This was originally written for Snarry-a-Thon '13 over at the snape_potter Livejournal community. It ended last week, so if you missed it, go check it out. There are a lot of great submissions this year.
If you didn't read this there, it's new to you! Please enjoy.
Prompt: #30: Tired of all the attention after defeating Voldemort, Harry withdraws to the house on Grimmauld Place. He's changed the wards to keep everyone out but doesn't know Severus built his own 'back door' into the house years ago to use as a disaster escape if he needed. Harry's friends convince Severus to go after him.
Betas: Littleoldmeeeee, silverbutterfly13, RosesAreForever23, and londonandtea (I might have PM-bombs a lot of people for beta help.) They wrote back almost right away, ready to help out. I'm still very grateful for their help and advice. Thank you again!
A Hermitage of Two
If one was to go looking for Severus Snape, one only needed to go to Margin Alley. Somewhere on that narrow mud path masquerading as a proper street, there was a dilapidated house Severus had bought sometime after his acquittal. He had even converted the ground floor into a shop of some sort, or so the rumours went.
Actually finding the man, however, was a different matter. His house was just one in a long line of indistinguishable buildings that made up half of Margin Alley. None of the doors had numbers or names painted on them, and the windows were too smeared with grime to see through.
Of course, if you did manage to find Severus, that was no guarantee that he would actually speak to you.
Severus Snape's shop was a dark, musty place, thick with dust and filled with the scent of old books and dried herbs. There was only one window by the door, its panes painted black. The walls were outfitted with shelves crammed with books. Bookcases divided the room into three orderly sections, the neatness of which was destroyed by stacks of books and scrolls on the floor. The shop was a veritable maze of paper and vellum. The only oasis against the invading wave of books was a narrow, perfunctory service counter by the front door, its surface grey with accumulated dust. Above the service counter hung an old pub sign which featured a crown hovering above a large spider.
The bell over the door chimed as a young woman in a pea coat entered the shop. Snowflakes adorned her wool cap and bushy hair. She glanced about the shop as she tugged off her gloves.
"Whatever it is that you want, I don't have it, so go away," a man shouted from somewhere beyond the back wall.
She walked to the edge of the service counter. "I'm looking for Harry!" she called back, trying to speak loud enough to be heard.
Part of the shelving in the back swung outward. Firelight flickered behind Severus as he stepped through the hidden doorway. His face was hollow-cheeked and bloodless in the gloom. The black high-collared robes absorbed the weak light. Her gaze fell on Severus' covered neck first before she looked her former professor in the eye.
"Miss Granger," Severus sneered. The hidden door shut behind him, darkening the shop once more. "Despite what you and no doubt the rest of the Wizarding World might believe, none of these books are for sale, so I suggest you turn around and be on your way." He strode through his maze of a shop towards her, the lack of light not hindering him in the slightest.
"I'm not here for a book," Hermione protested. "I'm here about Harry. Have you seen him?"
Severus paused by the counter. Up close, Hermione could see just how ghoul-like Severus' face had become. His papery skin was stretched taut over his cheekbones and bruised black around his eyes. "Why, in Merlin's name, would you think that Potter is here?"
"Well—"
"Perhaps, Miss Granger, you should instead look for him at his flat? Or hisworkplace? Last I read, he was working at a… Testy's, I believe." He stood behind the counter and stretched out his long white fingers on the dusty surface. "I'm sure you've heard of it. If not, perhaps your parents can take you around, provided they have finally seen the error of their ways and forgiven you."
Hermione glared, her ears turning bright red. "My parents are none of your business," she replied curtly.
Severus smiled mockingly. "So they haven't forgiven you," he commented. "How… unfortunate."
"I said it's none of your business!" Hermione snapped. "All I want to know is if you've seen Harry."
The sneer dropped as he narrowed his eyes. "I have not," he said slowly, accenting each syllable. "Now, if you are done wasting my time, then perhaps you should go look for him at the places he might actually be."
"I already have," Hermione interjected. "I've been to his flat, and to his job, but they haven't seen him. No one has seen him, and I come here, to you, and all you've done is take cheap shots at my family!"
"Please, Miss Granger, I was taking cheap shots at you," Severus corrected. "And if you're so desperate to know where Potter is, perhaps you should consult the Daily Prophet. They'll readily print his address once they know it. Again."
"You just don't care, do you?" she said. "Harry could be dead, or in trouble, and you don't even care?"
Severus' expression shuttered. "Guilt will not work on me, so cease your caterwauling and get out."
Hermione huffed and stuck up her nose, but left all the same, slamming the shop door behind her.
True to form, the next day's Prophet ran a short article above the fold that read:
POTTER THE HERMIT
Harry Quits Muggle Life, Absconds to Former HQ
In a move that has surprised friends, family, and fans alike, Harry Potter has recently moved back into Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London, to find "peace and quiet", according to a close friend. This is just the latest in a series of bizarre decisions made by the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice since You-Know-Who's defeat at Hogwarts last May. While some of his latest exploits, such as his vocal defence of and association with murderers such as Severus Snape, can be attributed to Potter's admirable, albeit foolhardy, nature, his more recent decision to cut ties with the Wizarding World at large have boggled the minds of many of his admirers.
"I think he just wants to be left alone," said a former classmate of Potter's who has been inside Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, a house made famous recently by its connection to the War against He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. "I mean, the place is horrid. No one in their right mind would want to live there on purpose. He's obviously there to get some peace and quiet."
Severus read the article twice before tearing the newspaper into strips. The picture of Harry Potter accompanying the article gave Severus a wide-eyed, besotted look before diving away from the torn edge. Severus tossed the strips into the fire, watching the flames turn pink as they burned the ink away.
The back room, through the virtue of having the fireplace, was warmer and better lit than the front of the house. It was also neater, with a well-used chair and a small table set close to the fire for warmth. A wide cabinet dominated one wall, the doors locked to protect the neatly arranged potion ingredients inside. Cauldrons, ladles, stirring rods, and sundry brewing tools gathered dust as they hung from the ceiling, just within reach if ever needed. Across from the cabinet was a wide oak table, its scarred top wiped clean. A set of narrow stairs led up to the gloomy upper floor. The two windows on either side of the fireplace had been painted over with black paint.
Severus settled deeper into his chair and leisurely tossed scraps of newspaper into the fire. The bell over the front door chimed, interrupting him. "Whatever it is you want, I don't have it, so go away!" he shouted out of habit. He rose to his feet with a groan, the remains of the shredded newspaper falling onto the bare wooden floor.
"I'm here about Harry!" Hermione Granger yelled back at him, causing Severus to roll his eyes. He nudged open the hidden door and stepped into the shop proper.
"Miss Granger," Severus said, the disdain in his voice stretching the vowels of her name. "Do you not read the Prophet, or have you contracted Weasley's natural thickness?"
"I know what the Prophet said this morning," Hermione said, frustration making her throat tight.
"Then you know where Potter is and can leave me in peace." He stood by a particularly high pile of paperbacks and crossed his arms, waiting. She, however, did not leave. Severus' eyebrow rose. "Well?"
"I can't get into Number Twelve," she said.
"And this concerns me, how?"
Hermione glowered at him. "Harry shouldn't be in that house," she insisted. "It's not as safe as it was three years ago, or even last year. Everyone knows where it is and can get inside."
"And yet you failed to get inside yourself?" Severus' lip curled. "Potter is an adult, and he is free to lock himself up in that tomb for as long as he wishes, something you no doubt understand, with your history of respecting others' right to choose."
Hermione's face reddened with anger. "I said my parents are none of your business!"
"Did I mention your parents?" Severus shrugged. "I don't recall doing so, but now that you mention them—"
"Enough about my parents!" she yelled. "This is about Harry, not them!"
"Miss Granger," Severus said coolly, unimpressed by her outburst. "If Potter wishes to turn himself into a hermit, then that is his prerogative."
"So you don't care that no one else can get into that house now?" Hermione said quickly. "What if he gets hurt? There could be all sorts of nasty traps in there—"
"Oh, most certainly," Severus agreed with a nasty smile. "But instead of standing here yelling at me, perhaps a better use of your time would be to go to Grimmauld Place and yell at him." Severus paused. "I suggest you use one of those… megahorns? I'm certain your parents would be more than happy to show you how to use one, if you've forgotten how to do so yourself."
Severus barely finished his sentence before Hermione furiously stormed out. He grimaced at the slammed door and let out a sigh. He went back to his fire and tossed in a handful of Floo powder. "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place," he said, dipping his head into the green flames, only to be pushed away.
He sat back on his heels and stared at the fire, his brow furrowed. Something was blocking Severus from reaching Number Twelve by Floo. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and hauled himself back up to his feet. He would need his winter cloak if he planned to go out that day.
Severus hid in the shadows of an alley just within sight of Grimmauld Place, his body weak and flushed from Apparating. He wiped at the cold sweat on his brow and checked that the black goggles covering half his face were secure. The empty square was muddy with melting snow. The winter sun shone much too brightly in the cloudless sky. A great number of flowers and candles had been left on the pavement in front of Number Twelve.
A young woman pushing a pram down the street stared at the tribute mound in confusion before spotting Severus lurking in the shadows nearby. She gave a small startled gasp and walked hurriedly on, glancing once or twice over her shoulder at him before turning the corner.
Severus self-consciously touched the goggles over his face before straightening and striding towards Number Twelve. The steps leading up to the door appeared as he drew closer. They were covered in graffiti, most of which was obscured by the statement "We Believe in Harry" written in large white letters. The door, too, had been defaced; a stencilled phoenix in red and gold had been spray-painted on the wood, its wings outstretched and its beak opened in song.
Severus stared at the dented serpent knocker and gave the door a tap with his wand. It did not swing open. He pursed his lips and rang the bell instead. Something inside let out a scream, but as the echo of the loud, clanging bell faded away, no one came to the door. Severus sighed and walked down the steps. The house squeezed itself back into hiding as Severus stepped over the bouquets.
Behind the houses facing Grimmauld Place was an unused backstreet, the entrance blocked off by a pair of wheelie bins. Severus easily shoved them aside. On either side of the backstreet were tiny yards enclosed with wire fences. A beagle barked and jumped at Severus as he passed its little fenced-in home.
Severus stopped and stared at the fence separating numbers Eleven and Thirteen. He took three steps back from the fence, drew his wand and dropped down to a squat. He ran his wand along the cracks in the concrete, searching for the thin, invisible edge of magic he had left behind years ago.
After a moment, his wand became slightly stuck as it brushed against something intangible and invisible. He bared his teeth in triumph as he touched the spot and found it warm despite the bitter February cold. He gave the spot a tap with his wand and stepped back.
The beagle's yapping grew erratic as the ground before Severus sank, forming a narrow staircase of cement and dirt that led down into the earth. Severus stormed down the stairs and into the dark tunnel, his cloak billowing out behind him. The little dog's barks were suddenly cut off as the entrance shut itself behind Severus, sealing him underground.
He stood still for a moment, surrounded by the pitch black and moist chill of the tunnel. He pushed the goggles up into his hair and rubbed his aching eyes, letting out a sigh of relief.
After a moment, he made his way down the dark tunnel. His hands ghosted along the walls, the chalk and red clay melted smooth with magic. His fingertips could distinguish between the plaster of buildings long since demolished and the black silt of the Thames.
After a few hundred feet, the tunnel stopped, the way blocked off by two wide planks of wood. They stood side by side, a gap of about two inches between them. Beyond the planks, there was only more darkness.
Severus touched the tip of his wand where the inner edge of the right-hand plank touched the roof of the tunnel. He slowly ran his wand down the side, once again searching for the kernel of magic to let him in. Half-way down, his wand snagged itself on that kernel. Severus carefully tugged that bit of magic towards himself.
In response, the planks swung open towards him, revealing the inside of an empty wardrobe. Sunlight shone through the cracks. Severus hastily pulled the goggles back into place before the light aggravated his vision. He could hear bangs and crashes on the other side of the wardrobe door, as well as Mrs Black's dulcet tones as she shrieked, "TRAITOR! HALF-BLOOD! SCUM!"
He stepped into the wardrobe, taking care to duck underneath the hanger bar that hung across at eye-level. He jiggled the wardrobe door open, only to reel back from the sunlight, his eyes unable to endure the bright light after the darkness of the tunnel. He hit his head against the bar and bent over with a groan.
"Do you REALLY THINK that DESTROYING MY HOME will get rid of ME!?"
Severus rubbed at the bump forming on the back of his head, blinked away the moisture in his eyes, and stepped out of the wardrobe. The brightly lit bedroom was empty. Two twin beds were pushed against the wall.
"You HALF-BLOOD UPSTART!"
Severus stepped out of the room and onto the landing. Harry Potter was two floors below in the front hall, his black hair white with plaster dust and the sleeves of his sweater rolled up to his elbows. He was hammering away at what looked like a chisel jammed between the wall and Mrs Black's portrait frame.
"Potter!" Severus yelled, gripping the banister with both hands.
Harry's head turned round. The fierce, angry determination on his face disappeared, replaced by a look of surprise. "Snape?" He dropped the hammer and ran up towards him.
"HALF-BLOOD SCUM! Contaminating MY HOUSE with THEIR FILTH! GET OUT!"
Harry climbed the stairs two steps at a time, his eyes never leaving Severus' face. Severus tried to walk down to meet him, but his legs were shaking. They met on the stairs between the first and second floors. Harry leaned towards him, not quite touching Severus' arm before forcing his hands back down to his sides.
"What— what are you doing here?" he asked weakly, as if on the verge of laughter or tears. His face and clothes were streaked with dust. "How did you get in?"
Severus resisted the urge to grab hold of Harry. He held onto the banister, instead. "I have my ways," he said.
"How DARE you walk away while I'M TALKING TO YOU!"
Severus grabbed Harry's wrist and dragged him into the drawing room. The shut door muffled Mrs Black's screaming.
The drawing room was much cleaner than it had ever been in recent memory. The windows had been washed and stripped of their moth-eaten curtains, letting in the winter sunlight. The cabinets were empty, and the glass doors gleamed. The thin carpets had been swept clean of desiccated insect corpses. Severus covered his face with his hand, his eyes still adjusting to the brightness. Harry cupped Severus' elbow and led him to the sofa.
"I am not an invalid, Potter," Severus protested even as he allowed Harry to guide him.
"I know," Harry replied softly. They sat side by side in front of the cold fireplace. Harry flicked his wand at the windows, which slowly turned smoky and dark. "How's that?"
Severus lowered his hand. "Better," he finally said, making no move to take off the goggles.
Harry looked at Severus' face, his eyes darting back and forth in search of the man's eyes. He reached out hesitantly, his fingertips brushing against Severus' temples. He slowly pulled the goggles away. Severus' eyes were closed, but tentatively fluttered open.
Severus' eyes were so black, it was difficult to see where the irises ended and the dilated pupils began. Harry ran his thumb across the dark hollow underneath Severus' eye, brushing against the lashes. Severus' eyelids lowered as he allowed Harry's fingers to soothe his skin with his warm touch.
"You're trembling," Harry said quietly.
"I Apparated here," Severus replied. Harry's fingers stilled for a breath before tracing a path up to Severus' hairline. "I'm not an invalid, Potter," he repeated with a bit more bite in his voice. "I can still use magic."
"I didn't say anything," Harry said, smiling fondly. He ran his hand through Severus' hair. Severus leaned into the touch.
"Down the mountains! Through the vale! From the forest to the sea!" a chorus of people sang out just underneath the drawing room windows, disturbing the quiet moment. "He wandered! He searched! He came to save me!"
Harry withdrew his hand, surprised by the sudden interruption. He sighed as the song continued, his shoulders slumping. "Great, just great," he muttered.
A group of about seven or eight people stood in front of the tribute mound, their faces turned up to the sky. They wore bright red scarves embroidered with gold thread. One was enthusiastically banging away on a tambourine, while the rest held their hands together as if in prayer. Harry went to the window and glared down at the chorus, his expression dark.
"He laid down his life! He laid down his soul! He laid down his life! Fo-oh-or us all!"
Severus slowly stood and moved to join him. "A cult," he said, a sardonic smile forming on his lips. "Do they believe you walk on water as well?"
"They worship you, too, you know," Harry countered. "They call you the shield and the messenger."
"Preposterous."
"Through the night! Through the rain! Through the burn and the cold! He hid! He fought! His heart is like gold!"
The song suddenly stopped as the chorus noticed a pair of community support officers in fluorescent yellow jackets coming up the street. They ran off, their red scarves streaming behind them like banners. The support officers started making chase, but stuttered to a stop in front of the pile of flowers and gifts. They spoke, the shorter of the pair pointing at the mound, before both glanced up at the building.
"You need to clear that mountain away, Potter," Severus said as the taller support officer talked into the radio attached to her jacket. "It would make the place less attractive to nuisances."
"And do what with it, throw it in the trash?"
"I'm certain Granger would be happy to give you some suggestions." The support officers wandered off, continuing their patrol. "It'll certainly stop her from harassing me every morning."
Harry stared at Severus. "Is that why you're here? Because Hermione kept bugging you?"
"And I want her to cease 'bugging' me, yes," Severus admitted freely. Harry's eyes lowered. "She's making herself ill, convinced that you'll come to harm by hiding away in this hovel."
Harry's lips curled inward for a moment before flattening into a smirk. "Well," he said, his voice tight with forced cheer. "I'll send her an owl and let her know I'm alright."
Severus frowned and glanced out the window, only to wince. He put his goggles back on. "Is there a reason why no one can get through the front door?" he asked.
Harry shuffled away from Severus, his eyes downcast. "I charmed it that way," he said. "The whole house actually. I worked on it for days. I disconnected the Floo. I made sure every way in was sealed off…"
"Must have been very difficult, considering all the hard work the Order had put into the house already," Severus pointed out.
Harry ignored the sarcasm. "There should be no way in and out." He stopped and stared at Severus. "But you got in."
"I had a secret way in." Harry opened his mouth, but Severus quickly waved away Harry's concern. "I created it years ago," he said. "Using it required about as much magic as lighting a match."
"Depends on how you light a match," Harry rejoined.
Severus stared out the window. The worshippers had returned to kneel in front of the mound of gifts. "If you're so determined to escape your adoring public, you should pick a less obvious bolt-hole than a defaced cultural landmark."
Harry sighed loudly. "You say that, but I've already tried everything else. The only thing left would be to move into my vault at Gringotts, but the goblins aren'texactly eager to see me again."
The cultists covered their heads with their scarves and covered their faces with their hands. Their muttered prayers were unintelligible.
"I do know of one place you haven't tried," Severus said softly. "Quiet, out of the way, and, as far as I know, not constantly besieged by flowers and zealots." Harry turned to look at Severus, who straightened but did not look away from the group below. "But it is merely a suggestion," he added stiffly.
"I don't want to be in the way," Harry said. Severus' head tilted towards Harry, but the black goggles hid his eyes. "Besides, once word gets out that I've moved again, they'll just harass me there. You wouldn't want that."
"I think you're underestimating my ability to repel even the most tenacious of busybodies without having to resort to curses." Severus smiled, remembering his own cleverness.
Harry grimaced, his mouth falling slightly open. "You mentioned Hermione's parents to her, didn't you."
One of the cultists raised her hands in the air, waiting for an unseen benediction. "Bless Harry Potter!"
"He who lived twice!" the rest of the cultists chanted, raising their hands as well. "The Vanquisher of the Dark Lord and the Defeater of All Darkness!"
"Bless Albus Dumbledore!"
"The Teacher and the Pillar! The Foundation Stone upon which we all stand!"
"They have to be joking," Severus muttered with disgust.
"Bless Severus Snape!"
"The Shield and the Messenger! The Guardian and the Guide of the Boy Saviour!"
"Bless Harry Potter!"
"He who lived twice! Who guided the Guardian back from the dead!"
"Right, I'm off," Severus declared, storming out of the drawing room. His robes flared out behind him.
Harry chased after Severus, a grin on his face. "What, you don't want to hear what they say about Ron and Hermione?" Severus stopped in front of the wardrobe that would take him back outside. Harry took a look around the room Severus had led him into and exclaimed, "Hold on, this was the room Ron and I were put in that summer." He shot Severus a look of incredulity as Severus opened the wardrobe door. "Your secret way in was in my bedroom?"
Severus paused then turned around. "Do you want to come along?" he asked. "Or are you keen on listening to more hymns?"
"I—" Harry faltered. The goggles made reading Severus' expressions difficult. "No." He let out a weak laugh. "I think I've had enough hymns for today."
"Then give me your hand," Severus said, offering his left hand to Harry. Harry took it without hesitation. Their fingers entwined, slotting themselves into place with ease. "You can Apparate us home."
"I thought you're not an invalid."
Severus' lips puckered even as the corners of his mouth lifted. "Come along." He drew out his wand and after a bit of searching, led Harry into the dark tunnel on the other side.
That very same day, the Evening Prophet ran a photograph with a headline that read:
OUT OF THE PHOENIX' S NEST:
Recluse Snape Draws Potter Out of Solitude
Severus glared at the photograph in disbelief. It was of himself, standing in the alley, helping Harry out of the tunnel. Harry was grinning up at Severus, a smitten look in his eyes. Severus was smiling back, his thin lips pulled up slightly as Harry leaned up towards him.
He tossed the paper at the general direction of the worktable and stared into the fire. Footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Are you sure you don't mind if I stay here with you?" Harry asked as he came down the stairs, a lit candle in his hand. His hair was still wet from the shower. The robe he wore was hitched up at the waist by a belt. "I know how much you like your privacy, and—"
"Potter," Severus barked, startling Harry. "If I had minded, I wouldn't have offered in the first place."
"No. Right. You're right," Harry muttered, his gaze casting about for something to look at other than the angry man sitting in front of the fire. He spotted theEvening Prophet on the floor and picked it up. His face reddened then paled when he saw the photograph. "They're—" He cleared his throat. "They're quick, aren't they."
"I should have realised someone would be lurking around, waiting for a scoop," Severus muttered. "And now—" Severus' cheeks went red and he shook his head.
"They'll probably come lurking around here now," Harry said. "I'm sorry."
"What have you to be sorry for, Potter?" Severus lashed out. He visibly tried to rein in his frustration and let out a sigh. "Don't worry. I know how to drive irritants away."
"With insults about their parents."
Severus looked up as Harry leaned against the fireplace, his arms crossed. His expression, however, reflected his worry. Harry pushed off the fireplace and moved to stand in front of Severus' chair. He slowly sank down to his knees in front of Severus and placed his hand on the very edge of the armrest.
Harry's cheeks and chin were dark with stubble. Severus caressed the growth and ran the pad of his thumb over Harry's bottom lip. Even in the gloom, it was hard to miss the redness of Harry's lips as they gently parted underneath Severus' touch. Harry's eyes were dark as Severus' cool fingers curled underneath Harry's chin. Severus lowered his head for a kiss.
The bell over the front door chimed plaintively as someone banged on the locked door. Severus' hand fell away. "If it's Granger, I will hex her."
Harry rested his forehead against Severus' and chuckled weakly. His hand curled around Severus' arm.
If one was to go looking for Harry Potter, one only needed to go to Margin Alley. This was an exasperating journey, down a feculent alley lined with interchangeable buildings and into the Stygian maze of paper and vellum that was Severus Snape's shop, or so the rumours went.
Very few attempted the journey, especially after the incident on Valentine's Day, or the Night of a Thousand Boils, as some had come to call it. Severus' unpleasant nature and penchant for insulting visitors alone would drive even the most persistent devotee away.
If, however, you did manage to find Harry, do not be surprised when you catch him staring at Severus Snape with an affectionate look in his eyes, and it would be best to refrain from commenting when you see the look being returned.
-The End-