Chapter Twelve
"Peace and Quiet"
Snape rounded the stairs down to the dungeons quickly, pulling Harry with him. Harry lost track of how much time they spent spiraling down one staircase, going down a corridor, and down another staircase. He tried to pay attention, so he would be able to find his way out again, but it was next to impossible.
Severus, however, knew exactly where he was going. He had lived in the same chambers since two years afters he left Hogwarts. It had once seemed like a long walk, but he had walked it so many times, he didn't even notice it anymore. And he still fully appreciated it's location – relatively close to the Potions classroom, his office, and the Slytherin Common Room, far enough from everything so that no student followed him. He was truly alone in his chambers, and he liked that. Well, he was alone... until now.
Curse Longbottom! Curse that Potion! Curse Potter! Severus silently cursed anything and everything remotely responsible for the newly-developed Bond. He hated the Bond. He couldn't find the words for how much he hated it. He hated that Wizards could create Potions for the oddest things that nobody wanted, and yet couldn't create Potions that could do useful things, such as bring people back to life, or have someone regrow a limb or other missing body part.
Where are we going? Harry wondered, not being able to keep the fear hidden deep inside of him. He hated the dungeons – they were cold, slimy, smelly, and reminded him of Potions and Slytherins. The corridor the Potions classroom was on was relatively slime-free, as was the Slytherin Common Room, but where Harry was with Snape was the definition of "creepy". It was much colder, slimier, and smellier than anywhere Harry had ever been at Hogwarts, except for maybe the Chamber of Secrets.
Suddenly Snape stopped and pointed his wand at a door. He didn't say anything, just pointed his wand. Harry looked at the Potions Master's face; his expression, while carefully guarded as usual, was one of concentration. Snape wasn't moving his mouth or his eyes – he just stared at the door, which consequently, swung open.
Harry gaped at Snape in awe. "How did you do that?"
Snape stuck his wand back into his robes. "If I don't say my password out loud, there is no need to ever change it, is there?" He said as if Harry were some stupid first-year. "At Hogwarts, the very walls have ears."
It was true. Harry tucked that bit of information in the back of his brain, to practice opening the portrait of the fat lady without words. It could come in very useful... wait.
"Where are we?" Harry asked, looking around the room Snape had taken him in. It looked like a small house, almost. There was a small lit fireplace and two overstuffed arm chairs sitting by the fire. The stone walls were lined with books. To the right side of the room was a small dust-covered table, and what seemed like a small open kitchen, the counters also covered with a thick layer of dust.
Snape gave him a scowl. "Where do you think, Potter? My private chambers – where you will be living for now on." He added that last piece of information as if it pained him very much to say it. But Harry didn't think it could pain Snape as much as it pained him.
"Me? Living... here?" He asked, looking wildly around the room. The left side of the room looked well lived-in – the carpet that occupied that side was clean and dust-free, both overstuffed chairs looking like they had been used quite a bit. Upon closer examination, most of the books weren't dusty, meaning they had been used.
But the other side, Harry realized as he walked over to it, wasn't used at all. The scarlet carpet (scarlet? Who would have guessed that Snape would have scarlet carpet, of all colors?) ended as the sitting area gave away. The stone floor wasn't the cleanest, and it looked as if the kitchen had not been used in a long time. There were two rooms leading off of the small dining area, but as their doors were closed, Harry didn't know where they led.
"Yes, Potter." Snape sniffed. "I realize it might not live up to the accommodations that you're used to, however-"
"It's fine." Harry said shortly, standing awkwardly behind an armchair.
Severus heard Potter, but felt no need to respond. What was he supposed to say 'Good'? 'I'm glad'? How about 'make yourself at home'? All of those things were perfectly needless to say. Severus opened the door to his bedroom and went in, perfectly aware that Potter was following him.
Where is that? He wondered, looking through the piles of parchment on his bedside table. I swear to Merlin I put it right here...
"What are you looking for?" Potter asked in a quiet voice.
Severus sighed, rolling his eyes. "A letter, Potter – if you must know."
"Whose it from?"
"It doesn't concern you, Potter." Severus said in his most bored tone.
"Dumbledore says a lot of things don't concern me, and it does."
"Let me inform you, Potter, that the world does not revolve around you, and therefore, you will quit prying into my private business. I assure you that if anything that comes up that does concern you, you will be told." Severus found the letter and went into the sitting area, sitting himself down in his favorite chair to re-read the letter and make a decision on what to do about its contents.
Harry sat down awkwardly at the chair across from Snape. He began nervously twiddling his thumbs. What am I supposed to say, he wondered. He felt weird not saying anything and just sitting there.
"Quidditch." He said suddenly, realizing something.
Snape lowered the letter, his eyes meeting Harry's. "Quidditch?" He asked. Severus had never been good at Quidditch – he could fly well, of course, but did not have the natural coordination for the sport.
"Yeah – we have a match on Saturday. Against Ravenclaw." Harry squirmed in the chair. It was uncomfortable. "I can play, right? I mean, it won't hurt to have a couple hour game, will it?"
"Physical exertion may not be the most ideal thing to do," Severus mused. Dumbledore had warned him that any amount of exertion might lessen the charge that he and Harry were running off of, and to not do any activity that might strain their brains, their bodies, or their magic. They had done a lot of running that night, but since they would be spending hours together that night, it wouldn't effect them too much, probably. But the amount of flying and excitement that Quidditch would bring in the beginning of the day would likely mean that he would have to spend more time with Potter afterwards to avoid any sort of breakdown, like they had had on Monday.
"Oh please, Snape." Harry rolled his eyes. "We both know that you're just saying that so that Gryffindor will lose it's Seeker and Slytherin might have a chance to win the final Quidditch match this year."
Severus' eyes narrowed. "I believe you meant to address me as Professor Snape, Potter. And how dare you accuse me of trying to use this Bond to sabotage Quidditch!"
"Well, why else would you try to discourage me from playing?" Harry felt desperate, regretting bringing this up. He needed Quidditch. As of right then, that was the only thing he could count on.
"We will have to avoid all extra exertion possible. Including Apparating, disapparting, running, powerful magic that needs a lot of concentration, and yes – Quidditch." Severus drawled out. "Yes, Potter – on Saturday you can try to play Quidditch, but if two hours go by and the Snitch is not caught, you will either have to find a replacement or forfeit."
"Only two hours to catch the Snitch?" Harry didn't know if that was fair – sometimes it took much longer to find and catch the golden Snitch.
"And after that time, you will have to put in a new Seeker for an hour. You will meet me in the lockers." Snape's eyes met Harry's. "Consider yourself lucky, Potter – I might not choose to allow this every match."
Hook-nosed bastard. "But we don't have a spare Seeker!" Harry exclaimed.
"You should have thought of that before." Snape said, in that monotone voice he always used, which annoyed Harry to no end.
"That's not fair!" Harry jumped up in rage. "You can't control me like this! I'm not stopping you from doing... whatever it is you like to do."
"And how would you know that, if you don't know what I do?" Snape inquired. "I'd encourage you to mind your own business, Potter."
"What about Quidditch practice?" Harry asked, beginning to pace. "I scheduled one for tomorrow evening – we have got to practice tomorrow!"
"And you shall." Severus said, more than annoyed with Potter. If every night was going to be an argument about Quidditch, he would just retire earlier and get extra sleep. "What time is it at?"
"Seven-thirty." Harry said.
Severus nodded. "Go ahead, but let me warn you – if you start to feel weak, come back here. And I will know – I will be feeling as weak as you. After the game on Saturday, we have to spend the rest of the day together, because I am refereeing Slytherins versus Hufflepuff on Sunday, and I cannot be replaced in the middle of the match – I am the replacement."
"Fine." Harry said, grudgingly, heading towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Snape said sharply.
"To find us a new Seeker." Harry snapped. "I saw a little second-year flying around on her broomstick last week; I will have to go find out if she'll play for us." He paused at the door. "We are allowed to have a spare Seeker, right?"
Severus nodded. "I imagine so. I am the Head of Slytherin and have no problem with it – I should doubt the other Heads with have problems with it if they realize our... unique situation. It is not as if we are having two Seekers play at once."
"Psh, with Malfoy as your Seeker, we barely need one as it is." Harry scoffed. "Oh, wait... people are going to wonder why we need a spare Seeker." Harry realized out loud.
"Tell them there is a personal reason for it, and that it has been approved." Snape said, his eyes narrowing at the comment towards the Slytherin Seeker. "You have forty-five minutes, then come back."
Harry nodded. "Um... how do I get back up to the Great Hall?"
"Didn't bother to pay attention on the way down, did we Potter?" Snape sneered, getting up and getting a fresh piece of parchment and a quill He drew a quick map up to the Great Hall from the dungeons for Harry, made sure Harry knew the password, and Harry left.
Severus breathed an automatic sigh of relief when the boy left. As much as he needed to be in his presence, he found that whenever he was, he was tense and frustrated. He could only be at peace when he was by himself. He returned to reading the letter he held.
Dear Mr. Snape,
We regret to inform you that your house, located on Spinner's End, has been destroyed by The Ministry of Magic, due to non-removable traces of Dark Magic. The property, however, is now free from the Dark Magic. As you have been cleared of all charges against you, you are free to rebuild at any time.
We are sorry, but thank you for your corporation. Have a good day,
Milignus Fledgink, Ministry of Magic
Screw them, Snape said. True enough, he rarely used the house. He didn't appreciate the memories of the house, of having an abusive father and a suicidal mother, so only lived there when he had nowhere else to go. Hogwarts, as a rule, was closed in the summer, so usually Severus just went to Spinner's End for July and August, before returning to Hogwarts for the majority of the year. But now, Severus had to take the Potter boy with him, and he had nowhere to go. He couldn't ask Albus or Minerva to house them – if there was one thing Severus could not stand, it was charity. But what other options did they have? As a professor, he did not make much money, especially with the food, room, and board he had. It was not as if he could rebuild, like the letter suggested. That would take Galleons – hundreds of Galleons – that Severus just didn't have.
Perhaps I could get a loan... he mused, knowing already that Gringotts would never entrust a former Death Eater with a single knut.. And he and Harry could only stay at an inn for so long, before what little Severus had managed to save ran out. And while Albus might want to allow Severus and Harry to stay at Hogwarts over the summer, it was unlikely that the situation would be very feasible. After all, even though Albus was Headmaster, he couldn't make all of the decisions, and there would certainly be enough Governors on the Board to shoot the idea down.
Severus didn't like feeling needy or like someone whom someone would sympathize. He had often been tempted to feel sorry for himself over the past few days, and had, but was quitting. He had been doing a horrible job of doing what he had been doing successfully for years – guarding his emotions. Whenever he did that, there was never any cause for someone to feel pity or anything of the sort – he was regarded as cold and sinister by students and adults alike, and much-preferred it that way. It kept him distant from everyone. If you weren't close to them, then you felt nothing when something bad happened to them.
He sat the letter on the small table standing beside his chair, stood up and stretched. Perhaps he would go over to the Slytherin Common Room, just to check up on his House.
"Yes, a Seeker." Harry patiently told the second-year, Grace Creel. "Gryffindor needs a spare Seeker – you wouldn't play every game, of course, but during the long ones, you see, when I need to take a break." He paused, searching for the words to say. "I am not well, right now, and it would be a shame to lose the Quidditch Cup this year because I can't fly for more than an hour or two."
"But... me?" She squeaked.
Harry nodded, glad that he had stumbled upon the tiny child in the corridors near the Gryffindor Common Room. He wasn't in the mood to run into Ginny, or Ron. "I've seen you on your broomstick – you're so fast! And you have a sharp eye for things – remember the other morning, at breakfast, when an owl dropped that shrunken package accidentally? You reached out and caught it like a professional Seeker!" He honestly meant the things he said. The child had extreme potential as a Seeker.
"But... but isn't that against the rules of Quidditch?" the Muggle-Born was sounded unsure, but Harry knew that any student at Hogwarts understood Quidditch well. It was impossible not to.
"We have been given permission." Harry explained. "Because of our special circumstances. So basically, you will play at practices with us, and just watch the game until I get too tired to continue."
"But... but that makes it possible for us to cheat, right?" She seemed nervous. "I don't want to cheat."
Harry, not for the first time, felt a surge of pride for the House he belonged to. "Well, it would make it easier to cheat, but we're not going to. We can only swap out if Professor Snape gives us permission to."
"Professor Snape?" The girl gaped. "But he hates Gryffindor! He'll never let us-"
Harry held up his hand to stop her. "Yes, he will. He will know when I'm too tired to play, and will let you play. Don't worry – we've got it all organized. Our only question is, is that do you want to play?" As Quidditch Captain, he chose the players.
The girl nodded without hesitation. "Definitely."
He smiled and shook her hand. "Next practice is tomorrow at seven-thirty, at the Quidditch field."
He exchanged a bit more small talk with the girl, getting to know her (her twin brother was jealous that he wasn't a Wizard, she loved pumpkin juice milkshakes, and had wanted to play football (soccer) professionally before becoming a Wizard), before noting that his forty-five minute time was nearly up.
"Well, see you on the field, Grace." He smiled at her and waved. For the first time in three days, the knot in his stomach loosened slightly. At least he was guaranteed a fair season of Quidditch – at least his entire world hadn't been turned upside-down.
