I repeat, Trigger warning, discussions of sex (Severus believes Harry to be underage at this time). This fic is dark, and parts of it are based on events that happened to a close friend. Read with self-care. The rewrite will be much cleaner.
Chapter 6: Ostara's Uncomfortable Questions
Potter had returned from Ostara break decidedly tanned. On Tuesday Severus set him right to restocking the infirmary and handed over a stack of essays for grading.
Potter took the orders gracefully and promptly began his usual flawless brewing.
Severus should have been grading as well, but found his gaze drawn to Potter every few minutes. He had been happy over Yule break, carefree despite the tragic narrative he had told.
Now he looked as if having spent much time in the sun, but instead of a relaxing holiday he seemed more tense and wound than Severus had ever seen him.
During term Potter had always been unflappable, despite the Slytherins' waning malice having included several underhand attempts on his life. Severus couldn't think what could have downed the usually spirited eleven-year-old so, except his mind kept going back to the rape the child had suffered.
Slowly, carefully, Severus drew his wand. Potter had shown sensitivity to drawn wands in the past, so it was best to do this without him noticing. Shielded by the stacks of paperwork on his desk, he surreptitiously cast the injuries diagnostic.
Before the magic had even left his wand, Potter was whirling away from the cauldrons and drawing his own. Severus had to bat away a lightning fast expelliarmus-stupefy-incarcerous chain sent his way. As he was casting an advanced shield spell on himself he commanded Bathsheba to flee down the hidden passageway he had cut into the castle for her. Potter was already erecting a shield around the potions he had been brewing.
The child stood there under a protego, breathing even, wand pointing straight at Severus' heart. Although he couldn't identify the spell, it was evident there was magic built up in Potter's wand an instant from release. He knew from experience it took incredible discipline to be able to hold a spell like that.
On instinct Severus had charged a stunner and assumed a similar ready stance across from him.
They stood there for at least a minute in silence before Potter's charged spell fizzle out. "Professor," Potter began, quiet voice loud in the silent room, "did I do something to provoke your casting magic on me?"
Severus' stunner purposefully hit the ceiling as he straightened and walked back to his seat. "My apologies, Mister Potter. I should have asked before casting a diagnostic. I was merely concerned for your well-being."
Potter sighed. His wand flicked back into its quick draw holster, his posture relaxed and his hands went to his hair to fix the quill back into place. "Shite, you can't just do that to me! I have instincts and battle training. Anything could have happened." The wand flicked back out to dismantle the wards on the brews, and through quick decisive action he managed to salvage the blood replenisher and the healing balm. The irredeemable dittany-based salve was promptly vanished.
Judging the situation disarmed, Severus sat and sheathed his wand. "I should have realised your guardian had provided you with basic defence training." He did not comment on the cheek, considering the situation had been Severus' fault.
They both knew Potter was trained far beyond basics, and that his statement had been a rather obvious attempt at fishing. He ignored the way his heart was pounding in his ears from an altercation with an eleven-year-old.
Potter rejected the bait. "You may approach and cast your diagnostic while I add the milkweed leaves, Professor Snape."
Glancing at the potion to determine the time, Severus nodded and returned to his grading, allowing their pulses to calm again.
When the moment came, Severus stood and approached carefully. As Potter performed the time intensive step of adding each of the thirty leaves individually, stirring them the necessary pattern, he drew his wand again and cast the recent-injury-and-location diagnostic. He felt foolish doing it considering the poor reception of his previous attempt, and he felt stupid for worrying so about Potter's health. He was a child returning from Ostara break, what could possibly be wrong?
And then the results poured into his head, certain parts of Potter's body lighting up in soft yellow light. Potter was pretending intent on his stirring.
Severus decided he needed to sit down. Potter had evidently been sexually active over break with a violent partner.
"Do you need any healing supplies?" Severus spoke when the yellow glow on Potter had faded and he was sure his own tone would be effectively nonchalant.
Potter looked over from his brewing, a flash of incredulity quickly replaced by a blank mask. "That would defy the point, wouldn't it Professor?"
So the point was to be injured; bruised bitten scratched and torn up inside. Though some wounds had evidently been healed slightly, mismatching the intensity of his other injuries.
"I am at a loss how to handle this," Severus admitted, "you are eleven. You do not need to be performing sexual favours for anyone. You do not deserve the punishing, violent treatment you have been receiving." Severus was glad Potter was turned away from him, brewing, so that Severus could address these statements to his back.
Severus was the child's head of house, but he was helpless if he kept getting brushed off. The Headmaster, Deputy, Poppy all could not help until Potter indicated he wanted out of the situation he was in.
"If I were above the age of consent, Professor–" Potter began slowly, before cutting off. "–if I were above a reasonable age of consent, like sixteen. Is sixteen reasonable?"
Severus hummed.
"Alright, so given I was in your opinion capable of giving consent, how would you 'handle this'?"
"Your age and mental development is the problem, Potter!" Severus flinched inwardly. Their language had been far from formal but addressing Potter so casually was wrong.
They both ignored it. "Professor, let us pretend I were able to consent. What would you be saying to me then?"
Severus thought. Being able to consent did not protect adults from making poor relationship choices. Potter was either a masochist (Severus blanched at the thought the young boy was capable of arousal and sexuality) or in some form the victim of an unhealthy abusive relationship. He had evidently healed the worst of his injuries but left the rest.
"Do you believe you deserve to be injured, Mister Potter? Punished, somehow?"
Potter actually snorted, but regained his composure quickly. "I suppose I may have a few lingering unhealthy self-worth issues," he spoke slowly, "but mostly it's grounding. A way to let go and de-stress. It was an exhausting two weeks for me, sir."
Severus latched onto the last so that he would not have to process the rest. "Mister Potter what in the life of an eleven-year-old-boy," they both ignored Potter's flinch, "my apologies. What is so stressful in your life? The break is supposed to be a holiday that relaxes you, Mister Potter. You may be doing it wrong."
Potter flashed him a grin over his shoulder. "I accompanied my guardian on a politics-heavy trip to Brazil. There were stuffy balls, long evenings of stiff sitting, and more pureblood manners than I had in me. My guardian was happy with the agreement they came to, but for me the ten days there were, above all, exhausting."
Severus could only imagine. He had attended a few such society events under Lucius' invitation, and while the conversations and the networking were interesting, he had always been bone-tired by the end of the night. Keeping all the correct customs and manners in his head had been part of the trouble, of course; Severus had not been raised a pureblood heir.
During such events Draco and the other children would spend long hours sitting quietly and speaking only when spoken to. Older heirs might be expected to make small talk with dignitaries. Severus was sure Dante had merely forgotten to include socio-political formal events as one of the layers of Hell.
"Perhaps your guardian will allow you to remain home or at Hogwarts the next break." Deciding the situation was mostly settled, Severus got up and returned to his desk.
Potter gave a mocking laugh. "Professor Snape, I'm expected to go into politics, representing several noble families with a net worth approaching half a billion galleons. I will be a good heir, and do my duty." In his own way, the boy sounded heartbroken.
Severus would have killed to have had a place as the Prince heir when he was a child. A place he belonged, people who looked to him, instant respect in every room. Potter had his guardian's unknown but evidently important name behind him, the Potter heirship, likely also the Black one. If he wanted to, he could easily take Draco's place as Slytherin's prince. "Is there something you would rather be doing, Mister Potter?"
"Brewing, sir, for one," he answered immediately, "getting more masteries, inventing potions or wards or spells that somehow make life better. Solving problems we face everyday rather than solving snobbish rich prats' problems concerning the vineyard they wish to build in so-and-so in France, but the high price of quality imported cork making business difficult, hence a need to find themselves exempt from local taxation despite their use of local infrastructure." He had gone from warm and enthusiastic, to spiteful and bitter.
It was a very specific example. His guardian was apparently an international fixer of problems. If Severus asked Lucius, he may even be able to narrow it down to several candidates, though that would then leave Lucius knowing the identity of Potter's guardian. Better then to close that avenue of investigation.
Potter gave a long, satisfied sigh as he sat down, flicking off the remaining flame under his second cauldron. A few last touches and he was done with both potions. The third would be re-attempted on Thursday. Severus was honestly surprised this was the first time Potter had in any way wasted ingredients.
There were barely five minutes until curfew. "Mister Potter, return to the dormitory before I must give you detention."
He nodded, grabbed his bags and all but ran from the room.
As Severus divided up the potion into small portions, he realised Potter had managed somehow to skirt around talking about his injuries.
On Thursday there was a fourth year dunderhead serving detention, so Severus could not broach the topic. It was a week before they would begin the conversation anew.
Potter looked more relaxed this evening, moving easily around the room as he collected ingredients. Severus had given him permission to attempt Amortenia, a finicky brew that was illegal to possess. Potter had claimed he only wanted the practice, and Severus was prone to believing him. Nevertheless, he would supervise more closely than usual to make sure none of the brew went missing.
Severus could have sworn Potter had just stopped himself from humming.
"What if I crush the juniper berries instead of halving them?"
"The potency would be even stronger. Mister Potter, what would that mean for the consumer?" A stronger brew was not always better.
"Obsessive, reckless behaviour, sir?"
"Are you asking me, or telling me?" Severus hated it when people expressed their uncertainty in such a plebeian way. Confidence in your own informed opinions was paramount, and if you did not know for sure, you should not speak at all. Potter should know this by now.
"I'm basing my assumptions off the effects of aged Amortenia. I am unsure if that is correct."
What was Potter doing with aged illegal love potions? "You are correct with your description of the effects. Have you had any experience therewith?" Please dear Gods say no, please say no, please–
Potter shook his head, beginning the process of chopping the nettles. "My guardian's friend once ate dosed chocolates. Thankfully, he got the antidote before he embarrassed himself. It was...unpleasant, seeing what love potions can do to an otherwise rational, brilliant mind."
Severus nodded. He was grateful the child hadn't been involved himself, but it was also good he had seen the effects; it would hopefully steer him clear of using them in the future.
"My guardian says I should always carry an antidote, because people might try to prey on me for my name and status. If I ever father a child, I will have to marry the mother, and the pureblood world knows this," Potter shuddered. Done with the preparations, he lit the flame below the cauldron and began to brew.
"Your guardian is correct, although you are a bit young yet. I doubt you will be able to father children for a few years, and on the same note you will be safe from love potions until then, Mister Potter. It is good that you are wary of them, nonetheless."
"I'd rather not have children," Potter admitted, "there's so much that can go wrong. Malleable minds and all that. I'd really rather not mess someone else up." His voice was so quiet and vulnerable. It was strange for a pre-pubescent child to be speaking so candidly about his fears over parenting.
"Will your guardian force you into marriage, do you think, Mister Potter?" It would reveal a lot about their character either way.
Potter shrugged, an ugly habit. It was surprising his guardian allowed it. "Circumstances will force me, but I'll have a lot of leeway in choosing a partner for myself. For a wealthy pureblood heir, I'm lucky. My parents aren't around to pressure me, are they Professor?"
What a macabre bright side. "And your sexuality? Will your guardian respect that? You said over Yule break that you already had a suitor. Am I right to assume he was the cause of your injuries over Ostara?"
"You're not going to let that drop, are you Professor?" Potter took a moment to count out the three sets of seven clockwise stirs.
It was an unpleasant topic, but Severus needed to know that his future apprentice was safe physically and healthy emotionally. Currently he had extreme doubts about both, despite Potter's blasé attitude and heightened maturity.
Potter sighed, sitting back from the cauldron as there was a pause in the brewing process. "My sexuality is irrelevant, sir. Hopefully I will marry for love, or at least deep mutual affection. If I have to, it will be a political match instead. In any case they will either meet my sexual needs or there will be some arrangement where I find fulfilment elsewhere. It's not something I'm worried about now, but I know I refuse to be in Lord Malfoy's situation."
Severus hadn't realised the state of Lucius' marriage was common knowledge. And here Potter was again, distracting him from what he had wanted to talk about.
"Nonetheless, Mister Potter, you are eleven. You should not be worrying about future sexual partners. You should not have a current sexual partner. You should definitely not be coming away from encounters with your sexual partner bearing injuries."
Potter smirked at him, "are you this concerned about all your students' sex lives, Professor? One might easily misinterpret your interest."
Severus flattened his first impulse, which was to lash out in deep upset at the accusation. He was trying to help the child, how could Potter not see that! But then he realised this was normal, that he was being deflected purposefully. This time, it would not work. "I am concerned for your well-being, as you are aware, Mister Potter," he failed to keep all of his ire out of his voice, "the sooner we have this conversation, the sooner we can put it behind us. Please explain why you were so injured during Ostara break."
Potter blinked at him. "You honestly want details? You're a sexually aware adult, I'm sure you are perfectly capable of imagining the act."
Severus was not sure since when his students thought of him as sexually aware. Last he had heard, the rumour was that the Slytherin Dungeon Bat was asexual. But this was Potter, he reminded himself, who had an uncanny ability to see the truth of things. Severus knew how he had been hurt, and had himself inflicted similar injuries before in a safe, sane consensual context. He stifled his groan. Why did Potter have to be Slytherin? Filius, in jest, had offered to trade him an obnoxious pureblood sixth year who was always causing trouble. Perhaps Ravenclaw could have custodianship over Potter instead?
"I am more interested in your and your partner's frame of mind."
Potter hummed, mincing some ingredient or another. Severus had lost track completely. "My partner felt like hurting and I felt like being hurt. I approached him, we negotiated the terms, had sex, and I left. I cannot speak for him, but I felt better afterwards."
"Felt better," Severus echoed snidely.
"Mentally, I felt calmer and more grounded. Using an ageing potion my body's plumbing even allows me release. We took precautions to be safe and it was consensual on both our parts. Besides our ages, I don't see any problem you could have."
This was mortifying and infuriating simultaneously. "It is not healthy to use sex as a coping mechanism, Mister Potter. No matter your age." Also the matter of the ageing potions, but that was just too much to think about right now.
Severus also enjoyed using sex as a coping mechanism, but Potter did not need to know that.
Potter sat back again from the cauldron. It was finished, needing only an additional ten minutes of simmering time. "Perhaps there are better ways, but I have yet to find them. I have time though, don't I?" Here, he sounded both wistful and sad, as if being eleven was a curse. Perhaps it was, Severus had not much enjoyed any of his childhood years. "Is there anything else, Professor, or can we let the subject drop now?"
Severus did not feel the matter to be settled, but Potter was so stubborn and sure of himself, while Severus himself was on shaky ground when it came to being an emotionally healthy, well adjusted human being. "Your guardian arranged a therapist for you, Mister Potter," he recalled, "have you been talking with him or her or whatever pronoun they prefer about your sexual habits?" In a perfect world, Severus would let the ground swallow him before this conversation had to occur.
"Would that make you feel better? Knowing a professional was discussing this with me, so that you don't have to, sir?"
Potter had cut to the heart of the matter, so Severus gave a perfunctory nod.
"Alright, I promise I have honestly talked to my therapist about my sexual abuse, my sexual preferences, consent and how to have healthy relationships. Although we disagree on some points she does not think I am unstable or particularly at risk. Knowing this, does it ease your concerns?"
That was very reassuring, actually. "Is your guardian aware of your habits?" he asked his final question on the matter.
Potter's face blanked. Severus could smell the Amortenia as it reached its final stage. Smoke, whiskey, sweat, it was nothing that distinguished one of the patrons of the Admiral Duncan from another. Potter had frozen and was staring at the cauldron with a mix of horror, pain and wistfulness on his face.
Just as the nuances of the smell became apparent and Severus could identify a trace of cinnamon in the mix, Potter reached out his wand, hand trembling, and vanished the potion. It worked a little too well, vanishing the cauldron and burner as well as half a butcher's block along with it.
Potter let out a startled laugh, though there were tears in his eyes that were threatening to spill over. "Sorry," he said shakily, sheathing his wand. He picked up the board and examined the worktable, "I'll send out an owl order to replace the cauldron and burner for you. Is there a brand you prefer?"
Severus scowled. Given more time, he might have been able to identify the smell properly. On the other hand, such a crawling, unfocused scent meant he was only mildly infatuated with the person. It wasn't like Amortenia presented the smell of your one true love, or some such rot. Perhaps that was the real reason Potter had wanted to brew it, as a way to confirm some kind of suspected emotional bond?
"Jigger's burners, and the cauldrons from a small shop in Hogsmeade that imports them from Germany. The quality is good, the price fair and the German cauldron bottom thicknesses are very strongly regulated for safety. I will order them myself, you are allowed some collateral damage as a student. Considering how many of Longbottom's brews you have saved, Mister Potter, Hogwarts likely owes you a debt."
Potter smiled weakly, still somehow shocked at what the Amortenia had revealed to him. The silly child must fancy himself in love.
"You were telling me about your guardian," Severus reminded him gently. He had completed his chosen brew perfectly, and as Potions Master that was Severus' only place to judge. Potter's reaction was irrelevant.
"My guardian–" Potter grimaced. "My guardian is supportive of my..." he broke off again. "My guardian is aware of the fact I have developed intimate relationships, and maintains a neutral stance."
Great. Apparently Potter had several sexual partners. "But?"
He sighed gustily. "It would be...better...if I would be attracted to and have feelings for more...appropriate people."
That was fair. Severus also wished Potter were involved in more age-appropriate relationships. Nevertheless, Potter was cared for, and this was not Severus' business. He decided the child could do what he wanted, and it would decidedly not be his problem. If he stopped asking questions about it, Potter would surely let it rest.
Then he remembered his conversation with Gramps, about Severus most likely being Potter's only confidant, as close to a friend as he had. "Mister Potter..." he began gently, still not sure what he would say. Potter looked at him with bright eyes, still teary, "you may come to me and talk if you want to." That sounded stupid, and Severus wondered at his status as an educator. "I am aware you do not get along with most fellow Slytherins, but you could approach members of other houses. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs each have their merits."
Potter downright grinned then, "I like Neville, actually. Were you aware, sir, that his Great-Uncle Algie tried to kill him multiple times because he thought he was a squib?"
Severus grimaced. He had not known, but now he would have to inform Minerva. Knowing her attitude, the abuse would not get anywhere near as much attention as the Longbottom boy deserved. Furthermore, apparently his Slytherin had been fraternising with Gryffindors, which was just wrong. They might influence him to reckless acts of stupidity, and Potter could not afford to make many mistakes.
"I will talk to Minerva, but I repeat my recommendation to make friends or alliances in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. In any case, I am available if you need to talk to someone."
Potter smiled at him, a genuine happy smile reminiscent of all the beaming he had done at the beginning of the school year. "Thank you, Professor, I'll take that to heart. Was there anything else?" he began pre-emptively gathering his notes, then vanished the rest of the chopping board.
Severus couldn't think of any reason not to end this uncomfortable conversation, and promptly said so. "Nothing else, Mister Potter. I will see you on Thursday."
With a lopsided grin accompanying his farewell, Potter left the room.
The next day at breakfast he sat at the Hufflepuff table next to the Diggory heir. The school gossips immediately began a woeful tale of young love. By Thursday night it was commonly known that Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory were star-crossed lovers, finally reunited, reborn since their tragic deaths in Verona.
"I meant for you to befriend someone closer to your own age, Mister Potter," Severus announced tiredly as Potter entered the room for their usual lesson.
The child smirked at him, then held the door open wider for Diggory to follow him in. "Professor, Cedric volunteered to de-bone mice by not paying attention in transfiguration today."
Now Minerva was foisting her detentions on him. She probably even thought it funny, adding another layer onto the rumours. He would get his revenge later.
Severus was still getting to his feet while Potter had already shown Diggory to the detention worktable and hauled over the barrel of mice in stasis for him. Severus watched as Potter demonstrated a fast, easy way to pick the bones from the carcass. Diggory seemed repulsed, it was admittedly a disgusting process.
Leaving Diggory to his detention, Potter washed his hands thoroughly, then approached his usual bench at the front to spread out his books. He floated over a stack of graded essays. "What will I be doing today, Professor Snape?"
Severus glared at him. He had wanted to talk about the nature of his relationship with Diggory, but the teen was right there. Potter smiled disarmingly up at him, a hint of a smirk in his features. If it hadn't been Minerva then Potter had probably arranged this on purpose somehow, just to annoy him.
Severus was becoming paranoid. While as cunning as the best of his Slytherins, he could not have engineered this. And de-boning was one of the less-pleasant detentions, so Potter couldn't even be accused of going easy on his friend.
Today he did not want to supervise another perfect brew. Considering Potter's aptitude, he must be capable of unique thought. "Today, we will discuss how potions can help with burns during Midsummer celebrations," he announced.
Potter laughed merrily and summoned a notepad from his desk. The ubiquitous hair-quill was poised to take notes. "As far as I see it," the boy began, "there are three aspects of fire defence: making the fire less dangerous, making the drinker less prone to injury, and making injuries heal quickly, painlessly, scarlessly. Another idea is to keep the people far from the fires, but since the traditional ceremonies include jumping over a flame and passing between two fires we can rule common sense straight out."
Severus granted him a small smile. As half-bloods with some experience in the muggle world, they had a unique perspective on the stupidity and lack of logic most of the wizarding population suffered from.
In a world where, for example fixing a broken limb was as easy as putting a plaster on a scraped knee, small children were allowed to fly on enchanted sticks at high speeds without precautionary cushioning charms. It was very difficult to accidentally kill magical children, so Hogwarts was full of death traps like moving staircases, suits of armour bearing live steel, and children granted a deadly weapon at the tender age of eleven. Wizards were idiots, but magic could fix almost anything, so it was okay.
Which reminded him, there was a Cerberus on the third-floor corridor that Albus was still refusing to put behind an age line. Severus honestly did not understand how in the past century, Myrtle had been the only casualty at the school. He knew if not for James Potter's change of heart over Black's prank, that count would be two.
Severus' smile turned into a scowl, causing Potter's chatter about flame freezing potions to cut off. "Alright, so no potions that allow the drinker to walk through charmed fire."
If that wasn't a jab at Severus' protection for the Stone, he didn't know what was. Severus narrowed his eyes farther and cast a low-level legilimency scan.
Potter's eyes widened, evidently having detected it. He twisted on his seat to see Diggory focused on the mice. When he turned back he raised a quick wandless privacy charm. At his age that should be impossible. On top of that, Severus was once again impressed by Potter's occlumency, which was allowing Severus to just graze his surface thoughts with everything deeper locked under barriers even Albus would struggle with.
Potter was projecting wariness mixed with intense curiosity.
"What do you know about drinking potions to protect from cursed fire?" Severus asked, tone neutral.
Potter's eyes widened, then he smiled. His thoughts had turned warm and affectionate, ridiculously fond. "The protections on the door are utterly insufficient." There was anger and resignation. "The Gryffindors have made a game of it, who can make it through to the last room. The Weasley twins may or may not have dared me to go." Potter projected sheepishness, and wry amusement. His face mirrored the emotion with a lopsided smile. "Logic is a weakness of many wizards and witches. Your challenge is definitely my favourite." There was fond affection again, then the emotions cut off and Severus understood his attempt at legilimency had been tolerated but was not welcome again.
Severus tried to flick the privacy ward down, though he succeeded only on his second attempt. Whoever had taught Potter had started early and made sure he knew uncommon versions. Yet again, Severus was impressed.
"Tell me about different ways to heal burns, Mister Potter," he looked around, content to leave the topic be, "we will discuss your rule-breaking on a day where none of the sixth-years demonstrated their utter incompetence. Before you leave you are to clean the residue." Despite his ire not being directed at Potter, Severus knew his tone had shifted from disapproving to cutting. Peripherally he was aware of Diggory shrinking in his seat.
Potter remained completely unaffected, switching to the ordered topic happily. The child was practically bubbling with enthusiasm for possible combinations of a burn heal that also reduced scarring. The idea wasn't half bad, but the approach was completely wrong.
"Use a scar-reducing agent as the base of the burn healing potion. The result should be a thick paste."
Potter nodded, scratching through that part of his notes and starting anew. If he managed to create a reasonable recipe Severus would let him brew it; the concept was not difficult and had been done before by both a Hungarian and a Chilean potions master already. Perhaps if Potter was busy inventing potions he would not be running around Hogwarts consorting with Gryffindors, and especially not the Weasley twins.
"You will invent three possible recipes for such a potion, and I will select the most feasible one for you to brew on Tuesday," he announced his decision. Potter was grinning happily, gathering his notes to move back to his own workspace. If he was in such a good mood, he might as well provide something useful. Severus leafed through the stacks of ungraded essays on his desk for something he could unload on an eleven-year-old, "you will also grade these fourth year Ravenclaws' essays on important information about commonly used potions ingredients. Mark them down if they fail to be concise, here, have the Hufflepuffs' for comparison."
Potter took the stack with a smile and without complaint. Then he began cleaning, vanishing some stains and setting aside cauldrons to be manually scrubbed. The three of them worked in silence for the next hour.
"Your detention is served," Severus announced when ninety minutes were up. Diggory cleaned up his workplace and slunk toward the door.
Potter was watching Severus morosely. Were those puppy-dog eyes? Potter was out of his mind, and Severus hadn't even realised he could be swayed so easily. But the child had behaved well, and he had his mother's eyes as a secret weapon. "Go on then," Severus acquiesced just as the door was swinging shut behind Diggory.
Potter jumped up, glowing happily as he used a wordless spell to expedite the packing of his bag. "Thanks Professor, 'night Professor!" He stopped in the door and swooped into a deeper bow than necessary, grinned at him again and scampered off with Diggory.
"Does he really give you fourth year–" the door fell shut, leaving Severus in blissful silence.
He enjoyed going over his coming lesson plans in peace. He looked up, wanting to ask Potter his opinion on whether his third years were ready for simple antivenins, just to realise his absence. Despite his tendency to noise and more enthusiasm than necessary for the most ridiculous things, his fluctuating respect and the utter nightmare that have custodianship over Potter was, the boy was a delight to teach, and exceptionally good company to have around in his dreary potions classroom.
Severus gathered his papers. It was half an hour to curfew, he might as well move this to his dining room table-turned-desk in his quarters. Ruthlessly he suppressed his pang of envy at Diggory, who had the pleasure of Potter's company all evening. He wasn't an idiot. He knew Potter broke curfew all the time for any reason at all, as well as no reason whatsoever.
xoxox
Exam season passed in a whirlwind and as time was wont to flying it was June before Severus had truly realised spring's turnover into summer. The mountain of grading was looming, so Severus gladly accepted Minerva's invitation to visit her summer home.
"Another year over," Minerva announced. It would have sounded happy, had she not simultaneously sounded so exhausted.
"Indeed," Severus replied, and helped himself to her scotch; Minerva always had excellent scotch. "Slytherin won the House Cup," he reminded her smugly. Quidditch had gone to Ravenclaw, but the lions were playing without a decent seeker while the snakes needed at least one new beater. Neither had had expectations to win that cup.
Minerva merely pursed her lips. "Yes. Thanks to Potter. If he had been in Gryffindor like his parents the House Cup would likely have been mine."
"As if Potter belongs anywhere but Slytherin house," Severus protested. The child was the most cunning, manipulative ambitious person he had ever encountered. He had gotten Severus to agree to an apprenticeship! And he had sat his Potions NEWT with the graduating class. If the results were as excellent as Severus anticipated he could begin tutoring Potter properly come September.
Minerva sipped her own scotch and sighed. "He does seem to be doing well in your house. Do the others treat him well? I worry, you know. All those children with parents feeding them certain ideas from the cradle. Children can be so vicious."
Don't I know it, Severus did not reply. "My Slytherins can determine when they are outmatched or outranked, and Potter is high above the mean." At least they would if they were intelligent. Unfortunately many looked down at and scorned Potter, for his role in the Dark Lord's fall and out of envy of his clear superiority. As it was they frequently hexed him, cursed his back, set small malicious traps. So far Potter had escaped unscathed, but a small minority had yet to give up their attempts at sabotage.
Severus hoped it was sabotage. If he was truly honest with himself he would have to acknowledge attempted murder. No, it was better to live in denial and neither watch too closely nor ask too many questions. Potter did himself no favours with his policy of not striking back. One or two death threats could easily solve the issue, but instead Potter kept playing his games. Severus had no doubt about it being a game to his future apprentice. He outclassed the others absolutely.
Severus was a Slytherin. He would let his Slytherins do their political manoeuvring without interfering. "Potter knows what he is doing," Severus finished.
"Yes. The boy is astonishingly competent and mature. What do you know of his home life? Children from happy homes do not tend to grow up so fast. It isn't natural."
Severus winced. His House was full of children grown up too fast, and Potter could top them all. "I looked into it over Yule break and identified a likely cause. The problem was already being dealt with by his guardian."
"Is he a good guardian, then?"
"I do not know. Careful, definitely. Even more so since the incident, I imagine. The guardian travels frequently for work, and now Potter must travel with rather than staying in a stable environment. He was in Brazil over Ostara, and you saw how exhausted he was when he returned." Severus thought carefully over what to share and what to keep for himself.
Potter had approached him before Midsummer with another flower and a regretful smile. He had said he would be travelling and be unable to receive any mail over Summer, not even Hogwarts' owl would be able to find him. He would send Severus an owl that was keyed to his personal wards in several weeks and wanted his school letter and supplies list sent with it. Severus had agreed and suddenly realised he needed to compile a book list for his first apprentice.
But Minerva was still waiting, so Severus continued to feed her snippets of truth. "The guardian is paranoid about keeping Potter safe, which he does not mind. He seemed happy to return home after his OWLs. He knows muggle London well enough and he wore expensive but comfortable clothes. I was left with the impression he spent a lot of time unsupervised, or at least only distantly watched. He has been taught political manoeuvring by a very cunning mind."
Minerva waited for him to say more, but soon realised that was it, "are you certain about the expensive robes?"
"Yes. He owns expensive robes, but chooses to wear the Malkin's uniform at school. I did not ask him why, but assume he has his reasons." It baffled Severus. He had been forced to wear ill-fitting second hand school robes during his own Hogwarts years, and would have given arm and leg to fit in with the wealthy children that made up half of the school population.
Potter had his own reasons for doing what he did, and so far he hadn't deigned to share them with him.
"What about Mister Weasley?" Severus inelegantly changed the topic.
Minerva let it go. "Which one?"
"The youngest."
She bristled defensively, "what about him?"
Severus raised an incredulous brow. "He is close to failing most classes. He is your lion, have you talked to him about it?"
And so they discussed the youngest Weasley before moving on to his twin brothers and switching back to discussing the youngest Crabbe's problems with literacy. It seemed now that the year was over and they no longer had students to teach all they could do was talk about them. Severus ended the night slightly drunk on superb scotch and resolute to check up on some of his Slytherins' homes during the summer.
Perhaps it was unnecessary in many cases but he could not fail those who needed help.