Trigger warning, pedophilia. This fic is dark, and parts of it are based on events that happened to a close friend. Read with self-care, skip the marked section as needed. The rewrite will be much cleaner.

Chapter 4: For Yule: a Bat and a Truth

Potter was a quick study, and it was obvious Severus had nothing to teach him at OWL level. Severus had assigned him likely exam brews to refresh his knowledge, though he did not need the practice.

The grading Potter did was not as aggressive as his own, and had suggested reading and improvement tips in the margins. Even Granger's and Draco's essays had these suggestions, 'for further knowledge.' But as long as he did it in a timely fashion and was reasonable in assigning grades, Severus did not mind how helpful the boy wanted to be.

Potter could be a good teacher, he supposed, until he realised that almost all students were gormless and daft. Severus had been enthusiastic at first too, excited to impart the beauty and wonder of potions on what he had soon realised was a bunch of dunderheads.

Though he randomly re-checked three papers a week just in case, Severus was very happy with Potter's grading and happy his workload had shrunk. Perhaps he could continue his experiments with prolonging the shelf life of polyjuice; he would have to ask Albus for funds.

Their Tuesday and Thursday evenings had even turned out to be enjoyable. Potter was capable of talking while brewing, so Severus listened to him babble about reactions and recipe changes, books he had read, frustrations at some author for allowing a sub-par translation from Swahili.

The dunderheads whose essays he was marking liberally in red didn't deserve Severus' full attention anyway.

"Mokeme did not choose his translator."

Potter looked up, shock clear in his eyes. Had the boy thought he hadn't been listening to him? Severus could have told him to shut up four sessions ago. "He died before his works achieved enough acclaim to be translated. I believe some family member arranged for the translations into other languages," he elaborated.

"Oh," Potter visibly returned to himself, "it's just, my Swahili is rubbish, and the trance-inducing potions he published might have good ideas for how to change my dreamless, if only I could read them."

Severus hummed non-committedly and returned to his grading. Potter seemed to understand, as he continued his surprisingly intriguing Potions monologue.

xoxox

On the first of December, Severus handed a stack of mock OWL exams to Potter. "Complete these now using this ink," he passed over an uncommon bottle-green blend, and a standard quill. Potter took it, regretfully sheathing his hair-quill, and began to read the first exam.

Three hours later the boy groaned and stretched. "Gods, but exams are the worst." Severus stood and collected the package curiously. "I'd take a Crucio over that any day." Severus looked up sharply; Potter's eyes were closed as he yawned.

"Experienced many Unforgivables, Mister Potter?" Because this was not something about which anyone should jest.

Eyes still closed, he was now stretching in a way reminiscent of a kitten. "I'm immune to the other two of the three, aren't I?" He looked up, eyes wide as he realised what he had said. Apparently Potter also forgot about his brain-mouth filter in Severus' company. It made Severus feel better, that he wasn't the only one.

Potter cleared his throat awkwardly. "So, I finished your mock OWLs." There had been five exams, which meant he had needed half an hour for each. Incredible.

Severus handed them back over. "Mark them yourself in another colour, and show me next week." Potter sighed his relief, thinking himself off the hook. "Also, you will write me a foot on each unforgivable curse. Make it interesting."

He suppressed a grin as he watched the boy swallow. That should teach him not to joke about such awfulness. Severus refused to believe there was truth in those words, because who cast unforgivable curses on a magical child? It was not possible, the boy was healthy and either emotionally balanced or a superior manipulator.

He did have trouble relating to his fellow first years, but that was because he was a genius, while eleven- and twelve-year-olds were idiots.

Everything, he insisted firmly to himself, was fine.

xoxox

It had been a poorly made deal on Potter's behalf. He was good company, did a thorough job at grading, and had not actually needed help preparing for the OWL examination.

His mock exams had been almost perfect, and his brews had all been spontaneously improved to be better than a potion brewed perfectly according to the instructions.

Potter had gained Severus' alliance, his approval, and hours of his company. Perhaps that had been the point, to ensure Severus did not regret the offered apprenticeship?

The boy left with the other children for Yule, and Severus realised that Thursday that he had grown fond of the boy and was begrudgingly missing him now that he was gone.

As a Yule gift, he had cast a geminus charm on his painstakingly hand-translated copy of Mokeme's 'Transcendental Soups.' In Swahili it alliterated, but Severus was a stickler for accuracy over style.

Potter had come to his rooms the night before and handed over a package and a single snowdrop flower of hope, explaining that he would be moving a lot and that an owl would not be able to find him. Severus had been glad he had been prepared with all Yule gifts in advance, so that he did not have to embarrass himself scrambling for a return gift.

Of course Albus had tried to have the boy followed, still desperate to know where he lived and who was influencing him. Personally Severus had his doubts anybody was influencing the boy at all. The Potter he'd come to know was more likely to be manipulating his guardian instead of the opposite.

Severus was glad when he learnt Potter had portkeyed from his Thestral-drawn carriage the second it had left Hogwarts' wards. Nobody else deserved to be caught in Albus' web of half-truths and manoeuvred chess pieces. Severus suspected Albus saw him and Potter as nothing more than pawns to be sacrificed, either at the right moment or when they were no longer useful.

Severus had gifted Albus a month's supply of blood sugar stabiliser, because if anybody knew of the man's pending diabetes the Wizarding World would likely implode onto itself, with metaphorical explosions and puffs of dirt, dust clouds and raining debris to the sound of the melancholy chamber music Albus enjoyed so much. A fitting end to the century's greatest wizard. Death by Sherbet Lemon. After all, it was a common expression among his Slytherins, the wish for Albus to choke on one of his candies.

In return, he received a grant for 100 Galleons worth of potions ingredients. A practical man, Severus could appreciate a practical gift, though it stung that Albus had taked it from the school budget.

Minerva had received a horrible transfigured candelabra that was actually a bag of catnip.

Her return gift had arrived in his rooms just this morning, a cardboard box containing a live bat which was now hanging in the corner by his windows to the great lake. What the fuck was he supposed to do with a bat? Were they not flock animals? Were there magical bats? What did bats eat? How was it a good idea to give somebody living beings for Yule? Severus sent some tentative legilimency at the thing, hoping for some kind of impression of hunger or discomfort or hopefully, the desire to leave.

There were magical bats, Severus now realised, because it had just latched tentative familiar bond onto his legilimency probe.

She. In the library, he identified her as a New Zealand native fruit bat that was used by Maori magicals as messengers and spies. With practice, it was possible for the magical to slip into the animal's mind and gather information. They were diurnal and could see quite well, though of course they also had exceptionally good hearing.

Severus read up on spells for protecting their sensitive ears, and wards for immediate dropping vanishment. In the end, he checked out the book and returned to his bat. He named her 'She-Bat' and decided to approach Minerva about a truce in their prank-gift war, because while this was an exceptional bat–and as it ate a plum from his hand while the familiar bond strengthened he realised She-Bat was also quite adorable–it was not acceptable to gift live animals.

There had been a note, "because you need a woman in your life, despite your proclivity for men." Severus had watched it burn and felt better afterwards.

Shebat was brown-black, the size of his hand from fingertip to wrist. She had very large eyes and sharp teeth. The fur was shaggy, but soft to the touch. He thought she did suit him quite well, which brought a corresponding rush of satisfaction from his new familiar.

Nevertheless, he was going to murder Minerva. Shebat flapped to hang from a different part of the ceiling to better watch him unwrap his next gift.

He chose Potter's, knowing it would make up for the frustration at Minerva's poor choices.

"This is from Potter," he found himself explaining to the bat, upon receiving a flash of curiosity. Did it even understand English? He would need to research familiars later. "He also gave me a snowdrop flower, which is simultaneously sweet and makes me uncomfortable. According to Victorian Era Floriography it is a gift of consolation and hope. He seems to be making flower gifts somewhat of a tradition."

Shebat blinked dumbly at him. He decided to stop talking and unwrap the present.

It contained basilisk scales from what was obviously a monstrous snake. Any scales on the black market were tiny, because of the risks involved in hatching them. It made some recipes which required a certain number of scale difficult, because numbers affected magical properties, but the small scales available did not have enough basilisk magic to affect the brew. Most potions research with Basilisk as an ingredient had been done in ancient China, before they had embraced communism and murdered their entire magical population.

There were a hundred scales, each perfectly prepared as potions ingredients. Together they must have a market value of ten thousand Galleons. Severus put the box down numbly, what did one say when receiving such a gift from their student? Was this appropriate? He wouldn't return it, even if this broke some taboo. He had wanted to try some of the millennium-old recipes in the Restricted Section since he had first seen them in his fourth year.

The note said exactly what he had needed to hear. This was a gift from a grateful future apprentice to his Master. Potter was trying to gain his favour and reassure him the offer was not a mistake, and that he would take his role as apprentice seriously. Severus could brew with or sell the scales, Potter had access to more but did not want to flood the black market, therefore they would be the only people benefiting for now. He shelved the case reverently.

Lucius had sent expensive potions supplies as usual, in return for Severus' also usual gift of the magical version of Viagra, mixed with a mild hallucinogen to allow the entirely homosexual man to engage in marital relations with his very female wife. Narcissa still wanted another child, and Lucius understood the logic on an heir and a spare.

Harold had gifted him an patterned blue scarf. Gramps' present was a stack of books about kink and sex, with a note saying he doubted he would buy them himself, but should understand what he was doing. They were factual, interesting, and had some very nice drawings, Severus realised as he flicked through. It was long past the time where he should be knowledgeable about how to play safely, but the magical world had no equivalent resources. He would spell jackets from muggle fiction onto the books later so they could sit innocently on his shelf.

Mark had gotten him a pair of fine gloves. They could not be cut, and would protect his fingers from stains, smells and dangerous ingredients alike. Meanwhile they were no thicker than muggle latex, while feeling much smoother and more comfortable. Most importantly, they did not exude the rubbery smell that condoms and latex gloves shared.

He had gifted Mark a NEWT equivalent revision guide from Ilvermory Academy, adding in a note that the book explained some things differently from how Hogwarts' Professors and alumni did, and that he was looking forward to when Mark was no longer his student.

All other gifts exchanged were trinkets, vouchers and polite niceties that did not mean anything to the giving nor the receiving parties, but would have meant a great deal of offence had there been no gift at all.

Dressed in semi-formal robes for the occasion and taking quiet pleasure in the way they billowed, Severus collected Shebat and went to attend the Yule feast. Afterwards, he would join the other remaining professors in a jovial communal Yule log burning in the staff room, with copious alcohol and the soft haze of magic.

"Do you like her?" Minerva questioned as Severus passed a grape to his familiar and helped himself to a piece of the roasted boar.

"Do you think before gifting live beings to other people?" Severus replied snidely, "it is irresponsible and reprehensible, and you should be ashamed by your sheer stupidity."

Minerva blanched, "I didn't think–"

"Indeed," he interrupted with great satisfaction, "you did not think. There will be no more prank gifts between us."

She took a generous sip of wine. "I agree. That candelabra is hideous, as was surely intended. I placed it on my mantle." She must have been very distracted to not notice it was transfigured. The spell would wear off within two days, and she would be in for a lovely surprise. "Do you not like her? I wanted a swarm of transfigured bats, but as I was researching which species to choose I read about this beautiful magical kind. I recalled you did not even have an owl, and the species suits you so well."

"I accidentally initiated a familiar bond. Whether I like Shebat or not is inconsequential." He smirked as Minerva winced and decided she was sufficiently chastised. "She is beautiful," he rubbed Shebat's head, and smiled fondly at her chuckling noises. Absently he noticed a Hufflepuff spitting up his pumpkin juice, likely appalled that the Slytherin dungeon bat was capable of a fond smile. "I will come to love her yet. You are right, the species is appropriate."

Minerva beamed and poured them both more wine, even though Severus had barely touched his cup. "To the women in your life. I am glad to count myself one of them."

Severus acknowledged the toast and passed the bat another grape.

Everyone was at least tipsy by the time they reached the staff room, so as the most sober among them Severus took it upon himself to light the Yule log. They toasted thrice before he settled in a corner and let the sleepy magic wash over him, Shebat cupped to his chest with tiny digits gripping his buttons. He might even have drifted off to sleep once or twice.

xoxox

He met Potter on the day he was supposed to take his OWL, wearing casual robes and pretending the bat crawling over him was a fashion statement.

Potter was dressed in expensive modern robes, proving he did indeed know how to shop at Twilfitt and Tattings, accessorised by an entirely bored look as he waited for his group's turn. Augmented, naturally, by the quill. Then, Potter saw him, saw his bat, and cooed.

"Is that a Tepukawa Bat?" Potter was in his face. Potter was reaching for his bat. The eight others in the room were staring, and Severus was too perplexed to do anything. "Oh my Gods. It is a Tepukawa. They're really rare, endangered even. Wow, she's gorgeous."

Potter was staring at the bat on his chest, tickling its chin gently, and Shebat was making happy chittering noises, the traitor.

"Her name is Shebat." Just when Severus thought he had reached the crowning moment of his embarrassment, he had opened his mouth and made it worse.

"From Bathsheba? Like a double pun?" He continued to coo at the traitorous bat, and Severus pretended he wasn't extremely uncomfortable. "That's very clever."

Potter had said he was very clever, and Severus was receiving joy and pleasure down the familiar bond. Severus clicked his teeth shut before he did something he would never live down, like chittering. According to his research he should maintain close contact to Shebat—Bathsheba now, he supposed–for at least a month until the familiar bond settled. It would then become easier to identify who was feeling what. Minerva had probably done this to embarrass him.

He clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times experimentally. Bathsheba had latched on to Potter and was now being cuddled. They sat on the hard wooden bench. "Are you nervous, Mister Potter?"

He looked up, and Bathsheba complained until his fingers continued their stroking. A foreign shiver ran up Severus' spine. "About the OWL? Of course not. You know I'm ready."

Some scowling youth in the corner huffed and turned away. This from the boy who had taught Draco diplomacy. Severus finally gathered the wits to cast a privacy bubble. "Thank you for your gift. It was...more than I had expected."

Potter shook his head, attention back on his bat. "Nonsense. The book you got me is both thoughtful and valuable. When I opened your gift I was so glad I had gone for preparing the scales instead of just some shed skin. Was Bathsheba a gift, too?"

Severus appreciated the boy's knack for sandwiching uncomfortable statements in a way that meant he did not have to acknowledge or respond to them. "Professor McGonagal thought I needed a familiar."

"Maybe you did. She suits you. Very dignified and mysterious." Bathsheba was currently trying to eat Potter's very expensive sleeve, while being tickled and chittering. It was neither mysterious nor dignified, nor did it remind Severus of himself. "Did she mean it nicely, or was Professor McGonagal hoping to embarrass you by making you walk around for a month carrying this bundle of joy?" the last part had been in baby-voice, at his bat.

"Bathsheba does not requite the use of a high-pitched crooning voice. Your normal voice will suffice."

Potter nodded without having the decency to blush. "I suppose puberty will come at some point or another. But you are very right, a bat as dignified and mysterious–" why would it not stop making ridiculous happy noises "–as Bathsheba should be spoken to as an equal. Please accept my sincerest apologies, and understand that I was not acting out of malice." Severus could not tell if he was being mocked; the boy appeared to be perfectly serious.

As Madam Marchbanks entered the room, he dropped the silencing bubble. Her bewildered stare on himself and Potter was tangible, neither of them were in the usual age group of OWL exam takers. She called several names including Potter's. His bat was handed to him. "Will you wait for me, Professor?" he sounded so hopeful, and Bathsheba was sending happy waves at him, he was hard pressed to say no.

Madam Marchbanks poked her head back through the door. "If you do not assist anybody, you may observe the examinations, Master Snape. Come now, Mister Potter."

The decision had been made for him by a beamish boy and a burbling bat. Oh frabjous day, his mind recited uselessly.

Once the examination had begun, the Madame Marchbanks set up a silencing bubble around them both. They had a surprisingly lovely conversation over tea; apparently the Madam had been following his career.

Potter raised his hand politely after forty minutes. "Is it too hard, dear? There's nothing to be ashamed of, just hand in what you have so far and you can try again next year." Madam Marchbanks had utterly misunderstood the situation. Potter followed her to the front, looking dejected until under the privacy spell.

"Was it too hard, dear?" Severus asked mockingly, causing Potter to burst into giggles and promptly slap a hand over his mouth to hide them. Madam Marchbanks was thankfully engrossed in leafing through his exam.

He caught himself quickly. "I would never do you the dishonour of embarrassing you," replied the boy who had cooed at his bat in public.

Madam Marchbanks placed the finished exam in a file on her desk and conjured another chair for herself. "I apologise for underestimating you, Mister Potter. I should have known, considering who your escort is."

Potter giggled again. "Sorry. Maybe I was a little nervous. The adrenaline will be gone soon. Did you know the word escort is used by muggles to describe prostitutes?"

Severus had known, but had had the sense to suppress this. The Madam was not amused.

When had Potter acquired his bat? She was being cradled in his arms, ruining the sleeve beyond repair. "Do you think she's hungry? I don't think my robes have much nutritional value, though." Suddenly Potter had a knapsack, and then he was offering the bat a banana.

Severus resigned himself to being situationally out of control. "When will the practical part begin?"

Madam Marchbanks still looked like she had swallowed a lemon, "after everyone has completed the theoretical part, which will be in thirty minutes."

Potter nodded absently, still fascinated by Bathsheba. Severus struck up conversation with Madam Marchbanks anew as Potter observed his familiar grooming herself.

Nobody else finished early.

The brewing part involved a bubblehead charm on the now sleeping bat, and a sense of satisfaction that Potter knew how to halve the brewing time of the Swelling Solution by grinding the rat's tail with the cattail, instead of dicing it.

This time when Potter finished early they could leave, and he invited Severus out to eat in muggle London.

Well, he was hungry and did not have anywhere better to be. Some part of him, he realised, had missed the boy's company. So Severus transfigured a knapsack for his bat and agreed.

This scene contains a discussion of underage sex (rape), plot and character relevant. End also marked in bold.

"Indian, Thai or something else? I fancy a curry."

Severus did not mind, and said so. He transfigured his clothes, and saw Potter had done the same. He raised his eyebrow at the underage magic, receiving a shrug in return.

"Cast Legilimency on me." What a wonderful show of trust, though Potter was grimacing now. "Sorry, I meant, would you please cast Legilimency on me, Professor Snape?" And why did he always have to be so insufferably charming?

He cast the spell and dove through Potter's Occlumency. There were a few stray flashes of smoky bars and soft music, dark corners and a bright restaurant, but it was very ordered for such a young mind. Then he got very strong images and impressions of a very particular alley. This was where Potter wanted to apparate, so he grabbed his arm, touched his fingertip to Bathsheba's spindly fingers, and apparated without breaking the connection. He caught a strong feeling of appreciation, anticipation combined with the smell of green curry, then an intense need to throw up.

No, it was Bathsheba's stomach that was unsettled, not his own. He took a few deep breaths and sent soothing waves at her until her minuscule phalanges stopped squeezing his fingertip so tightly.

Potter was bemused and concerned. Apparently he had inadvertently sent soothing waves at him as well.

Severus broke the Legilimency and straightened, shouldering his transfigured bag. "You have a well-organised mind."

Potter grinned, "you are an excellent Legilimens, Professor. Very smooth probe, like a warm slicked–" he broke off, blushing, and began to lead the way out onto the main street.

His Legilimency had just been compared to something sexual, he was reasonably sure. Potter must be an early bloomer, to understand sexual innuendo at eleven. Actually, that was suspicious at his age, regardless of maturity. A warning sign if ever there was one.

They entered a restaurant with poor decoration choices that included yellow tablecloths and green place settings. Potter slid into a seat by the window with a pretty good view of West London.

"Would you mind if I cast a diagnostic spell on you?" he asked once they had ordered. Because now that the suspicion was there it was itching at him. Even if he scratched it open until it bled, at least the itch would stop. That was what he was telling himself, anyway.

Potter looked alarmed, "Professor?"

"There's something I'm curious about. If you like, I could insist upon it as your Head of House and have Madam Pomfrey do the honours."

"I really don't like where this is going," he was wary, "do the wand motion with a chopstick first, please."

Severus did. It was a general health, followed by the flick which was used to determine if someone was still a virgin.

Apparently Potter recognised it, because his eyes had widened farther. "I walked straight into that one, didn't I," he groaned, scrubbing at his face. "Is there anything I can say to make you give up on this line of inquiry?"

Severus shook his head no, watching Potter polish his glasses on his transfigured shirt. And wow, the boy knew his medical spells. When would he have learnt those? Had they been cast on him before?

"Some story about being a horny child experimenting with something stupid?"

If it had been presented differently, then it might have worked, but Potter had given himself away before making his move.

"And you will not believe me if I say it was consensual?"

The food arrived, so they ate. Severus had copied Potter's order of green curry, and it was indeed excellent, despite the bitter taste in Severus' mouth at the tale he knew he was about to hear.

"There is a reason why minors are considered unable to consent, Mister Potter," he went for 'you-idiot' rather than a gentle tone, because Potter seemed to want to treat this as casually as possible.

"So what you want me to say," Potter said slowly, "is some horror story of being violated against my will by someone twice my size? Professor?"

Severus had lost control of this conversation, because that was the effect Potter had. "I would actually cast the spell first, and hope you tell me the truth."

"This stays between us, Professor. You will not involve other Professors, healers, the Headmaster, any muggles, or in any way break my trust by divulging this information to a third party."

It was fair, and although Potter had little to barter with it would perhaps give him the trust he needed to open up. "I swear on my role as your Head of House not to divulge information about your past, present and future sexual habits to third parties, given that you would disapprove of said third parties' knowledge thereof." It gave him the freedom to talk to someone completely separate and neutral, if he needed to. Potter nodded, so with a surreptitious look around Severus discretely cast.

The spell showed Potter to be in excellent health barring a few surface wounds, and his status as a virgin. Magic's ability to distinguish that had always confused him, until he had finally asked Poppy and received a matter-of-fact but uncomfortably drawn-out explanation that included past penetration combined with the person's beliefs on their own virginity. Hence there being nine variations for a cis-male's result.

Potter knew he had been having sex, that much was obvious even before the spell. He quickly followed up with a more detailed spell which determined the child had been penetrated within the past week, and that there were surface wounds on his torso, wrists and ankles.

"That was not part of the deal," Potter hissed icily, pushing his plate away and leaning in angrily. It didn't look very imposing. The boy was eleven, and adorable even when aggravated.

Also, he was sexually active.

Severus wished he hadn't known, either. This was Lily's son, whom he had sworn to protect, having sex while helplessly bound aged eleven. The very thought of it broke what had been left of his stony heart. He tore a hand through his hair, "I am so sorry."

His voice had come out rather choked. He should have insisted the boy stay at Hogwarts over Yule break. Away from his guardian, away from the world that was so full of ugly people who did ugly things to children, by the Gods'. This wasn't the first case he'd had in his house. It was the youngest, and it felt like there was a noose around his neck and a crushing weight on his chest preventing his rather rattling breaths from coming anywhere near fast enough.

He was distantly aware of Potter paying and leading him from the restaurant. They were sitting on a bench under a tree and watching the drizzling rain. Severus' breathing finally calmed.

They both pretended he hadn't just had a panic attack. "Have a fortune cookie, Professor."

Severus laughed weakly and took one. Bathsheba had sensed his distress and climbed onto him again, was now clawing at his buttons. He crumpled the fortune before he could read it and swallowed the cookie, barely chewing.

"We require some kind of privacy spell, Professor."

Start of discussion of underage sex (rape)

Severus cast a word scrambler; anyone listening would think them to be speaking a foreign language.

Potter passed him another cookie, apparently having left the restaurant with a box of them. "You know there are some people who fancy boys," Potter began. "It's not really fair for them, but that doesn't excuse it."

How did he know this? Why did he know this? And where was it coming from? Albus had failed to place the boy with his maternal aunt, which would have been an awful childhood for the boy. Instead he had evidently been somewhere far worse.

"I was eight the first time. My guardian is great, of course, but they trusted the wrong person to mind me on occasion. Simon was young, and handsome. He said nice things to me, let me eat my favourites and made me feel special and valuable.

"It started small. Touches that lingered and weren't innocent, and then eventually he began touching me sexually. It even felt good sometimes. I didn't know what was going on, or that it was wrong, just that if I wanted him to keep being nice to me I needed to keep it a secret.

He escalated from touching me to asking me to touch him, and then my guardian figured out what was happening. I have never seen them so furious. I understood quite a bit more by then, and it was nice to have someone be mad on my behalf."

The entire horror had been delivered conversationally, as if these facts weren't tearing Severus apart. "Tell me what happened with the man."

Potter shuddered and ate his own cookie, pausing to read the snippet inside. Severus was nonetheless grateful for the even tone and lack of eye contact. "I don't know for sure, but I have strong reason to believe my guardian killed him." Good. Severus would have killed him otherwise. "I would really rather not talk about that." So, rape was alright, but murder was not. Severus lit a cigarette and pretended he did not see Potter's eyes looking at the fag hungrily.

"That does not explain your injuries as of the past week." Or how he was determined not-a-virgin by the spell. Potter was obviously leaving something out.

"My guardian sent me to group therapy, and I made some friends." Severus could see where this was going, though he didn't want to. "A few other children who have had similar experiences. It's a comfort."

Severus failed to suppress his groan.

"Are you going to make me say it, Professor Snape?"

"You may limit yourself to unembellished facts." Severus did not want to know, but he had to reassure himself.

"He's a bit older, and experimenting, trying to figure out what he likes and what will trigger him. In the beginning, it was mostly us triggering each other. It's nice, learning what feels good and what doesn't. Rediscovering certain sensations. Sex is supposed to feel good, you know?" Potter coughed, "that was rhetorical, of course, Professor." He sighed, "you make me forget who I am talking to sometimes. You've been cutting me a lot of slack with my cheek, and I'm grateful. It's just–" he cut off, closed his eyes as he exhaled, "you remind me of a good friend, Professor.

End of discussion of underage sex (rape)

"I think of you as a friend, actually," Potter continued, "there's sadly not much mature company to be found in a school."

Severus agreed whole-heartedly, from the safety of his own thoughts. Some of Potter' oddities resurfaced in his mind, "when you said your idea of fun involved breaking school rules..."

"I meant leaving school grounds. I have no other friends at Hogwarts, and I definitely have not been intimate with another student," he was vehement and upset, so Severus did not insist on clarifying the loopholes in the statement.

It was astonishing that Potter was so well balanced, considering all the trauma in his life. That guardian had most likely arranged for a lot of therapy. Except, there had been that flinch, at–

"Boy."

Potter almost fell off the park bench, then accepting Severus' steadying hand without issue. He laughed humourlessly. "I never could get rid of that. Bit of a tell, isn't it?"

'Never' was perhaps the wrong word choice for an eleven-year-old. "You don't mind touch, or shy away from it. You just prefer to keep your distance."

Because that would comfort the boy, no, the child, Severus chastised himself. What was he thinking, analysing him aloud? He should have kept his mouth shut. Bathsheba flailed against him in distress, and Potter's laughter was genuine this time.

"She's a real beauty." He stroked her gently.

Severus suspected this was the end of the conversation.

Potter confirmed it by standing up. A muggle in a business suit was approaching them, and by standing Potter had disrupted the privacy spell. There was a taint of magic around the muggle, some kind of mind control? Severus placed himself protectively before the child.

"It's alright, Severus. My guardian sent her to pick me up. Didn't you see? She followed us here from the restaurant. It's lovely weather we're having, isn't it Missus?"

She bobbed her head, "I hope that the weather continues to stay so mild." It was now raining heavily, and none of the three had any kind of waterproof coat.

Potter nodded seriously, Severus found himself suspecting this was a pass phrase of sorts. Potter's guardian was paranoid, as they should be raising the Boy-Who-Lived. And by magic, Potter must hate that moniker.

"Will you be alright?" Severus sank to one knee so the boy could look down to him, "keep yourself safe until you're back at Hogwarts?"

Potter nodded, appearing confused at the height difference. "I'll be fine, Professor. A warding master set the wards personally." He chewed on his lip, a nervous gesture Severus hadn't seen from him before. "Thank you for coming to my OWL exams, Professor Snape. It meant a lot to me." Severus reached out and cupped his face, causing Potter to look entirely lost. Severus touched the chewed lip with his thumb.

"You should try not to eat yourself. I am certain some mental health professional has told you the same." Potter nodded, and Severus released his face again, cradling Bathsheba instead. "I am glad I came to see you sit your OWL, and equally glad to lunch with you. Thank you for sharing something so personal with me. If you need more support, I will not judge, and will try to help you."

It would have to suffice.

"Will we still be meeting Tuesdays and Thursdays after supper?" This was one of the few moments where Potter truly sounded eleven, while he spent the rest of his life walking around as a miniature adult. He had experienced enough for an adult lifetime, Severus supposed.

"Of course. You will begin grading up to third year for me."

Potter beamed at him, then ran to the magically compelled muggle woman who was standing a short distance away, ignoring the rain drenching her. He trotted next to her, babbling about something-or-rather. The path bent around a copse of trees, and they were gone.

Severus' tracking charm was disabled a few seconds later. Over the sound of rain falling through leaves, he heard the muted crack of magical travel. She had been a muggle, so probably a portkey.

Potter was happy to be wherever he was, with whomever he was with, that much was obvious. There were wards, there was therapy, there were security phrases when he was picked up. His guardian knew what they were doing, and until Potter was back at Hogwarts in a week, it was out of Severus' hands.

Nevertheless, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Potter take his seat at the Slytherin table again at the welcoming feast. The bat hanging off the back of Severus' hair was a source of gossip, especially when she decided to make a mess of it. When he deposited Bathsheba on his robes to fiddle with his buttons, and had fixed his hair again the first thing he saw was Potter smiling at him. It had all the potential to be a good school term.

xoxox

Potter's OWL result was mailed to him in mid January. They celebrated his O with a three hour session brainstorming original potion ideas over hot chocolates in Severus' study and afterwards, Severus privately celebrated his excellent choice of apprentice by going the Admiral Duncan and buying his friends a round.

"So what's put you in such a good mood?" Harold asked, sipping his lager.

"I have an exceptional student who has made me quite happy."

"Hang on," Nellie interrupted, "you're a chemistry teacher, and Mark's a politician-slash-inventor, and you both work in the same place? And how is Mark your subordinate? None of this makes sense."

Gramps smacked his arm. "It's called an alias, you dimwit. Prince wasn't given that name by his mother." From the corner of his eye, he saw Mark's sympathetic wince. The Prince name would have opened a lot of doors for Severus at the start of his career. Creepily, Mark knew this, he knew far too much about Severus. "And Mark doesn't even know his own name any more. Considering what we know, it's obvious Mark is in some way a student, and Prince his teacher. It must be quite a large university or other educational institution for Prince not to recognise him." This time, he and Mark had both grimaced; Gramps always had been excessively sharp.

"Also," Mark added, "we are not talking about it, because Prince really needs plausible deniability."

The men toasted this, because they were men getting drunk on a Saturday and barely needed a reason to clink glasses. Severus excused himself to go smoke.

"What's weighing on you? You're supposed to be celebrating," Gramps had apparently come with. Severus lit their cigarettes.

"You're almost too observant, Gramps. You tell me."

"Something happened over Christmas. We didn't see you for a month, maybe you travelled though you didn't mention plans or talk about any place afterwards. You are celebrating tonight, genuinely happy about your brilliant student, but thinking of the student also makes you sad." He paused, then shrugged, "that's all I've got."

Start of discussion of underage sex (rape)

It was already quite close. "This will stay between us?" Gramps nodded. "My student is a minor, and I know he is sexually active and has been for years."

Gramps whistled, "yikes. I can see how that is weighing on you. How old is he? Straight or bent, and is he having sex with adults?"

"He is a young genius, barely thirteen," the relief at being able to share this burden with someone was tangible. He watched his smoky breath dissipate into the drizzle. "I know he is having apparently consensual full intercourse with a slightly older male, but was a grey consensual victim of a paedophile in the past."

"You know," Gramps chewed his words, "when a twelve year old swears you to secrecy you're not actually entering a legally binding agreement, right? You can delegate this to someone trained to handle such things."

Severus shook his head. "He said his guardian knew about the rape in the past, and had taken care of it. He suspects his paedophilic friend got 'disappeared' and does not intend to find out one way or another. Now he is attending therapy and has made some 'good friends,'" he sneered the words, "in some kind of support group."

"You know just how to give a story a twist. What's the guardian's stance on the new friend or friends?"

"I doubt he knows, and would you tell him? The child is thirteen and has reason to believe his previous sexual partner was murdered. In thirteen-year-old logic that means his next boyfriend might meet the same fate."

"What do you know about the new friend? I don't know. Maybe rape victims do need to be having positive encounters or something. Support or whatever. Does the therapist know?"

"Slightly older but also under-age. Male, fellow rape victim. Left marks and rope burns. Apparently this is entirely consensual. British law says consent can only happen at twenty-one."

"Well that one gets broken all the time. Nellie's boyfriend is twenty."

Severus scowled, crushing his butt underfoot. "How can there be consent between children?"

Gramps sighed heavily. "I'm sure the kid's therapist knows. Let the mental health professional figure it out. It sounds cruel, but how are you going to convince him to stop having sex he's actually enjoying? The paedophile took away his control over his body and his right to say no, and now you're telling him he doesn't have a right to say yes?"

End of discussion of underage sex (rape)

Severus crouched, leaning against the damp wall. "He's just so alone, you know? He boards, and the therapist is not in London. He has no friends. The only person he talks to because he wants to is me, and always about chemistry. There is a bit of banter, some moments where he talks to me as an equal, but he always catches himself and apologises."

"You're seeing yourself in him," Gramps realised, and as soon as he heard it Severus knew it was true.

"Minus the sexual abuse, yes. Just, if anyone had cared for me then I might not have done some things, which I still regret."

"But this boy isn't alone now, is he?" Gramps clapped him on the shoulder, a feat which involved a fair bit of stretching. "He has you. So long as you keep having time for him, he'll be okay."

Severus choked a laugh. "No pressure, right?"

"Right. Now, I'm cold, and we were celebrating your chemistry prodigy. Are you coming back in?"

Severus pulled himself to his feet and shook his head. "I want to do some more thinking. I will go for a walk, then head back home."

"Sure, a stroll in Soho, at night," Gramps laughed, "we'll call the Met if you don't turn up again next week." He was suddenly serious, "you know it isn't always safe for men like us out there. Take a cab somewhere and have your stroll in a well lit upper class neighbourhood. Or, you know, go to Surrey for the dogging." Severus was on the receiving end of a peck to the cheek and a card shoved hastily in his pocket. "Take care, alright?"

It was a phone number, and a scrawled 'call me when you get home safe.' When had he even written that? Did Gramps walk around with prepared cards in his pockets? A 'call me for sex' and a 'call me when you get home' and a 'call me to be friends'?

Severus began planning how to stop by Spinner's End on the way back to Hogwarts to use a nearby payphone. Actually, he was an adult. He could spend the night in his house and return to Hogwarts in the morning without the world imploding.

During the walk along Old Compton Street, he decided Gramps was right. Harry was communicating with a mental health professional, and Severus' job was to continue being available in case Potter wanted to talk. They already spent six hours a week together outside of classes. It wouldn't even be hard, to be the child's Professor-friend.

xoxox

Once the snow had melted Bathsheba took to flying around during the day. Severus had tried using their link and the Maori magic to see through her eyes twice already. Once, he had seen the inside of the Ravenclaw common room, albeit upside down. The other time Bathsheba had been mid flight, and Severus had promptly cut the connection to down a stomach-soother. Broom flight was one thing, but winged flight involved so much more up-and-down motion. Perhaps if he took the stomach-soother before connecting? For now at least, this was a part of his familiar bond he did not need to explore further.

On Imbolc, Potter gifted him another flower. He knew it was from Potter, because nobody else would leave a potted plant sitting on his office desk. This time a dwarf sunflower, which Severus had to look up; appreciation and gratitude. It was honestly touching.

Severus shuddered at what the other Professors might think if they knew he was receiving flower messages from a student. He moved the pot into his quarters beside the underwater windows, and found himself hoping it didn't die. He was reluctant to discourage the child, as so far all flowers had carried innocent meanings. Furthermore, Severus had started the process himself with his quiz in Potter's first potions lesson. Would it be wrong to gift something back? Just to alleviate Potter's loneliness? The child had never received mail during breakfast, which meant he either sought out his owl in privacy, or was using some kind of linked device to communicate with his guardian. Considering what Potter had let Severus drag out of his nose during their tutoring-sessions-turned-conversations, the guardian frequently travelled internationally and was generally very busy. Severus doubted there was much contact just for the sake of familiarity occurring there.

When Severus lit his Imbolc fire, Bathsheba promptly disappeared to the owlery. It was a school wide mystery how the flying rodent kept regular peaceful company with birds of prey. As with all mysteries, there was an extensive betting pool, top contender being that Severus had trained Bathsheba to be a brutal killer and outfitted her with concealed ninja blades.

Severus suspected it was more along the lines of magical animals not eating each other, or a protection cast by Minerva. He had caught Potter measuring Bathsheba's limbs once; when confronted he had admitted he had heard the rumours and thought Bathsheba should in fact carry a concealed blade. Severus had walked away before he lost brain cells via diffusion.

The Imbolc magic was invigorating and refreshing, like leaping into an iced-over pond after stewing in a sauna. His entire body tingled alternately hot and cold, but it remained mild due to his weak affiliation with Imbolc and the low level of ritual practice among the student population. The magic was probably much heavier in Diagon, as the shopkeepers celebrated it more.

The rest of the term passed without incident. Flamel's stone was safe; although Severus was sure Quirinus was up to something the man had yet to make his move. His Dark Mark continued to twinge irregularly during meals and in corridors, but there seemed to be no real correlation to anybody's presence or absence. Students continued to break curfew and serve detentions. Potter continued to be an exemplary student in all subjects and a prodigy in Potions. Flint did well coaching the Quidditch team, and Minerva forked over the twenty Galleons they had wagered on the Slytherin-Gryffindor match.

Longbottom had not exploded a cauldron since September. The Weasley twins had evidently found someone else to pilfer prank ingredients from. The OWL and NEWT students were fretting over upcoming exams, making them much too busy to cause trouble. Albus was leaving him alone.

As Severus' world slid closer towards Ostara break (and hadn't it just been January yesterday?), he slid into an armchair by the fire for a rare long day of recreational reading.

All was well.

xoxox

AN: This fic takes place in 1990. The age of consent and tolerance of gayness have changed in the UK since.