Title: The Quandary's Hope
Author: Intrepid Aarcher
Summary: Harry's Potions skills have been well hidden until an accident occurs involving a deadly concoction. Malfoy has noticed not all seems well with his arch-nemesis, but why does he care? And where does a surly Potions master fit into the equation? HPDM
Disclaimer: I'm not making any money out of this foray into the world of fan fiction. I just like to borrow the characters.
Warnings: eventual Harry/Draco slash. So that's male/male duh. A bit of abuse here and there, and some pretty dark themes.
"Parseltongue"
"normal speech"
Thoughts
CHAPTER FIVE
Snape's Interests
"I'll kill them." was the bleak promise he made to whoever did this to the emerald eyed boy.
"Kill who, Severus?"
Snape started violently and stepped out from behind the screen to face the advancing intruder.
"Stay where you are, Draco."
"Can I be of any assistance?" he drawled, insinuating the body behind the screen.
Just what I need. The Potions Master grumbled to himself. The young Slytherin was dangerous, and for all he knew, might have played a pivotal role in Harry's present state. Although his Godson deferred to him in many aspects, the blond still believed him to be in the innermost ranks of the death eaters and hoped to one day follow in his footsteps. Snape didn't have much hope for his salvation.
"No, Draco. This matter requires a certain amount of discretion, the fewer who know about it the better." Snape intoned conspiratorially, implying he meant no offence to the Malfoy heir, that this was dirty business, too distasteful for the likes of the young aristocrat.
"Well, if you're certain." Draco said, straining to catch a glimpse around the partition. Snape took a few menacing steps towards him and he stopped in his tracks, raising a sardonic eyebrow at his Godfather.
"Was there anything in particular that you came to see me for?" The tall man snapped. Draco shook his head. "Please be aware, that while you are always welcome to seek me in my chambers, the privilege of knowing the access codes to pass my wards will be revoked if you are not more 'selective' about the moments you choose to visit." And Draco, knowing a dismissal when he saw one, beat a graceful - albeit hasty - retreat. The door was shut in his face.
Harry groaned as he awoke, not daring to open his eyes and face reality. Surprisingly, he was on a soft, warm surface, not the cold, hard floor he last remembered collapsing onto. Suddenly, his eyes flew open in shock as a firm hand cupped the back of his head and the pale face of the Head of Slytherin materialized in front of his face. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the hallucination from his vision, but to no avail. The sight of his Potions Master was confirmed when it spoke.
"Sit up slowly. I need to determine where the abrasion on your head is." He said in a quiet voice.
Harry stared. "Who are you and what have you done with Snape?" he asked.
"Professor Snape. Do you feel dizzy? How many fingers am I holding up? Does it hurt when I do this? How about this? Good."
Harry blinked again as the man formerly known as the Surly Git left the enclosure of screens for a minute. When he returned, he was juggling an assortment of bandages and ointments, the latter in recognizable Muggle packaging. He summoned a clean cloth and a bowl of steaming water, and proceeded to divest Harry of his outer robes and shirt, leaving him to feel exposed in just his trousers.
After an awkward silence that lasted some minutes while Snape continued to clean and bandage his wounds, Harry ventured forth in a timid voice: "Why are you helping me?"
Snape's face cleared itself of any emotions. "What, you would have preferred to expire in a gruesome, bloody puddle and left to be found by Filch during spring cleaning? I apologize. If ever again I find you in a similar predicament, I won't hesitate to walk away."
"Sir! Please, I-I meant…" Harry trailed off and lowered his eyes quickly to avoid letting the man see the hurt in his tearful orbs.
Snape sighed when he realized just how he was handling the situation. Rubbing his face to clear his thoughts, he once again took in the boy sitting destitute and battered before him.
"Harry…" he began. The boy's head rose tentatively upon hearing his name spoken by Snape. "Harry, you have known for some time now of the role I play in this war. While I might once have answered to Voldemort, I have never actually been completely loyal to Dumbledore. My decisions have been made with my sole interests at heart. Voldemort is a sick misguided monster who once offered me a place in his twisted vision of the world, and Dumbledore is a manipulating old fool who offered me even greater protection in return for a ready made double agent. Needless to say I took the Headmaster's offer.
"I have been there every step of the way, watched as he whispered 'guidance' to you in one ear and encouraged your insecurities in the other. I saw him turn your friends away, or stretch the distance growing between you." Snape tore his eyes from Harry's penetrating gaze and buried his face in his hands. "I witnessed him coordinate your meetings with Voldemort, waiting for the inevitable to happen; when you would defeat the most powerful dark wizard of our age against all odds, or die, leaving Dumbledore to step up and take the mantle of 'Saviour.'
"And I, to my everlasting shame, thought you deserved it. Knowing now as I do, the pain you have suffered due to his negligence, I am prepared to cast aside my interests, and concentrate on yours." At this he forced his eyes upwards again, to meet with compassionate green ones and added: "That is, if you will forgive me."
"Does this mean you don't hate me?" Harry asked.
Snape started and did a double-take to ascertain if the boy was being serious. After seeing Harry's lips fighting to retain a smile, he did something he hadn't done in years and let out a sudden bark of laughter.
"That may be going too far. I should take points for your cheek, you insolent brat!" he said with good humour. Harry's face split into a massive grin which shone through the pain.
Sobering after such an intense period of displaying emotions, his demeanor took on a serious air. Once again he began to clean Harry's wounds. This time however, his touch was altogether gentler, his brow furrowing in concern whenever he caused the boy to wince.
"You know they're Muggle ointments don't you?" asked Harry, referring to the salves Snape was applying.
"Yes. What of it?" Snape replied tersely.
"Oh, nothing. I just didn't want my nurse to have a heart attack and drop dead when he realized, leaving me sitting here receiving no medical attention. But if you're OK with it…" he trailed off when he noticed the withering glare he was receiving.
"For your information," he huffed "these are the only treatments with healing properties I can give you that won't interfere with the Potions." He suddenly became more alert as he remembered the reason he was in such a state that morning and jumped out of his seat.
"YOU! It was you who broke into my stores last night! How did you do it? Who are you working with? Who made the potions? And what in the world possessed you to take a swig of Yerasimos' Quandary in the first place?" he ranted. Only when he caught a glimpse of Harry staring determinedly at his hands did he relent.
Deciding to take a softer approach, he sat down beside Harry once more and beseeched him to confess. "Well?"
Harry, seeing no way out of it without harming this new understanding between them, took a deep breath and decided to tell him the truth. "You see, well, Imadethepotioninmycupboardandtherewasanaccidentandidranksome…"
He looked imploringly at Snape, who blinked.
"Would you mind, awfully, repeating that?" he asked, not unkindly.
"Sir, I made the potion over the holidays… and there was an accident… and I drank some of it…"
"Sorry, I think I misheard. I thought you said that you made the potion."
"Sir, I did!" Snape still looked skeptical and sneered, an expression that faltered as Harry continued.
"It took me a while. All I found at first were obscure references - but then I began to speculate – and once I had a pretty good foundation of knowledge as to what went in it – I started to experiment – was stuck a while there – trial and error you know – but then I hit on the right combo – monkshood before the essence of murtlap – dragon's blood after the ground pixie fingers – everything sorta clicked – you know - " he paused when he felt a hand on his forearm.
Harry looked up from his ramblings to find Snape staring at him with and open mouth.
"Catching flies Professor?"
Snape's mouth shut with an audible snap, although he continued to stare at his pupil for several more minutes.
"Do you mean to tell me that you, Harry Potter, Potions Debacle, Bane of all Potions Masters, managed to brew Yerasimos' Quandary, an elixir so foul all traces of it have been scoured from the face of the earth?" he asked in a slightly breathy voice.
"Yes, Sir."
"H-h-" swallow, "h-how?"
"Well…you see," Harry began nervously, shifting on the cot slightly only to wince in pain. "I reached Newt Level Potions by my second year, and developed a handy Solution –pardon the pun- to the scarce amount of time I had at Hogwarts, called Sleepless Nights. So in effect, I was able to study while my peers slept. You see, I really am quiet fond of potions, I just couldn't let you - or anyone else for that matter - find out." He finished haltingly.
"Well that clears that up." Snape stated sarcastically.
Harry looked down at his hands again, the left now set with a hard cast around it, itching slightly where it was sure to annoy him for weeks. His professor had done an excellent job at patching him up. Clearly he had extensive knowledge of Muggle first aid and medical applications.
Snape was still trying to comprehend all that Harry had told him. This wasn't the full story, that much was obvious, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.
"And your injuries? Ingesting the poison – mistakenly or otherwise – does not explain how they occurred."
"I fell -"
"I don't believe you." The dark man peered into Harry's face, urging his gaze upwards, although he would not betray the boy's trust by reading his thoughts.
"How are you relatives?" He attempted, and his suspicions were confirmed as Harry blanched. The Gryffindor mouthed soundlessly, attempting to answer his rescuer. He failed and resigned himself to further silence, hoping his professor would drop the subject.
Snape sighed and let his hand fall on the boy's good shoulder, going so far as to give it a comforting squeeze. He resolved to address the matter when he was in a more stable condition.
"I'll help you. Merlin knows why…"
Harry smiled weakly at the muttering Potions Master. They spent another good half-hour tending to his wounds, trying to cover the silence with stilted conversation both were regretting they hadn't had earlier, including entertaining accounts as to how his Potions prowess remained undetected. Snape was internally overjoyed that he had found someone else as besotted by Potions as he was. And Harry, well, Harry was just glad he had found someone who wouldn't leave him, someone who saw past his name and wouldn't hesitate to tell him when he was being a prat.
Snape reminded him of the detention he was to serve that night, which would now double as a weekly medical examination and a chance to discuss the art of Potions - although he wouldn't get away without scrubbing at least a cauldron or six (without magic). When it was time to leave for his next class, Snape himself cast indestructible Concealment Charms on his multiple bruises and bandages before watching him limp away, urging the boy to eat as much as he could at lunch to help with the healing process. Not that he cared of course.
End Chapter 5
A/N: What did you think? Hope Snape isn't too out of character. His interaction with Harry shouldn't change at all from the snarky git we all know and love, just his intentions. Tell me if it needs fixing or anything. Please review!