Chapter 11 4th - 5th May 1996
Harry ducked as a curse flew over his head, dodging to the right to avoid the one he knew would follow close behind. As expected, a hex hit right where his head had just been. Snape was becoming predictable, Harry realised. Since Harry had had no trouble achieving OWL standard in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Snape had decided on a more practical way to spend the lessons. The first few duels had been quick with Snape easily defeating Harry. However, Harry was a quick learner and a keen observer. The duels were now much longer and having spent so much time watching Snape, Harry was beginning to gain some insight into Snape's duelling technique. He dropped behind the sofa, catching his breath as he rapidly considered his options.
Whichever way he looked at it Snape definitely had the advantage. He was employing non-verbal spells, which meant Harry had no warning as to what spell was hurtling his way. Although he doubted Snape would hit him with anything lethal, that didn't mean he particularly wanted to be on the receiving end of the hexes. On a few occasions he'd had to drop suddenly or employ a hasty shield charm to avoid spells. Plus Snape had a huge arsenal of hexes and curses at his command which meant Harry was dealing with spells he had never encountered before. In one lesson Snape had hit Harry with a hex that somehow glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth. That had effectively ended the duel as Harry had had no idea what spell had been used against him and since he had yet to learn non-verbal spells he'd been helpless. Snape had left him like that for half an hour to 'teach him the benefits of non-verbal casting', much to Harry's chagrin.
Harry also suspected Snape was employing Legilimency occasionally which meant Harry stood next to no chance of getting something past Snape's defences. What he really needed was a distraction, he thought. An idea occurred to him, and if Snape was where he thought he was it might just work. If it did Snape would never see it coming – he'd beaten Harry so many times now that Harry suspected he wasn't really taking the duels seriously. It also helped that Snape believed Harry capable only of "Gryffindor rashness" as he put it.
'Kindly desist from cowering behind the sofa, Potter,' Snape said in a bored voice. 'Not all of us can afford to lounge about all day.'
Harry knew he had seconds to put his plan into action. He'd been stationary for too long and if he didn't act soon Snape would become suspicious. Lying flat on his stomach, he peered under the sofa, gauging Snape's position. He was standing exactly where Harry expected. Grinning to himself, Harry whispered 'Locomotor table' and silently repositioned the rickety table so that it was now next to Snape. He crouched quietly on the balls of his feet, before glancing at his discarded textbook which sat on the armchair beside Snape. His movement attracted Snape's attention and a silent hex flew over Harry's head as he rolled to the right. As he rolled he cried out 'Accio!'
A momentary look of confusion crossed Snape's face before he realised what Harry had done. Snape turned a second too late, distracted as he was by Harry's movement. Harry's summoning spell had been stronger than he'd anticipated. Instead of just calling his own textbook, several books were now hurtling towards him at a rapid speed. He didn't allow that to faze him though as he calmly watched Snape.
Snape seemed to have realised that he'd turned too slowly to stop the books and so he did the only thing he could – which was precisely what Harry had expected: he attempted to dodge the books. And in doing so Snape stepped sideways to where he thought there was a clear space. Instead he stumbled backwards over the table, hands flying out as he attempted to right himself. Snape didn't fall completely; instead he was confusedly leaning against the table – a scowl on his face. Harry seized on Snape's temporary uncertainty, expertly countering the Accio before raising his wand at Snape.
'Expelliarmus!' he cried.
He watched with satisfaction as Snape's wand flew from a horrified Snape's hand straight into Harry's waiting hand. As he caught Snape's wand, he realised that he'd perhaps been a little too enthusiastic with the spell. It seemed his Expelliarmus had hit Snape squarely in the chest and knocked him backwards. Snape was now sprawled on the ground in an undignified heap. He looked up at Harry in shock, an irate scowl in place. The scowl didn't quite reach Snape's eyes though and Harry noted with relief. In fact, if he looked closely the man seemed almost pleased, and most definitely amused by the situation. Harry realised belatedly that he'd been staring at Snape and moved forward to offer him a hand up.
'I guess I win,' Harry offered happily, as he lent forward. 'Sorry about the books...and knocking you over.'
Snape simply scowled further at the approaching Harry before pulling himself up quickly and standing to face the teen. Snape held out his hand imperiously to Harry, who wordlessly handed over the wand. Harry sighed to himself as Snape made no comment, instead gazing steadily at Harry – a definite hint of amusement in his eyes.
If Snape had won the duel he would have heard no end of it, Harry thought to himself. He did allow himself a small smile in victory though as he recalled the way Snape had looked sprawled out on the floor. He turned away from Snape, moving to clear up the mess he'd made with the books. It was only as he heard the rustle of Snape's sleeve as he bought his wand to bear that Harry realised his mistake.
'Stupefy!' Snape whispered smugly.
The spell hit Harry in the square of his back, knocking him forward. Helpless to stop himself falling, darkness clouded his vision as he lost consciousness. The last thing he was aware of was a pair of strong hands catching him as he fell.
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Snape easily caught the boy as he fell. He'd had half a mind to just let him fall, but at the last minute he'd instinctively stepped forward and caught him. The boy's lanky form was now slumped unconscious in Snape's arms. Snape huffed to himself before picking the boy up easily and depositing him on the sofa. He found himself studying Potter's unguarded expression. Asleep, he looked less like James Potter, his expression carefree. Unconsciously his hand moved to rest lightly on the boy's forehead.
'Not just a rash Gryffindor then Potter,' he murmured to the boy, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 'Who'd have thought you capable of thinking like a Slytherin?'
Potter stirred slightly and Snape started, realising that his hand had been resting on Potter's forehead. He pulled his hand back quickly, shoving it into his pocket. He remained staring at the boy for a second longer, wondering why he wasn't more horrified to have found himself comforting a Potter. He turned sharply, shoving his thoughts away, and preceded to the kitchen to start lunch.
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Harry looked around him groggily as consciousness returned; for a moment confused as to where he was. He sat up on the sofa, which was when he recalled that he'd been duelling Snape. He'd beaten the man only to have been stunned by him as he turned away. As he shifted he noticed a slight tender area in the small of his back. He reached round and prodded the area, eliciting a wince. A bruise must have formed from where Snape's stunning spell had hit him he realised. He was surprised that was the only injury he'd sustained, given he was sure he'd been falling forward when he'd been stunned. He remembered then the comforting feeling of strong hands grabbing him from behind – preventing him from smashing his face into the ground. Snape must have caught him, he realised. The thought warmed him somewhat, to know that Snape had ensured he hadn't harmed himself. Still, he wasn't going to let Snape off the hook for the stunt he'd pulled. He checked his watch and noticed it was lunch time – he'd only been knocked out for fifteen minutes. He stood and made his way into the dining room.
Snape was sitting at the table with a sandwich, perusing a potion journal. He glanced up when Harry entered, shooting a smirk at the boy. The smirk only incensed Harry who seated himself ungraciously across from Snape before addressing him.
'That was completely unfair!' Harry began indignantly. 'I'd already won the duel!'
Harry's righteous anger seemed only to amuse Snape further, much to Harry's vexation. He bit into a sandwich, waiting for Snape to respond.
'Was it really?' Snape began calmly, laughter evident in his eyes. 'I believe, I was in fact, teaching you a valuable lesson.'
'Oh yes, and what was that?' Harry asked stubbornly, still determined to claim his victory.
'Why, to never turn your back on an opponent of course. I believe I've made enough of an impression to ensure you don't commit such a rudimentary error again, Mister Potter?' Snape asked smugly.
Harry just gaped at him.
'But…what…that's…' Harry spluttered wordlessly.
Harry's inability to form coherent words seemed to push Snape over the edge. A rich sound startled Harry, before he realised it was Snape. The man was genuinely laughing. For a moment Harry thought Snape was laughing at him in bad taste, before he realised Snape was laughing at the entire situation. With that Harry laughed also – to think he'd gone to all the trouble of tricking Snape, only to have the man better him.
Their laughter died down into a companionable silence. For the first time in a long time Snape felt light-hearted. His amusement at Potter's theatrics had lifted a weight from him. He hadn't laughed properly in years – yet this boy had managed to amuse him. For a moment he'd been able to forget everything that was wrong with his life; simply because a boy had had the gall to question him. The strange thing was that he wasn't annoyed at Potter for questioning him. He knew very well that Potter had won the duel yet he still maintained that he'd taught the boy a valuable lesson. What had really amused him though was that Potter had reminded him of himself as a teenager. He would have protested just as much as Potter had if he'd thought himself similarly cheated. Briefly he wondered just when he had begun to tolerate this easy banter with Potter. It didn't bother him though as he realised he actually enjoyed talking with Potter. It reminded him of similar discussions held a lifetime ago – before he'd forgotten how to laugh.
'Well, I trust you won't make the same mistake again?' Snape asked, dragging his thoughts away from where they had been headed.
Potter considered him momentarily before replying with a cheeky grin.
'Definitely not,' he began. 'You might have bested me this time sir, but I'll make sure I win decisively next time.'
'We'll see, Potter,' Snape said, a small grin playing around his mouth. 'We'll see.'
With that their discussion turned to Potter's progress, all thoughts of Lily locked away once again.
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It was Saturday evening, and Harry found himself amusing himself with a book on Quidditch he'd found in his trunk. He was reading the match statistics for the last time the Chudley Cannons had won a match when he heard Snape on the stairs. He'd left his door open so he watched as Snape swept past quickly towards his own room. Harry knew of only one thing that would have Snape moving that quickly, and so he closed his book and moved to the door. Snape was already on his way out of his room, his elaborate Death Eater robes now in place. He stopped when he saw Harry watching him. Harry's eyes moved unconsciously towards the mask clutched in Snape's left hand. Snape saw him looking and shoved the mask into an inner pocket before addressing Harry.
'I need to leave for a bit. You know the rules Potter,' he said briskly.
Harry met Snape's eyes and nodded. Snape appeared satisfied for he moved towards the steps. He was about to descend when he stopped and turned back to Harry.
'Do not let me find you out of bed when I return Potter,' he growled.
The words lacked their usual menace though and Harry thought he detected the slightest bit of apprehension in Snape's eyes before the man turned and hurried to the door. Harry heard it close and seconds later the tell-tale sound of Snape disapparating.
Harry turned and made his way back into his room. His book was where he had left it but it seemed trivial to be reading about Quidditch now. Instead he lay on his bed, thinking about Snape. Something about Snape didn't add up. The man was risking his life constantly – but what for? Not for the first time Harry found himself wondering about Snape's past. He sighed, he'd get nowhere speculating. He didn't know enough about the man to fathom his reasons. Instead he made his way to the bathroom for a shower before heading to bed; for once heeding Snape's words.
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It was still dark when Harry woke suddenly. He sat up in bed, listening carefully to the sounds of the house – something had woken him, he was sure of it. He heard it then, the sound of someone stumbling and muffled cursing. Silently he got out of bed, grabbing his glasses and wand as he did so. He eased his door open carefully and was surprised to see light coming from downstairs. He looked over to Snape's room and saw the door was ajar. Approaching warily, he pushed the door open further but found the room empty. He caught sight of Snape's Death Eater robes strewn across the floor, but the sound of glass breaking stopped him from investigating further. Turning he made his way quickly downstairs. He checked both the kitchen and the dining room but they were both empty. He entered the sitting room expecting to find Snape, but found it empty. For a moment he was confused until a muffled thump brought his attention to the small opening in the bookshelf. The door Snape had forbidden him from ever entering was slightly ajar. It was from there the muffled sounds were coming. Steeling himself Harry approached the door and opened it fully.
The door opened onto a narrow gloomy staircase. He could see the outline of another door leading into a room at the top. Carefully he made his way up the stairs. He kept his wand out although he could hear now that it was Snape who was in the room. It sounded as though he were moving things about and swearing occasionally as he did so. Harry reached the door and pushed it open, unsure of what he would find on the other side.
Harry frowned in confusion as he caught sight of the room. It was obviously the master bedroom, although there was no furniture in the room. Why Snape was using a guest room then, he couldn't understand. The room had obviously not been used in a long time, dust coated all the surfaces and the old curtains were mouldy and tattered. Instead of furniture the room had been filled with boxes, as though someone had packed up half the house and shoved it into this single room. Old crockery and other household items spilled from the few boxes that Snape had obviously been going through. The man himself was standing further into the room oblivious to Harry's presence. He was searching through a box, using the light of a small candle that was resting precariously beside the box. He was obviously struggling to see as he was cursing under his breath as he shifted through the items in the box. Harry wondered why he didn't just use his wand and stepped forward with his own wand lit, casting light on Snape. Snape turned to face the light, flinching at the brightness and it was then Harry realised why Snape hadn't thought to use his wand.
Snape was utterly drunk.
He stared blearily at Harry not recognising him, five o-clock shadow obvious. His eyes were bloodshot and his breath stank of booze. His normally pristine button down shirt was hanging open, a dirty white singlet visible underneath. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, revealing the ugly tattoo that marked his left forearm. He'd lost his belt at some point and so his trousers hung low, barely staying up given the man's slight frame. Surprisingly his boots were still on.
Looking around Harry caught sight of several empty bottles of muggle alcohol lying at Snape's feet. Glass was spread across the floor and Harry realised the shattering he'd heard had been Snape breaking his glass. Snape stared blearily at Harry for a moment more before turning and swigging Firewhiskey straight from a bottle that had been hidden at his side. It was as Snape raised the bottle and sloshed half the whiskey down his front that Harry noticed he was shaking uncontrollably. He recognised the symptoms and realised with dawning horror that Snape was suffering the after effects of the Cruciatus. It seemed that whatever had happened tonight had caused Snape to lose himself in drink.
Snape was back to searching in the boxes now, though how he was managing to do anything Harry did not know. He realised that Snape was dangerously close to knocking over the candle, which would be disastrous given the amount of alcohol splashed around the place. He hurriedly snatched the candle and blew it out. Snape didn't appear to notice, so intently was he searching. He was muttering to himself as he searched.
'Where is it…I put it all away…It should be here!'
Whatever it was that Snape was searching for he appeared to be becoming quite frustrated with his futile search. Harry sighed to himself, he knew he'd have to deal with Snape – there was no way the man would be capable of getting himself to bed, and Harry could hardly leave him alone in his current state.
'Damn it all to hell!' Snape roared suddenly, lashing out at the box.
He slammed it against the wall and Harry heard several plates break. He stepped away from Snape, aware that in his current state it was probably safest to keep Snape at arms left. Snape was breathing heavily, his fingers digging into the bridge of his nose as he mumbled incoherently to himself. The bottle of Firewhiskey was still clutched in his hand and he lifted it suddenly, finishing it messily. Harry jumped in shock as Snape swore viciously, smashing the Firewhiskey bottle against the ground in anger. Glass exploded everywhere but Snape seemed unfazed, instead staring mesmerised at the shards surrounding him.
'Sir, you need to come with me,' Harry said quietly.
Harry figured the best place for Snape now was his own room, but the man seemed not to hear him. He called three more times before Snape looked up from the shards of glass he'd been staring at so intently. His expression was vacant; he clearly hadn't heard or recognised Harry's voice. As he took in Harry's appearance though something seemed to click into place and a look of pure hatred entered Snape's eyes.
'Piss off Potter,' Snape slurred loudly.
He took a stumbling step towards Harry, who remained rooted to the spot, confused by Snape's sudden hatred. Snape's hand shot out, grabbing Harry by the front of his shirt and pulling him closer. Harry tried to pull back but Snape was too strong. His face was white with rage, an ugly sneer marring his features. Snape felt Harry pull back, which only caused him to tighten his grip, almost lifting Harry off his feet. Spittle flew from the Professor's mouth as the man's fury broke.
'No Potter…You've taken everything from me…Everything…I won't let you get away…She…my…'
Snape's fury and his slurred speech rendered him incomprehensible. Harry fought more desperately to pull himself away from Snape, for the first time truly terrified by the man.
'Sir, please…put me down,' Harry gasped out.
Harry realised belatedly that it was a mistake to have drawn Snape's attention to him. Snape stared down at him, a crazed look entering his eyes, before he forcefully threw Harry from him. Harry was caught by surprise and twisted in an attempt to stop his fall. He fell awkwardly his right arm, taking his weight before giving way. He lay winded on the ground momentarily, his right arm having taken the brunt of the fall. Ignoring the pain he got to his feet quickly, determined to deal with Snape. The man had backed off but Harry knew he needed to be subdued. Hoping Snape wouldn't hold it against him, he raised his wand.
'Stupefy!' he cried.
His spell hit Snape square in the chest, knocking him backwards towards the boxes. Harry raced forward and grabbed him around the elbow, steadying him as he lost consciousness. He lowered him slowly to the floor, away from the glass before stepping back to assess his own injuries.
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He'd grabbed Snape with his left arm, his right arm oddly sore and it was that which he now inspected. The arm was coated in a sticky wet substance which took him a moment to identify as blood. He realised then that he'd landed in the glass from the broken bottle. He fought the urge to vomit at the sight of large glass shards embedded in his forearm, and a particularly nasty shard caught deep between his finger and thumb. It seemed his arm had protected the rest of his body from being stabbed to pieces by the larger shards. Thankful that he hadn't grabbed Snape with his right hand he considered the wound.
The glass was in deep, which meant it was likely preventing excessive blood loss. As such pulling the shards out would be dangerous, unless he had a way to stop the bleeding. He cursed to himself silently when he realised he'd yet to learn anything that would allow him to heal the deep cuts he was dealing with. His best hope was to bind the cuts for now and do his best to ensure Snape was still alive in the morning he thought morbidly.
Resigned to watching Snape for the night he summoned some of the bandages Snape had transfigured for his previous injury. He took a seat beside one of the boxes, as several bandages zoomed into the room and landed at his feet. Gingerly he picked them up and awkwardly bandaged the glass shards into place so that they wouldn't move and aggravate the wounds. He tied them as tightly as he could but it was hard with only one hand. Instead he used a nifty knot-tying hex Ron's brothers had shown him for tying people's shoelaces together, to secure the ends. His arm was starting to pain him now but he ignored it for the moment. He doubted he'd be able to get into Snape's potion stores so he'd just have to hope Snape had something upstairs.
He stood carefully, brushing glass shards off himself as he inspected the sorry sight that was Professor Snape. Raising his wand he vanished the shards which were scattered on the floor before considering how best to move Snape. He pointed his wand at Snape before muttering 'Mobilicorpus'.
Snape was pulled into a standing position, feet hovering off the ground as though being controlled by a puppeteer. His head lolled on his chest, his hair obscuring his features. The sight caused Harry to pause for a moment as the queerest sensation of déjà vu over took him. He couldn't recall, but he was almost certain that he'd seen Snape in a similar position before. He wondered briefly at the vague memory, but he recalled nothing further. Cradling his right arm to his body he pointed his wand ahead of him and carefully manoeuvred Snape down the staircase. As they reached the bottom he secured the door before directing Snape out of the sitting room and up the stairs.
They made it back upstairs without incidence but once they reached the landing Snape began to stir. He groaned, still unconscious before vomiting without warning. It appeared Snape had been drinking on an empty stomach. Harry quickly dealt with the vomit that coated the floor, vanishing it instantly. Unluckily though the majority of Snape's vomit coated the man himself. Harry wasn't sure how to clean that up effectively so he left Snape in his sicked on clothes, instead focused on getting the man to his room as quickly as possible.
He directed Snape to the edge of his bed before removing the spell and carefully placing him on the bed. He lent Snape against the headboard before clumsily pulling the man's soiled clothing off. He considered redressing the man in pyjamas but he knew Snape was likely to be vomiting for the rest of the night. However, he didn't want to risk Snape's wrath if the man woke wearing only his briefs, so he grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the dresser and clumsily put them on for the unconscious man.
Satisfied that Snape would be fine for the next few minutes he focused on his own arm. He'd managed to ignore the pain whilst moving Snape but the dull ache was becoming distracting. If he was going to have to wait for Snape to heal him properly he'd need to find some kind of pain relief. He moved to Snape's bedside table and examined it perfunctorily. He didn't want to look too closely for he knew Snape was an incredibly private man and would not take kindly to Harry going through his things. He looked over at Snape's desk which was tidy except for the Death Eater mask which had been placed on it, looking extremely incongruous. He was about to examine the drawers when he noticed several vials positioned at the back of the desk, hidden behind the mask. To his relief he spotted a pain relieving potion. Grabbing it he downed it immediately. A moment later he felt a cool sensation in his right arm and breathed a sigh of relief at the reduction in the pain.
A hitch in Snape's breathing caught Harry's attention and he turned back to the Professor to find him chocking on his own vomit. Harry hurriedly approached Snape and pushed the man onto his side so that his head hung over the bed. Snape's airway cleared as his gag reflex came into play, a mixture of saliva and bile congealing on the floor. Harry vanished the vomit before leaving Snape in the recovery position and dashing to the bathroom. He grabbed several towels taking them back to Snape's room with him. Snape was still dead to the world and Harry grimaced at the mess the man had made on himself. He used one of the towels to wipe off Snape's chest and mouth. He discovered that when he'd rolled Snape forward he'd unwittingly caught some of the man's hair near his mouth. It was now matted through with vomit. Harry did his best to clear it up with the towel but the sick had dried quickly and now coated Snape's hair. He gathered the remaining clean towel up and carefully positioned it under Snape's head, covering the bed and pillow. Not trusting his transfiguration abilities he summoned a bucket from the laundry, placing it beneath Snape's head, within easy reach. Harry pulled out Snape's desk chair, dragging it across to Snape's bed before grabbing his Quidditch book from his own room.
'You're going to have a killer hangover in the morning,' he said quietly. Snape remained unresponsive but still Harry addressed him.
'Why?'
It was a rhetorical question but the question nagged at Harry. Why had Snape drunk himself stupid? And who exactly had Snape thought Harry to be? Settling himself in Snape's chair, realising he'd get no answers yet, he found himself keeping vigil once again.
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Snape vomited half a dozen more times throughout the night and early morning; semi-conscious and completely unaware of the assistance he was being given. Harry remained wordlessly by his Professor's side, dealing with everything without complaint. He did not sleep, instead perusing various books. By mid-morning Snape had not vomited for several hours and had finally fallen into a restful sleep, allowing Harry the time to have a shower and get himself breakfast. He made his way back up to Snape's room, aware that his arm was becoming uncomfortable again. He retook his seat by Snape's side, hoping the man would wake up soon.
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Snape woke slowly, his thoughts groggy and his memory haphazard. He recognised the ache in his muscles as that characteristic of the Cruciatus, but the pain in his head was a thousand times worse. He felt as though he'd been trampled by a herd of Hippogriffs. The tattoo of his own heartbeat echoed like a foghorn in his skull. His mouth was dry, the bitter taste of bile and alcohol coating his tongue. He opened his eyes slowly, wincing as the light hit his retina. He groaned slightly as he shifted in his bed, shutting his eyes tightly to keep out the light. His heard someone move before a voice abused his sensitive hearing.
'Sir, are you alright?' Harry asked quietly, having noticed Snape had woken.
Potter, Snape realised, wincing at the loud tone the boy had used. He attempted to open his eyes again but the light was still too strong.
'Can you turn the bloody lights off Potter,' he growled out; his raw throat making his voice break.
Potter did not move for a moment and Snape wondered what he was playing at. He was about to question the boy when he heard the curtains being closed.
'Err…is that better sir?' Harry asked confusedly. To him the room had been quite dim.
Snape did not answer; instead pushing himself into a sitting position, wincing as his muscles protested. He took in his surroundings with increasing dread. By the size of his hangover he'd obviously had a huge amount to drink. He realised with horror that Potter must have put him to bed, and if the chair and bucket were anything to go by the boy had actually looked after him. He thought back to the previous night but was unable to recall much. He knew he'd been to a Death Eater meeting but that was all he could remember presently. Between that and waking up now, his memory was blank.
'Merlin help me, what have I done?' he muttered to himself.
He stood shakily, the effects of the Cruciatus still accosting him. Potter was oddly quiet and Snape glanced over at him. He was standing in shadow by the window and Snape could barely make him out as he squinted across the room. There was something odd about the way Potter was standing but his hangover clouded his senses and so he dismissed the thought.
'Sir, we need to talk,' Potter began, but Snape cut him off with a gesture.
'Give me half an hour to clean up,' he compromised.
Potter looked as though he wanted to ask something but he withheld, instead nodding his assent. Relieved Snape made his way to the bathroom glad to be away from the boy.
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He leant against the bathroom sink taking in his appearance. It was only then that he realised he was shirtless and wearing clean pants. His cheeks coloured as he realised Potter had stripped him; his humiliation increased when he considered that he'd likely vomited on himself. His face was pale and his eyes bloodshot he noted. Stubble covered his cheeks, whilst his hair was a sticky mess of congealed sick. He divested himself of his remaining clothing and doused himself with steaming hot water. The heat of the water soothed his headache and cleared his head. He lost himself in thought under the water, as the filth from the previous night was washed away. He tried desperately to recall more of his evening but the events were blurred and there were large gaps in his memory.
'What the hell was I thinking,' he cried out, punching the wall of the shower several times to release some of his anger.
He vaguely recalled being thoroughly depressed to be coming back to Spinner's End after the meeting. These past few weeks he'd spent more time in the house than he had since coming of age. It was driving him insane, trapped in the house with his memories. Potter alleviated some of the tension he felt from being cooped up in the house but the stress of the Death Eater meeting had driven him to drink. After that first evening he'd removed the liquor from his cabinet and stashed it in his own room. He'd told himself it was to avoid temptation, but it was just as much to prevent Potter from throwing it out like he had the Firewhiskey he'd found. He'd managed alright for a few weeks but eventually he'd succumbed and had taken to drinking alone at night, long after Potter had fallen asleep. He despised himself for his behaviour – it was far too similar to his own father's – but he knew it was only whilst he was here. The house reminded him too much of his childhood and the memories only heightened his guilt. And so he drank; simply to forget himself for a few hours, whilst Potter was unable to provide distraction.
He stepped out of the shower, the events of the previous night still hazy. Whatever had happened he could not deny that he owed Potter an explanation. He was shamed to think that only a day ago he had had the audacity to claim temporary guardianship over the boy. After everything he had said, he had forced Potter to once again act as an adult. Fifteen year old boys were not supposed to spend all night watching over drunken adults, he thought bitterly.
Having made himself presentable he made his way downstairs towards his potion stores. Potter was not in the kitchen so he presumed the boy was waiting for him in the sitting room. He quickly selected a potion suitable for his hangover, taking it immediately. He was relieved to note that the after effects of the Cruciatus had subsided, his hand able to grip the vial steadily. As the potion took effect the pounding in his head subsided and the light became less intense. Within minutes his senses were essentially back to normal. As he passed through the kitchen again he noticed Potter had put aside a plate for him. The sight of food made him feel queasy though, so he put it away for later.
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Potter was in the sitting room as he'd predicted; occupying the sofa, his back to Snape and the door. The boy's head was leant back and Snape realised guiltily that he was asleep. It was as he passed Potter, to take his seat in the armchair, that he finally realised what had seemed off with him. The boy's right arm was cradled carefully against his body, wrapped in bandages. Stains of dark blood were evident on the surface, suggesting the wounds had bled for quite some time.
'Potter,' Snape breathed out, aghast at the sight before him.
The boy did not hear and Snape cursed himself for not noticing. He'd dismissed the way Potter had been standing and he'd overridden Potter when the boy had spoken to him earlier. He crouched down next to the boy, and carefully shook him awake.
'Potter, why didn't you tell me you were injured?' he asked in a deadly calm voice.
Harry stared at him blearily for a minute, sleep still evident in his eyes before he seemed to comprehend the question.
'You were busy sir,' he replied lamely.
Snape ran his hands through his hair in a gesture of weariness and defeat.
'I wasn't busy Potter; I simply wished to have a shower. I was unaware that you were injured.' He paused, giving Harry a searching look as he continued. 'Do you honestly believe that I would be heartless enough to have ignored your injury?'
Harry did not reply but that was answer enough for Snape. An odd feeling of hurt overcame him as he realised that Potter thought so little of him.
'I don't know how it was with your previous guardians Potter, but whilst you are under my care you are to tell me immediately if you are ever injured. Do you understand?'
Snape spoke with such conviction that Harry realised he'd unintentionally insulted the man and offered an explanation.
'Yes, I know sir. I normally deal with injuries myself, but I wasn't sure how to get the glass out without causing further damage,' he said frankly.
'Glass?' queried Snape, a look of confusion on his face. He gestured for Harry to stand before guiding the boy to the dining room table. Harry took a seat, gingerly laying his arm on the table whilst Snape took the seat next to him before gently examining Harry's handiwork.
'Have you taken anything for the pain' Snape asked, watching the boy closely.
'I took a pain-reliever I found on your desk about six hours ago.'
Snape nodded, the boy was definitely in need of a second dose. He stood and retrieved a vial from his store, re-seating himself as Harry downed the potion.
'How exactly were you injured?' Snape asked calmly, carefully unwinding the bandages Harry had applied.
Snape's question was met with silence and Snape looked up to see Potter looking uncomfortable. A feeling of unease settled over Snape and he prompted Potter to answer.
'Don't you remember sir?' Harry asked quietly, not meeting Snape's gaze.
Snape's grip on Harry's arm tightened slightly before Snape seemed to recollect himself. A sense of dread overcame Snape and he was reluctant to continue questioning Potter. He had to know though – had he harmed the boy?
'Unfortunately at present I am unable to recollect the full details of last night.'
He forced himself to sound detached but Potter did not seem to be fooled. For the briefest of seconds Potter met his gaze, a look of understanding in his eyes, and in that moment Snape knew he was the source of the injury. He pushed away the feelings of disappointment and self-loathing, putting his mask firmly in place. He focused simply on unwinding Potter's bandage and listening to Potter's summary of events.
'You were in the room with all the boxes sir,' Potter began apologetically.
Snape froze; it was worse than he'd thought. What in Merlin's name had possessed him to go up there he thought to himself. He hadn't been up there in years, yet he knew almost immediately what he would have been searching for. He could only hope now that Potter had managed to get him out of the room quickly. Harry continued on, oblivious to Snape's thoughts.
'There were a few muggle bottles lying around and you'd knocked over a glass or something earlier. You were looking for something in particular sir, but you couldn't seem to find it. You…were frustrated and so I asked you to come downstairs with me.'
Harry paused and Snape sensed that he was reluctant to continue. Snape had a fair idea of what was coming though. He'd heard the pause in Potter's explanation of his mood, which meant he'd likely been swearing and irrational when Potter had come across him. Given what he was looking for he guessed he hadn't recognised the boy as Harry Potter.
'Did I recognise you?' Snape asked resignedly.
'You called me Potter…' the boy said quietly.
Harry's reluctance to answer confirmed Snape's fear that he had spoken to the boy as though he were James Potter. Snape finished removing the bandage as he considered what to say next. He examined Potter's arm distractedly. There were two large pieces of glass embedded in the boy's forearm and a third deep between the finger and thumb. The latter would be the hardest to remove he noted, so he started with one of the forearm shards. He worked swiftly, confidently removing the glass and healing the underlying laceration before it could bleed. He paused before starting on the second piece.
'It was not you, Harry, to whom I was speaking,' he said gravely.
The boy seemed startled by the use of his first name, causing Snape to smirk slightly. He paused before continuing, watching Potter's evident relief. His expression turned sombre as he asked his next question.
'Do you recall what I said to you?'
'Err…you said I'd taken everything from you…that you wouldn't allow me to get away with it…you were talking about someone in particular I think sir,' Harry said embarrassedly. 'I don't know what else you said though, you were so angry and…well you weren't really coherent after a while.'
'I see,' Snape said calmly, although he was anything but calm. He couldn't believe that in his inebriated state he'd revealed so much to the boy. He also suspected that Potter had picked up more than he was letting on, but Snape let it pass for the minute. He knew Potter was skirting the circumstances of his injury and so Snape cut to the chase.
'How did that result in you slicing your arm open?' Snape asked bluntly.
Harry looked at Snape sheepishly, aware that he'd been caught out, before replying hesitantly.
'When you thought I was my dad, you grabbed me and started yelling all that stuff. I tried to get away but you were too strong. I asked you to put me down…' Harry shifted nervously, unsure of how Snape would take the rest of his explanation. The memory of how Snape had looked at him was still fresh in his mind. Even though he knew Snape had been seeing James Potter, the man's fury had been terrible to behold – it was not something he wanted to encounter again.
Snape seemed to sense his hesitation though and indicated with a stiff nod for him to continue; determined to hear everything.
'Well…you threw me from you sir,' Harry said plainly. He'd moved his gaze to a point above Snape's head and missed the look of horror that crossed Snape's face at his words. 'You'd smashed a bottle of Firewhiskey on the ground…and well I landed awkwardly and…well…' he gestured at his arm and Snape understood.
'Go on,' Snape prompted in a strained voice, as he carefully worked on removing the second shard of glass.
'Well after that…I stunned you sir,' Harry said nervously.
At that Snape looked up. Realising Harry was serious he laughed, trying to relieve his own unease from what had been said.
'I can't say I didn't deserve that one,' Snape said seriously, eliciting a small smile from Harry.
'Yeah, sorry about that,' Harry began. 'Anyway I moved you up to your own room, and well that's about it.'
Snape knew that wasn't quite everything. He was well aware that Potter had dealt with him vomiting all night.
'Thank you,' he said gruffly, grateful for what Potter had done.
Harry simply nodded as he watched Snape working on the second shard.
'You were right to leave the glass in,' Snape said suddenly. 'You'd have bled to death from this one if you'd pulled it out. It nicked your artery by the looks of it,' he said matter-of-factly as he sealed the cut.
A companionable silence fell as Snape moved onto the third shard. This one was lodged deeply and Harry looked away, feeling slightly queasy. He wasn't in pain, but he could still feel the shard moving as Snape worked it out. As Snape removed the piece, blood flowed from the wound, trickling across the back of Harry's hand and onto the table. Snape grabbed a swab, placing it under Harry's hand to prevent the blood from spreading.
'Sir…' Harry started, though unsure of how to phrase his question he trailed off.
Snape looked up, seemingly understanding what Harry was trying to ask.
'Let me finish this first Potter, and then we can talk,' he said calmly.
His apparent composure was a farce. He had no idea what he was going to tell the boy but he knew his behaviour warranted an explanation. He just wasn't sure if he had one. He turned his attention back to the boy's hand, carefully sealing the wound. He grabbed the swab and used it to clean up the blood which coated Harry's hand.
Suddenly Snape froze in his ministrations, looking up at Harry – bewilderment and fury in his eyes.
'What the hell is this Potter?' he growled.
Harry looked down at what Snape had seen.
'Oh,' he breathed out.
There on the back of his hands the words stood, as though they had been freshly carved: I must not tell lies.
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A/N: Hi all. Sorry about the delay in updating. I was away on holidays and didn't have access to an internet connection. Hope you all enjoy this latest chapter. Let me know your thoughts! Until next time :)