Seven Drops and Asphodel Blooms

Summary: When Harry blows up his aunt during the summer, Dumbledore is much quicker to react. Snape finds him far before the Minister does, but his plan of dropping him off with a lecture and half a dozen additional summer assignments doesn't work out.

In which Harry spends the summer at Spinner's End.

Chapter 6

Even though Harry had asked, he was still taken aback when Snape returned from the Dursleys levitating Harry's trunk at his side.

He briefly forgot that he and Snape hated each other's guts, ran up to his belongings and started pulling out books to check if anything was missing. Snape had even brought his broom. "Now you've got even more books you can force me to memorize."

"It hardly matters to me how productively you choose to spend your summer," said Snape. "Though you can no longer use the excuse of missing books, should you fail to complete your Potions assignment."

"Not like you'd have believed me," Harry muttered, turning pages in the Quidditch book Ron had once given him. "How did you even get these?"

"I encountered a centaur on the streets who bestowed them upon me in exchange for a phoenix feather."

Harry pointedly did not roll his eyes. "How did you get the Dursleys to hand them over?" Harry would have paid a decent amount of Galleons to watch Snape face off against them.

Then again, it was more than likely that they'd spent a pleasant afternoon tea bonding over how much they all hated Harry.

Harry looked up when Snape didn't offer an answer. From his hand dangled a garbage bag, and inside of it... Harry went stiff, recognizing a horrid puce-colored sweater he'd gotten after his cousin had outgrown it. On top of it lay several old drawings he'd made with crayons Dudley had stomped on in a rage when they'd both been four.

The last time he'd seen them had been before moving into Dudley's second bedroom.

"... Where did you get those?"

Snape pressed his lips together. He hovered a distance away from the sofa, making no move to sit down or hand over the bag. "Your trunk was locked inside of a cupboard," he said flatly. "I found things other than school supplies."

Harry fought the urge to shoot to his feet. A shrill ringing filled his ears. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Snape scoffed. "I believe your relatives speak quite for themselves, Potter. I've seen enough to conclude that your childhood was–"

"Fine," Harry snapped. "My childhood was fine. And I'm not a kid. Stop acting like I am."

"Apologies." Snape raised a mocking eyebrow. "It wasn't my intention to give the impression that this was up for debate."

"Whatever you saw at the Dursleys–"

"Was enough to paint an enlightening picture."

"–wasn't a big deal."

"Of course," Snape said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Any loving family ensures their children's obedience by locking them up. Withholding food. Threatening them with–"

"It wasn't like that!" Harry shouted, searing embarrassment surging up in his chest. "You're just– You're blowing it all out of– It's not like I couldn't handle it."

"Could you," Snape said dryly.

Harry scowled, trying to cover up the shame settling heavily in his stomach. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"And what a symbol of health and wellbeing you are."

Harry was suddenly hyper-aware of the old, formless clothes hanging off of his too skinny frame.

Anger boiled up in scalding waves, fanned by the pent-up frustration of days' worth of tension. Harry had waited for the other shoe to drop. Now it felt more like a piano had smashed down on top of his head.

"Mind your own business!"

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Heed your tone."

But Harry was beyond caring. He hadn't realized how numb his hatred for Snape had grown over the summer until it flared up as fiery as on the day Snape had first humiliated him in front of his Potions class. Of all the people who could have learned about the Dursleys, he would have chosen Malfoy over Snape.

"How would you feel if I dug up dirt from your past?" Harry's fist trembled with badly suppressed rage. Words kept bubbling over his lips in a heated stream. "Are you gonna use it against me? That's what you were planning from the start, wasn't it?"

"Lower your voice, Potter."

"You're gonna tell all the Slytherins and have a nice, long laugh. Or were you just looking for inspiration for the next time you feel like–"

"Control yourself," Snape interrupted, his eyes blazing.

"Or what?" Harry snapped. "In case you forgot, you still haven't settled on that."

"May I remind you that I've retrieved your belongings only because you've requested it? Had I known the level of ungratefulness–"

"So now you want a gold star for acting like a bloody decent person for once?"

"Enough." Snape surged to his feet.

Harry's mouth snapped shut. The only other time he'd seen Snape this angry had been in his second year, when Ron and he had flown the Weasleys' car to Hogwarts and had somehow managed to not be expelled for it.

"I've had enough of you for the day," Snape hissed. His hand shook at his side as though it took him great effort not to draw his wand. "Go to the guest room. Don't come out for the rest of the day."

"Not the wardrobe?" Harry bit out, almost tauntingly.

"... No." Snape closed his eyes. He bared his teeth, then pressed together his lips tightly. "Not the wardrobe."

Harry ran out of anger to fuel him. He felt strangely light – like he'd been hollowed out and was now missing half of himself. His tongue seemed to have turned to lead.

He grabbed his trunk and his broom before Snape could get the idea to confiscate either and hurried up the stairs as quickly as his bulky luggage allowed him to.

I know we haven't been close, but it would mean a lot to me if you came. You're probably not eager to find out what the ceremony is like for our kind, but Tuney! It's my wedding!

Severus finished the letter and picked up the next.

It was wonderful. I wish you could have made it. It was a small affair – I can't go into details, but we've got a lot going on...

He took the next.

I wish you could see him. He's got the most precious little nose, and hair as black as his father's. I'm sure you understand. You've always wanted to have kids. I can't take my eyes off him!

Severus closed his eyes. He breathed out raggedly and put the letter away, careful not to crinkle it by accident.

It had occurred to him after reading the first dozen that the decent thing to do would have been to give the letters to Potter immediately. Severus had never claimed to be a decent man. He'd kept reading.

Guess what, Tuney! He rolled over for the first time! I've never been this proud of another human being.

I just know you'd love him.

Severus traced the ink drawn by Lily's hand and was careful to skip all the lines that mentioned her husband by name. It became less difficult by the end. She'd mostly written about Ha– about the bra– about Potter.

I've never seen a happier baby. I wish you could see him, Tuney – we celebrated his birthday this week, and it was the most wonderful thing. I tried making a cake – can you believe I haven't gotten any better at it? – but it burned, so we picked one up from the store.

We shouldn't have bothered. A friend of ours came over, and she brought us the loveliest self-made lemon drizzle.

Things are hectic right now, but I really want to see you. Won't you write back?

Love,

Lily

She'd sent a picture with the letter. It showed a toddler stuffing his face with mashed up chunks of cake. Lily must have taken it the Muggle way, because it didn't move.

Severus' finger hovered over Lily's signature, afraid to smudge ink that had dried over a decade ago. Minutes earlier he'd been tempted to throw Potter out into the streets, toss his belongings after him and lock the door.

Severus buried his face in his hand and clenched his jaw tightly. Lily's letters had drained all the anger out of him and left... Severus wasn't sure what they'd left.

Severus found himself wandering the nicer parts of his home town until his feet had carried him to the old Muggle library. Unlike London the town held little traces of the magical community, and in stark contrast to most wizards, Severus had no trouble blending in with Muggles.

Had he stayed, he and Potter would have inevitably hurdled towards their next screaming match. If he intended them to miraculously survive the holidays, he would need to figure out how to avoid letting Potter's temper fan his own.

Short of utilizing a Silencing Charm or locking the boy into the guest room until they both cooled down, Severus figured that making himself scarce was the easiest way of achieving his goal.

"Whatcha lookin' for?"

A little Muggle urchin poked his head into the aisle of books Severus had picked at random. Severus threw him an irritated look. Regrettably, his Muggle clothes had not the same intimidating effect as a pitch-black wizard robe.

"You should ask the li-bri-an if ya have trouble findin' whatcha need." The boy pointed at a tidy front desk.

"If I were in need of assistance," Severus said snidely, "I would ask the librarian myself."

The boy shrugged and took off. An elderly woman whisper-shouted after him. "Jonathan! Get your butt in a chair or out of my library. You know the rules."

To Severus' chagrin, she walked right up to him. He eyed her outrageously patterned blouse with distaste. Carrot earrings dangled from her ears. Her socks were striped. She asked, not unkindly, "What do you need?"

"Nothing." Severus eyed the row of books in front of him. They were titled 'historical fiction'.

The librarian was undeterred. "That frown don't look like you're here for nothing."

Severus breathed slowly through his nose. He gave her a frosty glare and said, "Nothing you would be able to assist with."

The librarian looked at him over the rim of her glasses. She astonishingly resembled Professor McGonagall whenever she felt the need to remind Severus of the fact that he'd once sat in her class as a student himself.

"Give it a shot," she said. "You might be surprised."

"Unless you can procure a miraculous solution on how to deal with an ill-tempered teenager, I suggest you refrain from harassing your patrons," Severus drawled.

The librarian made a thoughtful noise at the back of her throat. "Anger management, hm? This way."

Severus was so startled, he accidentally followed.

"Any details?" The librarian poked her head into an aisle, changed her mind and steered for the other end of the library with a slight limp. "Might help to narrow it down."

She scanned the titles in front of her at a breakneck speed. They'd made their way into a section titled 'Applied Psychology'.

"I work as a teacher," Severus said curtly, fumbling to catch the books she shoved into his arms. "It has come to my attention that a student under my care has come from a... troubled home."

The librarian hummed. She tugged a strand of greying hair behind her ear. "I'll throw in some background reading." She pulled out a book only to reshelve it elsewhere. "The kid still living there?"

Severus scanned the title of the topmost book in his pile. Bold letters proclaimed 'Taming a Powerful Emotion' on a deeply red cover. "No."

"Good for him." She nodded at the books. "No miracle solutions, but a whole lot better than nothing." She headed back to her desk. "Take a peek and holler if it's not what you need."

True to the librarian's word, the books provided him with no miracle solution for any of his Potter-related problems. Most of them made Severus scoff about their airy, vague or unnecessarily bumptious wording.

If he'd gained nothing else from his visit, he felt at least significantly calmer than when he'd left.

The next day, Harry couldn't decide whether to feel anxious or defiant. He'd indulged in vague fantasies of escaping through the window and starting a new life as a Muggle street performer after Snape had unceremoniously ordered him to come downstairs.

Harry faintly wondered if he'd at last reached the end of his stay at Spinner's End.

The tension in the kitchen was so thick that it felt suffocating. Given the choice, he would gladly face the entire Slytherin Quidditch team while riding a lawn mower if it meant he got to lock himself in the guest room until it was time to leave for the next school year.

"I do not wish to discuss yesterday's disagreement further," Snape started. His eyes were fixed on one corner of the ancient kitchen wallpaper. "However, to ensure that we do not maim each other over the remainder of the summer, I propose we make... adjustments."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"Exactly what I've said." Snape glared at the wall so heatedly, Harry half expected the wallpaper to catch on fire. "I believe we've established that you enjoy being here as little as I enjoy housing you."

Harry ought to be marking the occasion on a calendar. Snape and he seeing eye to eye on something? Somewhere out there, a unicorn must have just sprouted wings.

"Seeing as we're stuck with each other for the rest of the summer–"

"Hold on," Harry interrupted. "What about the Dursleys? I know they're not exactly thrilled about taking me back now, but..."

Something flickered over Snape's face. He smoothed his expression over before Harry could place it. "You're not going back to them."

"What, for the summer?"

"You will not be returning to them at all."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. He felt like he'd flown up to one of Hogwarts' towers only for his broom to disappear once he'd reached the highest point.

He gawked at Snape. "Not ever?"

Snape met his gaze for the first time. His lips were pinched tightly. "Do you wish to?"

"What– I–" Harry sputtered. "No, but... How does that even work? Where will I be staying?" For a brief, terrifying moment Harry imagined spending all future holidays with his Potions professor. He'd rather take that free fall from the Astronomy tower.

Snape hesitated. "That is yet to be determined."

Weren't it for the uncertainty, Harry was sure his heart would have been soaring.

Snape carried on as if he hadn't just turned Harry's life on its head. He didn't have to worry about having a place to sleep for the next summer break. He hadn't just learned that he'd left the only relatives he'd ever known for the last time without even a goodbye.

He wasn't left reeling to figure out whether he ought to feel sad about it.

"I've no intention to continue as we have thus far." Snape paused. "It has become apparent that you are used to a quite... specific form of domestic life."

Harry bristled at Snape's wording. Before he could plunge them right back into yesterday's fight, Snape silenced him by raising one hand.

"Your relatives are horrifically incapable of taking care of a child, and they should have never gotten custody of you."

Harry tried – and failed – to find anything mocking about Snape's words. "Tell me about it," he muttered instead.

Snape's lips thinned. For once, the expression didn't look angry. "Knowing more about your background has made me understand some of your behavior since coming to live here."

Only Snape's look of warning stopped him from blurting out some of the retorts that collected on his tongue like rainwater in an overspilling barrel. Snape made him sound like some abused shelter animal.

"As I haven't felt the need to do so before," Snape continued, "allow me to specify what consequences there are to living here."

Harry sat up straighter. Now they were getting somewhere. He had no clue why Snape had waited for as long as he did. He'd never been shy to traumatize his students by describing in intricate detail what would happen, should they dare to break his rules in class.

Snape folded his hands on top of the table and leaned forward. "I have never, nor will I use physical force as a form of punishment."

That one was easy enough to believe. Why would Snape lay a hand on him when he could just use his wand?

"The same goes for the deprivation of food or similar acts."

He'd sort of made that one clear already, though Harry didn't really get why that of all things was a priority. Maybe Dumbledore took that sort of thing very seriously.

"Okay," Harry said, trying not to sound skeptical. "So what are you gonna do? If I break the rules."

"Are you intending to?"

"Sure," Harry deadpanned. "Because the summer hasn't been stressful enough already."

Snape threw him an irritated look. "You won't be expected to do anything here you wouldn't do during a detention at school."

Harry grimaced. "So like, cutting up Potions stuff?"

"Among other things." Snape's lips curled.

Harry had no doubt that given a reason, Snape would dedicate all his effort finding the nastiest, most revolting work possible. That would be okay though. Harry could live with that. "Okay," he said. "Fine. What else?"

Snape looked at him like he was being more dense than usual. "That is all," he said slowly. "There will be no punishment other than what any teacher at Hogwarts would find suitable to give in the form of a detention."

"That's it?" Harry burst out. "But–" Before he could help it, his eyes flickered towards the stairs that led to the hallway on the first floor.

Snape's eyes darkened dangerously. "Nor will I follow that particular example of your relatives'."

Harry flushed and pressed his lips together. Not for the first time, he wondered whether Snape could actually read minds.

Snape raised his eyes to the ceiling and took a deep breath. "Seeing as you clearly do not believe me–"

"I wasn't trying to–"

"–I believe it is time to let actions speak."

The next half hour went by in a blur. Harry trotted behind Snape, observing the changes he made with both bemusement and apprehension. Soon Harry was the confused owner of a travel-sized fridge Snape had dug out from some storage space and now resided next to Harry's bed, a key to the guest room and a much larger, shabby key that fit into the wardrobe on the first floor hallway.

Harry took a look inside, now that he could. It was piled full with boxes and old clothes, and he wouldn't have been able to cram himself in if he'd tried.

By the time Snape asked for 'any additional requests' (somehow managing to sound both scornful and like he actually expected an answer) Harry still hadn't figured out his game.

Harry had never been the cunning type. He figured if bluntness hadn't gotten him kicked out thus far, he might as well keep up the streak. "Why are you doing this?"

"Do specify."

"Are you trying to embarrass me?"

Snape's scornful expression briefly turned into bafflement. "Explain how you've come to that conclusion."

"I dunno. You've gotta have a reason for," he made a vague but brusque hand gesture, "all this."

"For goodness sake, Potter." Snape massaged his temples as though talking to Harry was incredibly taxing. "Would it kill you to speak in complete, coherent sentences?"

Harry grit his teeth and tried not to let Snape's condescending tone get to him. Maybe the knowledge that Snape had stumbled over his mortifying homelife made him reckless, because he heard himself say, "I don't know how to deal with you when you're like this."

"'Like this'," Snape parroted, making the words sound silly and vague.

"You hate me," Harry burst out. "You always have. You'd jump at the opportunity to make a few weeks of my life absolute hell. I know how that works, I know you. I don't know what to do when you're all," he couldn't think of a fitting word, so he ended with a lame, "this."

Surprisingly, Snape seemed to actually consider his words. It was either that, or he was thinking about how much more appealing it would be to make a heel turn and take back everything he'd said and done during the past hour.

Snape sighed and dragged one hand over his face. His tone made him sound as tired of the conversation as Harry felt. Instead of addressing any of what Harry had said, he demanded, "Answer the question."

The question. As in any other changes Harry wanted to make. He racked his brain for something he wanted. Something like– "I want my wand back."

There. A proper request, just like Snape had asked him to make. Harry felt an odd mix of victory and resignation, knowing there was no way Snape would agree to it.

After a brief pause, Snape said, "Fine."

Harry's mouth went dry. He frantically tried to contain his excitement and accepted his wand with trembling, sweaty hands. Holding it felt like moving a limb that had been tied down for weeks.

"I feel the need to remind you of the underage magic ban."

Harry looked up long enough to register Snape's curled lips.

"However, you have my permission to use whatever means necessary to defend yourself, should the need arise."

Even against Snape? thought Harry. It occurred to him that if Snape was actually able to read minds, that thought would have landed him straight into more trouble.

"I've not asked for this assignment," Snape said just when Harry thought their conversation was over. "But I do not intend to inform Professor Dumbledore of my failure."

Harry reluctantly met Snape's eyes. They bored into his with an intensity that promised grand suffering, should Harry not take his next words seriously.

"Refrain from making it more difficult than it is, and we will both return to school pretending as though the last weeks have never happened."

Harry gripped his wand tightly and refused to look away. Maybe Snape actually had no other motivation than to sit out the summer and get Harry out of his house without any more incidents. Maybe for once in their lives, they actually wanted the same thing.

Harry forced himself to unclench his hand and nodded.

A/N:

Snape: I will not harm you, starve you, or do anything else that in some way endangers your health or wellbeing

Harry: sounds fake but okay

Many thanks to To Mockingbird, Igornerd, JustAnotherOutcast and flyingcat!

Let me know what you think!

~Gwen