just had to start with the basics, he thought as a way to distract himself, picking up some bread, followed by olive oil and some basic spices. He had no idea how much would it cost, all of the ingredients and the cleaning equipment, but he absolutely hated empty kitchens, he would just pay Snape back if he made a fuss about it. He picked up butter and eggs next, knowing that cooking would be fairly impossible without the two ingredients.
He then went to the vegetables and fruit area, all smashed together, lined against the wall, and not wrapped in any kind of containers he was rather used to back at home. They looked fresh enough so Harry just kneeled down to examine them closer.
To Harry's utter surprise, the vegetables /were/ fresh, he smiled, happily smelling the leeks. He put a decent amount in his basket and then went for the spinach, he already knew what he was going to make tonight, and his stomach seemed quite content with the idea.
The raven haired boy didn't notice the old woman watching him enthusiastically picking up and sniffing vegetables, smiling as he put them in his basket. The old woman smiled, her face wrinkled and her grin mostly toothless.
The grin increased as she saw him murmur under his breath, picking up a package of shrimps. He was probably new. The woman thought and picked up her humming.
Harry felt eyes burning on the back of his neck, but didn't say anything, he was nearly finished anyway, and it wouldn't do any good if he just gave a bad first impression, he was going to live here for two years after all. A very long two years, it already seemed like.
His skin seemed overly pale and clammy under the fluorescent lights, flickering every now and then, and the hunger was really getting to him. He yet had to get to spices, his favorite part. But the hunger won over, sighing sadly the green eyed boy made his way to the counter, a full basket in his hands.
"Good evening."
"Why hello young man! you look new." she exclaimed, putting her knitting needles away. Harry smiled politely, tight lipped and a little awkward as he pushed the basket over the desk.
"Yes I am, ma'am."
"And what a gentleman! When did you move in?" she looked genuinely interested in what he had to say. Harry stuttered. Should he tell her anything?
"I.. Um, I just moved in. With Professor Snape, ma'am ." he felt the need to explain it to her apparently, he had no idea why he seemed frightened earlier, the woman looked fairly harmless up close. And kind, he thought.
"Professor Snape?! Good gracious! I had no idea he had a son!" the woman said incredulously, putting Harry's groceries in plastic bags swiftly. Harry felt his mouth drop open, and his eyes bulge.
"Uh...No! I... I mean... I'm not..his... He's not.. My father." he finished lamely, cramming his hand in his pocket to get the money, his cheeks flushed in shame.
"Oh, he's your uncle then?" the woman asked curiously, grinning at him. Harry bit the inside of his cheek, hard.
"No, I'm... His student, I'll be staying with him for a while." Harry twiddled with hem of his shirt, clearing his throat awkwardly.
"Are you his apprentice? I thought he was in chemistry?" she frowned in confusion.
Harry pursed his lips, breathing deeply. "No. I'm not a chemistry student."
"Oh I figured though, you look like a cook." she handed him the plastics and bent over her calculator. Harry thought this was odd, but didn't say anything. He shifted on his foot, and grabbed the plastics out of boredom.
The money Snape had put out for him earlier was generous enough, and Harry even managed to save some as he paid. He nodded as the old woman bid him a good day and got out of the store. He had no idea what the time was, but his stomach was getting impatient, Harry half walked, half jogged his way back to the house, before he realized that he didn't have a key.
He paused. Great, just great. He thought sarcastically, but pushed past the gate. If he was lucky, perhaps Snape had shown enough mercy to leave the door open for him.
Snape hadn't even got out of his labs it seemed, the house was pretty much the same as Harry had left it earlier. Heaving a sigh, the boy who lived, put the groceries on the table and shrugged off his sweater.
He pushed up his sleeves and sorted out the cleaning equipment before getting to the groceries.
All went straight to the cupboard under the sink, he would've started cleaning tonight, but he was way too hungry to wait and it seemed rather late anyways, thankfully the fridge seemed clean enough, so Harry put the food after cleaning them with a wet rag. He didn't know if it was his obsession, or aunt Petunia drilling it in his mind for years, but he couldn't put anything in the fridge without cleaning it first, it was a good habit he supposed, to be clean, but a little over the top in his opinion.
Now... To make some pasta... Harry smiled and cracked his fingers, immediately going to his cooking mode. He danced around the kitchen, taking out pots and pans and setting them other stove, working swiftly and rhythmically, he took out a sharp looking knife out of the drawer and started cutting the ingredients expertly.
Ever since he was four Harry was forced into cooking for his relatives, even though he couldn't even reach the stove or the sink, the kitchen was his responsibility, Harry had numerous burns on the palm of his hands, to prove how many times he had burned Uncle Vernon's breakfast, or countless white little scars on his fingers that indicated each time he cut his fingers with a knife. After a while, cooking came to him like second nature. Something he did as easily as he breathed, the kitchen became his safe haven after the cupboard. No one bothered him there, even Petunia didn't spend time in the kitchen when he was in there cooking, when the storm hit, Vernon wouldn't dare to throw him out of the house like he usually did, when he was in the kitchen.
Harry sighed, chopping the leeks with his eyes semi closed. Life was hard on him lately. He had lost Sirius just months ago, his passion for cooking was the only thing keeping him intact. Until now that he was forced to live here.
Harry set his knife down and peered over the boiling pot. Yup, he thought, time to add the shells.
He added a spoonful salt to the water and then carefully emptied the shells in the pot, leaving them to boil.
This recipe was one of his favorites, it was quick and delicious, and despite other foods similar to this one, it didn't mess up with his appetite. Ever since he lived with Weaselys since Sirius went on missions, there wasn't really the time to express himself, to let go of his burden by losing himself in cooking. Molly was there, her kitchen was off limits for him and he knew that. And she was still mad at him for endangering both his son and youngest daughter, almost killing them in his wild goose chase.
Harry didn't dare to insult her by offering his help, or looking into her eyes for quite some time. So cooking again, cooking like /this /, all by himself in solitude. It was comforting, beautifully familiar. Harry relaxed in his slow and peaceful pace, cleaning the shrimps and stirring the spinach on the stove, he thought maybe he should do a desert to celebrate, and to make up for his lost butterscotch at Dumbledore's office, but thought against it again.
Pomfrey would know if he was sugar high, and would undoubtedly scold him for it. It didn't worth it though.
His diet was certainly a complicated one, first of all it wasn't for his weight. In fact, it was to help him, gain weight, at least enough to match his height. But eating too many sweets turned out to be the wrong thing to do, it took Pomfrey two hours to get him out of his sugar hyper mania. From then on, it was decided, that for Harry's own health, and the other's safety that Harry only had limited access to any kinds of sweets or sugar.
What a ridiculous notion, Harry mused. Cutting out the shrimp's head and detaching its legs swiftly. The heavy smell of butter and fried spinach over powered the heavy odor of dust resting in the kitchen. Harry cleaned the shrimps one by one and washed them again.
Would Snape like his cooking? Or would he make fun of him like he had in potions? Harry might let the man attack him with his harsh words in his classes, but this was different. The man was his guardian now, it meant that Severus Snape could do anything he wanted with Harry. And Harry sure as hell would not just sit there and let the man spit out abuse.
Thankfully, or not, Dumbledore had promised to visit him time to time, and the Weasleys would most likely notice if he didn't show up when the school, started again. He hoped.
Harry stirred the spinach and added the shrimps, he stirred them for a while before taking sieve out of the cupboard.
After finishing up the pasta Harry went for the sauce, stirred the frying pan, and added the leeks.
His mouth was watering with the scent and his stomach was grunting for food. Harry spared himself and picked up a shrimp before popping it in his mouth. His mouth burned with scalding hot sea food in his mouth but he gave it no mind and chewed.
He was so lost in his cooking that he didn't notice a dark figure stalking by the door, Harry hummed under his breath, tapping his foot and stirring the food mindlessly.
Severus felt the nauseating scent of food assault his nostrils and paused by the doorway. He wrinkled his nose, pulling a face. Was that Potter in the kitchen?! He stalked to the door, looking at the silhouette dancing and humming, stirring something on the stove.
He immediately felt the hate rushing in his veins, arrogant, and dimwitted! an imbecile! That's what Potter was. Idiotic and halfwitted, just like his swine of a father. Severus sneered, and turned around. He would most certainly not, enter that kitchen with that awful smell, or with Potter in it. He could take another nutrition potion for tonight.
He didn't think that he would mind Potter's presence in his home that much, he was in his labs all day, and he was positive that Potter would do anything to stay out of his way. Now however, with that smell, and the full kitchen, or with Potter's door ajar upstairs. Severus found that he /did/ in fact mind it. Not here for even three hours and that brat was roaming around the house as if he owned it. Severus snarled, slamming his door shut. Damn Potter!
Just like his father, Severus thought with disdain and flicked his wand, casting an air conditioning spell in his room. The smell of food was everywhere. And Severus sure as hell couldn't concentrate with Potter making a racket in the kitchen all night.
He flexed his hands and started undoing his robes buttons one by one ; today had been long, exhausting, and as boring as it was yesterday, or the day before that. He had nothing to do anyways, aside from making potions and reading books, which now he couldn't do with Potter all over his house. He would just have to lock himself in his lab all day to avoid the brat. The only thing he /was/ thankful for, was Potter's ability to look after himself, because Severus sure as hell would have not cooked for the boy, or done his laundry.
With a depressed sigh, the potion master picked up his potion journal and made an entry. He was working on an improved version of the nutrients potion for a few months, trying to improve it so the user could last a whole week without food, only with one dose. It deemed to be difficult, even for someone as talented as Severus. He had to complete the potion however, because more than anyone, this potion was for himself.
In his line of work, spying and potion making alike, food was not a necessity, it was often a privilege.
A privilege that Severus was deprived of while working under the dark Lord for years, and then switching to brewing potions. It didn't matter that much to him, after a while the food tasted like sawdust anyway, and Severus often found himself wrinkling his nose at the mere thought of it, and only ate out of obligation as to not make Albus suspect anything.
To anyone else, it wouldn't have mattered, this small problem of his, but to Albus, his only mentor and father figure it would matter. And he would be out of job the moment the old man found out, he even accepted to take Potter in as a way to sway Albus's suspicious away for some time, at least until the boy was seventeen... Half an hour later, he was still hearing Potter bustling about in the kitchen, some part of him wanted to go down and see what was the brat up to, but the bigger part warned him that the smell of food would still linger in there, and so he sat behind his desk, and only seethed inwardly.
The kitchen was a mess. Harry thought, after eating his fill, Harry put another plate out for Snape in a plastic container he had scrubbed clean earlier. And put it in the fridge, the food as always was delicious, and Harry even stored some extra shrimps for the man while wrapping it away. The short teen, then proceeded to wash the dishes and the sink.
He would've left the rest for tomorrow morning, but found himself not tired enough to go to bed, or energized enough to finish his homework. Harry got rid of his jumper and took out the cleaning equipment.
To everyone's bewilderment, Harry did not mind cleaning as long as he was paid in the end, at the Dursleys, he was normally rewarded with a small bird portion of his own food, every other day.
At the Weasleys, when he wasn't serving them as a punishment, he was later on rewarded with a plate of cookies that he shared with Ron later in his room. Technically, he wouldn't be paid for cleaning out Snape's kitchen, and didn't think of it as slavery, he would only clean /his/ kitchen, and /his/ room, because he lived in them. As easy as that, Snape could rot in the house all he wanted, but Harry refused to live in a dump.
After ten years of living in a filthy cupboard with spiders as his roommates, or living in Dudley's second bedroom for five years after that, Harry had been taught to be grateful for anything, but this house, even by Harry's standards, needed a /lot/ of work.
The furniture itself looked worn out but well kept, it was the grim and the whole dark aura thing that irritated Harry. Sure, he and Ron had imagined Snape sleeping in dungeons, or in a coffin, but to see his house looking like this...
Harry knew the professors at Hogwarts were well paid, and Snape was a potion master himself, which he had learned from Hermione that it was a wealthy and almost rare job. Snape could've afforded a house three times bigger than this in a good neighborhood easily. But he didn't. Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead and sat still for a second, the dusty rag was in his glove covered hands, and his hair was a little wet sticking to his face. There must have been a reason. Harry concluded, looking around the house.
Snape was either too lazy to clean up the mess, or he just didn't care. Harry frowned, but even so, a house elf could've done this in an hour. And debit that fact, the Spinner's end looked like a junkie hideout.
Harry sighed and shook his head, with a last gaze around the kitchen Harry resumed his work until his eyes were drooping. The teen checked his watch. He had waited for three hours for Snape to come up and eat his dinner. Now it was ten o cloak, and Harry was beat. There was no other option, Harry reasoned with himself and got the plastic container out of the fridge. He set the food on the newly cleaned table with a note, and left for the bathroom.
After a hot scalding shower the short boy made his way to his tiny bedroom and closed the door, his shoulders and neck ached and his fingers looked ready to fall off, tiredly he grabbed some clothes out of his trunk and fell on his bed with Hermione's quilt, with a groan.
He thanked merlin that at least the bed sheets smelled clean, and his pillow did not look out of sorts, otherwise he would've slept in his wardrobe. Hermione's mellow perfume filled his head as he wrapped the quilt around his shoulders before settling in.
It was comforting, to have a piece of his friend, there with him after such an exhausting day. Harry snorted, he hadn't even seen Snape yet and he was this tired. Merlin help him. He only had 364 days to go to be seventeen. Not that long. Harry thought, trying to comfort himself.
Not long at all. He eventually drifted into an uneasy slumber.
