My head shoots up. I scan the room, and my eyes fall on a lone figure in the corner. A man is standing up from a chair, and I jump to my feet as he comes towards me. He is a lot taller and broader than me, and, frankly, I am scared. I fumble for the doorknob as he looms over me.
It won't open. I twist and turn and push and pull, and it won't fucking open.
"Boy?" He stares at me, hard. It's ridiculous how that one stupid word can make me flinch. I take to pounding on the door, wishing Snape would just come here now. "Who are you, boy?"
He puts a huge hand on my shoulder, grips it too tight, shakes. "Well?!"
Where are you, Snape? My eyes find a window on the far side of the room, and I try to inch towards it. My heart is pounding even louder than it was before, my mouth is dry. I can't answer this man, or tell him to get the fuck off and let me out, because I can barely breathe, let alone speak.
His grip tightens as I try to move away. "You look fair set to faint, boy. What's ruddy wrong-"
He breaks off as the door flies open, Snape appears in the doorway, eyes wild. Thank God. He looks at the two of us, and his eyes narrow. "Get your fucking hands off of him," he spits.
The man looks between me and Snape, then down at his hand on my shoulder. He slowly releases me, and Snape pulls me behind him, out of the room. He opens his mouth again, then seems to decide against it, and just slams the door. He looks at me intently. "Are you alright?" he inquires.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out, and I just move my head in a sort of circle. My head is in a mess again. Who is this man? Why is he in Snape's house if Snape hates him as much as it sounds like he does?
He looks at the door, and then back at me. He sighs. "So. Um. I suppose there's no point in me asking you to avoid that room anymore." Another sigh. "He's- That is- I suppose-"
I don't think I've ever seen him so uncomfortable. He looks a bit like Neville does when he's asked a question in class. Poor Nev.
He clicks his tongue in exasperation. At himself, I suppose. "My father, Harry. He is my father."
Suddenly, absurdly, I think of a line from a television programme that I overheard Dudley watching once; 'Does not compute.' I laugh and laugh. I cannot stop.
Snape, who, having secured the door to the room, is leading me, laughing hysterically, down the hallway. He opens a door and shows me inside. I am still laughing, so much so that tears are rolling down my cheeks. So much that my stomach and chest hurt. I stick out my tongue to catch a tear, tasting the salty wetness, and I laugh even harder.
And then I decide that it's decidedly not funny, and abruptly stop.
Snape seems disconcerted by the sudden change in my demeanour. He takes advantage of my composure to tell me that this is "Your room."
I look around. There's a fair-sized bed, cream walls, a dark blue rug on the polished floorboards, solid-looking furniture, including a good-sized wardrobe. It's nice. So I tell him so. He looks pleased.
I want to ask him about the man, his father. But I know it's not my place. He has no obligation to explain it to me.
He's staring at me again. "I'm sorry," he says. For what I can't imagine, so I keep silent. "I should have warned you about h- about that room."
I went barging around his house without his permission and he's sorry? I might as well give up trying to understand this man.
"It's warded. So that you can't open the door from the inside." He pauses. "So my father can't open the door from the inside." He glances at me. "He's...not well."
How can he have him in the house? "Oh," I say.
I think he takes this as a question, because he continues. "Dementia. A house elf attends to him most of the time." He quirks his lips up. "How much he hates that in his more lucid moments almost makes up for having him here."
He looks at me and sighs, seemingly hearing my unasked question. "You must understand, Harry, I've done much worse in my service of the Dark Lord. I may have never directly killed anyone, but I was his Potion's Master. I worked for 4 years before he tried to kill you, trying to create potions for him that could maim, torture, kill." His voice is tinged with self-disgust. "I have stood by and seen things done to defenceless innocents by my creations. When Albus informed me that my father was ill, had nowhere else to go-" He shrugs a shoulder. "I could hardly take the moral high-ground and refuse to take him in, could I?"
I gape at him. I don't know whether to be angry with him for being a fucking hypocrite, or angry with Dumbledore for having obviously pressured Se-nape into doing this. I decide that the first makes me more angry right now. "How can you stand there and say that?" I demand, incredulous.
He looks taken aback. "Sorry?"
"Oh what, so I'm not allowed to self-destruct," I sneer, "but you, you can just stand there and justify your little self-flagellation party to yourself because you've done worse?"
"Harry, it's hardly the sa-"
I cut him off. "It is the same! It is the fucking same! Is that what the charms are for, on the house? Making sure that when you see your father, and you go off to remember every wrong you ever might have had a part in, you don't cut too deep, or what?!"
"Harry, you are out of line right now," he states sternly.
I know I am. Inside my head a voice is telling me to shut up before he decides that he's had enough of my shit. But I can't help but interject "you don't deny it then?" before his glare quells me into silence.
He just stares at me. Before long, I look away shamefaced. "'M sorry," I mutter. "I didn't mean it. 'M sorry."
He doesn't say anything. What if this is it? What if my latest proof of my fucking...shitness has got through to him? And he's realised that I'm not worth the trouble. What if he's working out how to tell me that he's had enough, I'm going back to Nurse Duck. Maybe he's deciding whether they'd notice if he hit me. Maybe he-
"Harry. Harry!"
Oh. Good job on ignoring him, freak. He's sure to change his mind and want to keep you now, isn't he?
He has a little furrow in his brow and his hand on my shoulder. "Harry?"
"Y'ssir?"
The furrow deepens a little. "Don't-. Are you-." He shakes his head a little. "It's not a big deal, Harry. You've had a stressful day, and you have every right to feel angry about things. To feel angry with me."
"'Mnot-" I start to protest.
His voice hardens, just a little. "Don't treat me like a fool, Harry. You made your feelings perfectly clear on the subject not one minute ago." Belatedly, he adds, "Justifiably."
"Didn't mean it."
"Please, Harry. It's fine." He clears his throat. "About the charms on the house. They're not...I don't."
"'M sorry." I really didn't mean to say that, to accuse him of that. At least, I don't think I did.
He ignores this. "It's a generalised damage limiting charm. I had it installed primarily due to my father's predilection for violence. It prevents any variety of direct physical violence from causing too much harm." He lends a slight emphasis to 'direct'. I think I'm supposed to pick up a message from that, but if I am, it got lost in transit.
He continues. "Meaning that he cannot hurt you, beyond a slight bruise at most. Neither you me or me you," he adds, like an afterthought.
A tension that I didn't even really know I had releases.
His eyes narrow a little. "Surely you didn't think-." I look away. "Harry-. I wouldn't...have I ever given you that impression?" He looks...I don't know. Upset, I guess.
"I didn't mean it like that," I hasten to reassure him. "I know you're not like that, I do." He looks sceptical. "I do!" And I do. I know he wouldn't hit, say, Ron. Or Neville, even.
But me? He wouldn't mean to, I'm sure. But I do things. I provoke people. I want to explain it to him, but I can't. Not without it coming out wrong. "I do," I repeat again, softer.
"Why then?" he asks, bewilderedly. "Why would you worry about that?"
I shrug.
"Would you be happier staying with someone else?" he demands suddenly. "Minerva, perhaps?"
I shake my head vehemently. "Please-." My voice cracks. "I do. I swear."
"Harry, I don't understand. Help me understand?" He sounds lost.
"I-." Can't.
"Harry," he whispers. And just like that, I think I might be able to. Tell him, that is.
I open my mouth. The hope on his face is almost tangible, and I really, really don't want to disappoint him this time.
I think I really would have told him, too, if it wasn't for Dumbledore's clear, cheery tones coming pouring into the room. "Severus! Harry! There you are!"
I swear Snape's face falls for a second before he pulls on his regular mask. "Headmaster," he replies, polite as anything. "What can we do for you?"
"Severus," Dumbledore chides. "How many times do I have to remind you to call me Albus?"
Eyebrow.
"Ahh, very well, my boy. Straight to the point. I just popped in to see how things were going."
Straight to the point. Right.
"Fine," Snape replies shortly. "Is that all, Albus? This really isn't the best time."
"Right. Of course, my boy. Yes. Do you think you could excuse us for a moment? I just wanted to have a quick word with young Harry here."
Snape looks at me. I plead with him with my eyes, and shake my head as imperceptibly as I can.
"I'm sure whatever you've got to say to him can be said in front of me, Albus," he stipulates stiffly.
"Severus, really, I only want to talk to him."
"Forgive me for not being too eager to leave my-" he flounders "-Harry alone with you, considering that last time you were alone with him you manipulated him into accepting highly invasive anti-privacy charms! Which, may I remind you, led to a breakdown, which you used as an excuse to break our agreement and bundle him off to some ridiculous, worthless excuse for a psychiatric institution!" he shoots back.
"Severus-"
"No." Firmly. Finally. "And whilst we're talking, Albus, I do not appreciate you abusing your access to my floo connection!"
"Of course. My apologies, Severus." He looks grave. "Are you absolutely decided?" he adds, hopefully.
Well, you've got to admire the man's audacity I guess. Severus just looks at him.
"I suppose so. Well, good luck then, boys. Must dash." And, just like that, he leaves.
We stay silent for a moment, then the floo whooshes and breaks the atmosphere.
He just shakes his head. "That man."
Which says it all, really.
-
Sorry for the horrendously long absence. I've tried to make the chapter extra long to make up for it a bit. I hope it's okay. It's a pretty uneventful chapter, I know. I haven't proof-read it, so I hope it's not horrendous. I'm still not sure about where I've taken it in the chapter (with Tobias etc.), so I really hope you think it's alright. I'll try and update sooner this time, I've not got so much to do now so if I don't it'll just be because I'm lazy