Chapter 4
| Living Situations |
Harry couldn't believe it. Snape had left him alone in his personal rooms. He could have done a number of horrible things to the man's belongings: toss his underwear around the front lawns, pour out all his potions, or dig around in his paperwork. Somehow Harry thought better of it. Snape would not have left him alone didn't trust him to behave.
He wandered into the kitchenette, where floors were stone as the rest of the chambers and the cabinetry was wooden, a dark-colored material that looked very old. They felt sturdy and the hinges squeaked when he opened them. Inside there was little more than a cobweb and a loaf of bread wrapped in paper. Harry ripped off a chunk. Standing to the tips of his toes, he saw there was a small jar of red jam.
After a few minutes, which he spent looking for a knife to spread his jam, Harry found himself walking around the chambers, munching. There wasn't much to see. A coat stand (that held a moldy vest and dark green cloak), a desk (on top of which none of the papers were students', so he found no point in rummaging), and a bookshelf were all that he was interested in.
He had never heard of any of the books on the shelf, but he could tell most of them had to do with the Dark Arts. Picking one up, he read the title aloud: "The Art of Muggle Torture." Harry didn't suppose he wanted to read that one.
"Being a Dark Wizard in an Oppressive Society," he read, moving on to the next book. "Strange. I wonder how much Snape suffers from that…."
He continued to drag his finger down the rows of books. Some of them had dust, which left grey-brown prints on his skin, and some looked old enough to fall apart at the slightest touch. For once he didn't need Hermione here to tell him they were fascinating. Most of them were about interesting or horrifying things, but the language was so dull and complicated that he could understand very few of them. At last, he came across a book entitled Light of My Life; it was a novel, not a reference book, about a witch who fell in love with a dragon, but they had to run away from civilized Wizarding society because everyone thought badly of them.
Harry had never read a novel by a wizard, and was immediately entranced. He was so entranced that he didn't notice he had curled up in Snape's wooden chair to read.
***
It was a long wait for Snape to return.
Harry didn't notice a clock anywhere, and with no windows he had no clue as to just how long he had been alone. Going by the groans of his stomach, he decided it was around suppertime. There was more bread left, but he had already eaten half a loaf, and thought it would seem rude to eat all Snape's food.
He had been reading for hours, having nothing better to do.
It was when he was just getting to a really good part of the book that nature called, and after finding that the second door in Snape's chambers led to a storage closet full of potions ingredients, he had found himself confused as to where Snape went to use the bathroom. It occurred to Harry to tinkle into the fireplace and then floo everything that came out to the middle of the ocean, but after a moment that sounded very silly. Plus, he didn't see floo powder anywhere.
Then Harry realized that the bathroom must have been through Snape's room; he hesitated, turned the knob of Snape's bedroom door, and walked in.
He came back out alive, and resumed reading.
It had been difficult to find his way around Snape's bedroom to get to the bathroom, as the torches did not ignite when he entered, but eventually he had finished what he set out to do.
When Harry noticed Snape hovering over him, he realized he had fallen asleep. The man looked a little peeved that Harry was in his chair, but said nothing of it. He guided Harry to the sofa, taking the wooden chair for himself. It took another few minutes of waking up before Harry saw his school trunk sitting nearby, along with a couple sandwiches and a glass of pumpkin juice.
Harry looked at Snape. Snape gestured to the food.
As Harry dove into his meal, Snape began to speak. "I paid a visit to your relatives as you can see."
Harry glanced up, chewing and sipping at the same time.
"They were most unhappy to see me again," Snape said with a smirk. "They began to shout so loudly that I could hardly hear myself say 'Obliviate.'"
Harry choked on large mouthful. "You erased my relatives' memories?"
"Of course," he said, like it was no big deal. "Eventually someone would have found out you were gone, and the Ministry would have went in to investigate. Your relatives knew my appearance, so I would have been too easy to track, especially since they knew you left with me willingly."
"…Oh." Harry looked at the other sandwich, and then at Snape.
Snape nodded, looking almost amused that Harry had finished the first so fast. "I have already eaten."
Harry gave him a small smile, and before he bit into it he asked, "So what will the Dursleys tell the Ministry when they go to investigate now?"
"That a Muggle man with a gun stole you right off the lawn during your morning gardening, and it was all so tragic that they had forgotten to call the police."
Harry shook his head. "The Dursleys wouldn't care about me that much."
"Apparently they do now." Snape settled back more comfortably, his eyes always stuck on Harry no matter what he did. Harry was beginning to find it unnerving.
"So what did you do next?"
"I searched out all your things and returned to Hogwarts."
Looking down, Harry realized he had the book he had been reading was clutched in his hand still. He set it aside, then wrung his hands together, as he chewed the last bit of sandwich. Snape looked as anxious as he felt.
"Do you want me to stay, sir?" asked Harry. "I…I don't think I want to go back to Sirius's house anytime soon."
Snape shrugged a little uncomfortably. "It is up to you, Potter."
He didn't think he wanted to get Snape into trouble for trying to save him either. The man was awful, but…not totally.
"What are my choices?" he wondered, wanting to be sure.
"You may stay here until the fall term begins, at which time I will…work something out. You may return to your Muggles, in which case you would simply explain that the man who kidnapped you found you worthless and annoying, or some such thing…."
Harry stifled a snigger. "You already think that."
Snape acted as though he hadn't said anything. "Or you could go to Dumbledore. Surely he would know what to do with you."
"I can't go to one of my friends' houses?"
"It would seem that would be the same as the last option, don't you agree?"
Harry thought about it. Yes, he did think that if he went to, say, the Burrow, word would get out to the Order that he had left the Dursleys' house, and then he would have to explain everything anyway.
"All right, then," said Harry.
Snape looked startled. "All right what, Potter?"
"I'd like to stay here. If that's all right with you."
Things were still. Snape only looked, and Harry only breathed, waiting. He wondered if Snape had offered to let him stay only to enjoy turning him down. But then, Harry didn't think he'd risk arrest for that.
Snape got to his feet and made toward his bedroom, saying over his shoulder, "Come along," and muttering a spell. Harry realized what the spell was for when his trunk showed up at his side when they arrived in Snape's room.
It was dark like the rest of the chambers until Snape walked in, and then another set of torches lit themselves. The largest thing in the room was a bed. Just one. A nightstand was there also, and a wardrobe, several shelves (that held an assortment of slimy things in jars, some still wiggling), and the bathroom door that Harry had used.
"Have a shower. Your scent is atrocious." Snape had his arms crossed over his chest, and was standing next to the bed, looking down at him.
Harry gathered his toiletries and pajamas from his trunk. This time the torch in the bathroom came on when he entered. Harry sighed. He didn't know what Snape had done, and he wasn't in the mood to ask, but really the man could ask before he went around casting spells on Harry.
When he was finished showering and had returned to the bedroom, Snape was already dressed in a gray nightshirt. It was one like Harry had seen him in during forth year when he had almost been caught out of bed after curfew. Harry blinked. The one bed was now two beds. They were proportioned perfectly to the old one, like Snape had just cut it down the middle with magic. The beds were several feet apart and the nightstand was now between them.
Harry sat on the one that Snape had not.
"This is inappropriate," Snape mumbled, as though it had just occurred to him.
Harry twiddled his thumbs in his lap, and swung his feet. He was cold. He wondered whether it was all right to get under the covers now.
"You will not leave my chambers, ever," Snape said.
"You've already told me that."
"And you will not touch my papers or my ingredients," he continued. "Use anything else as you like. I will not always be here, so you will have to keep yourself entertained."
Harry toed the floor.
"Sleep," he said abruptly. "Nox."
The light vanished. Harry heard Snape getting under his covers. It was too dark. He couldn't see his own hand in front of his face, he thought, but at least he had a very comfortable bed, unlike his at the Dursleys'.
Snape breathed quietly. That was all Harry heard. If he imagined hard enough, he could make believe Snape was someone else. Sirius. Harry smiled. He was sleeping in a dark room, warm under the covers, with Sirius at his side. If he had a nightmare Sirius would be there to tell him everything was okay. And if it was too cold he could cuddle up to his godfather's strong body, and then everything really would be all right.
He would get to do all those things he had never done with Sirius. Those things that family does for one another.
Harry shook his head, blinking back tears.
No. This was the first night of an entire summer with Snape. Not Sirius. He was worried out of his mind, and there would never be anyone here to hold him.
Posted November 1, 2003