A Blue Parcel
Harry cursed under his breath as he clambered up the rocky path towards the castle, hyper-aware that he was more than a little too late to make curfew. He hadn't thought to bring his invisibility cloak or the map, as he'd arrived at Hagrid's in the mid-afternoon with hours to spare. But a Sunday invitation to tea had turned into a rare break from the tumult of insanity that was his sixth year; so he had happily stayed put, relieved once again that he'd been forgiven for not continuing Care of Magical Creatures at N.E.W.T. level.
He knew Hagrid could see the exhaustion in his face, and while having a cup of strong tea and an attempt at a rock cake with his friend was not an irregular occurrence, the hours of conversation were definitely aimed at cheering him up somewhat. And he was immensely grateful. Not only for the time and the distraction, but for the belated birthday gift he was now balancing precariously in his arms, its blue wrapping getting somewhat dishevelled as he dashed across the courtyard.
The sky above was growing dim with fading autumn light, the ever-darkening tone ticking time down like an overbearing clock.
When he finally reached the top of the exterior steps, he breathed a sigh of relief at the ajar doors; slipping inside noiselessly, wary of how quiet the entrance hall was. He half-expected Filch to jump out of the shadows – or at least hear Mrs Norris' evil hiss from some far-off corner.
Just as he moved to head to the main foyer and get back to the safety of the common room, a voice that Harry would have gladly traded for Filch's any day sounded from behind him.
He turned in dread to see Snape stepping through an open archway. Dressed in his usual black and wearing a distasteful look, the man was a picture of damnation to the caught Gryffindor.
"Foolishly wandering the grounds, Potter?"
Biting his tongue in frustration at the silky tone and his own shoddy luck, Harry did his best to keep a neutral expression.
"The doors were open."
It was a lame attempt to deny the truth. And judging by Snape's bored features, he thought so to.
"It is well beyond the hour you are permitted to be outside."
"I was with Hagrid," he argued. Though, even as he said it, he didn't dare dream that it would get him off the hook. Hagrid was a teacher, but he doubted that meant anything to the figure in front of him.
Snape simply sneered.
Well, that answered that.
"Honestly, Potter. Do you think yourself above the rules?"
"N-"
The man interrupted him immediately.
"I suppose you think it beneath you, bowing to the mediocrity of school regulations."
"That's not-"
"Detention tomorrow evening. Immediately after dinner, my office."
A year ago, maybe he would have fought it. He might have thought it worth fighting. But the younger wizard simply glared, his shoulders dropping in irritated defeat. He said nothing.
If he had been paying attention, Harry would have noted the small rise of his professor's left brow at the lack of reaction, before his mouth dropped into a familiar scowl.
"Did you hear me, Potter?"
The words came out almost agitated. He glanced back up hatefully.
"Yes, sir," he ground out.
Eager as he was to get away, Harry said no more, subconsciously clutching Hagrid's gift closer to his chest. As he did however, the paper gave a light crinkling sound and Snape's beetle-black eyes dropped down to consider it, his scowl deepening.
"Contraband goods?"
Harry froze.
"Open it. I won't allow any additional Weasley-related items inside these walls."
The boy-who-lived swallowed.
"It's nothing like that."
Snape looked unimpressed. "Open it."
"No."
The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it, immediately kicking himself. He knew that a blatant refusal would not only ensure Snape's suspicion, but was likely to incense his wrath.
Dread filtered down his body when his professor gave him a cold smile, the taller figure aware that he had touched a nerve.
"No?"
"It's a birthday present! From Hagrid," he blurted out, hoping the sentiment would dissuade the cold-blooded man from further interest.
"Indeed?"
Thinking he had gotten away with it for a moment, Harry began to turn – therefore missing the terrifyingly quick draw of Snape's wand. It was only when the paper neatly fell aside and the contents flew from his arms in all directions that he realised what had happened.
Wide eyes watched from behind glasses as dozens of photographs, postcards and letter extracts spilled into the air and littered the floor like precious confetti. He looked down at a grinning James Potter that had settled next to his foot, somewhat disguising a characteristically calm image of Dumbledore raising a glass in toast lying beneath it.
They were all memories. Gathered by Hagrid – and Sirius, he'd been told – over several weeks the year before as a gift for Harry. A refresh and bolster for the photo album given to him his first year – and something to keep the best years of Sirius' life alive in his godson's mind.
Between the gamekeeper and his godfather, they had reached out to over forty old friends and Order members to amount a wealth of material on not just Lily and James, but the people that were important in their lives. Hagrid had employed hours that evening going through everything with him, introducing him to unknown figures and particular moments in time that might have been lost.
Harry thought he must have been looking down at his dad for some time, for when he finally raised his eyes, he quickly felt delayed anger and embarrassment flood through him at the absolute invasion of privacy.
He wanted to curse every inch of the horrible man in front of him.
But before he could let his temper loose and open his mouth, he caught sight of Snape's bloodless face and everything in him stopped for a moment, not quite understanding the unusual sight.
The man was completely motionless; his wand still slightly raised and seemingly forgotten. But he wasn't looking at Harry in satisfaction or ridicule. Instead, his gaze was fixed a metre to Harry's left. Following the line of sight almost fearfully, green eyes came to a stop at a picture of his mum.
Lily Potter was laughing in the frame. Not the light kind of smile he had seen in other pictures of her. No, this was full, free laughter. It wasn't serene or soft, it was pure joy and fun. Her eyes kept darting toward the right-hand side of the frame, the focus of her amusement hidden out of sight. Harry would never know why she was laughing like that, but as soon as he had seen it, his shaky hands had picked it up from Hagrid's scrubbed wooden table and drank in every aspect.
And now Snape was staring as intently at that picture as he had done, but there was nothing to read in his face. It was stony and set, almost devoid of anything human.
Harry didn't want to speak, wasn't sure what to say. His fury bled out of him almost immediately, leaving a weird feeling in his gut.
"I'm-"
He had no clue what words his tongue would have formed to follow, but he was saved the trouble of ever knowing. As soon as he had spoken, the professor's eyes snapped to his so fast that Harry almost took a step back in shock.
There was no sneer, even now. Snape's face was weirdly waxy.
The man's sight didn't fall to the floor again, instead he waved his wand and every spilled piece flew through he air and settled back inside the wrapping Harry still held in two hands, the paper folding over itself securely, hiding the contents from sight once more.
"I suggest you get back to Gryffindor tower, Potter."
Bewildered at the low tone aimed his way – a slight bite, but no trace of cruelty, recognisable in its delivery – Harry turned on his heel and took his escape as it was offered.
He didn't look back once, an uncomfortable feeling trickling down his spine at the oddness of the entire encounter. Even in the warm atmosphere of the common room, his gift safely tucked away in his trunk, Harry still felt a twinge of unease.
The discomfort followed him throughout the next day, with him as he walked the unpleasant trip to Snape's office for his detention after dinner.
Stranger still, the professor wasn't there when he arrived.
The office was locked, so Harry waited outside the door for over twenty minutes. It should have been a pleasant surprise, but he knew with certainty that Snape's diligent punctuality and disturbingly sharp mind wouldn't simply allow him to be late or forget a punishment doled out to his most hated student.
But even still, he had to eventually give up. For Snape never showed.
End