Harry's alarm went off, and he turned it off with a scowl.
He had slept pretty well and without nightmares, even after reading Ernie's scary book. He was not going to even consider for a second that he slept well after a spanking – impossible and ridiculous and Snape hadn't even smacked him that hard.
Once dressed, Harry went downstairs, determined to make breakfast and pretend like last night didn't happen. All these years with Snape in this house and all the craziness that went with living with the world's most disgruntled potions master had taught Harry to just keep going and not look back and ignore the constant embarrassment of having to act all obedient and subservient to Snape most of the time.
He would put the kettle on, cook eggs and bacon, burn Ernie's book in the backyard, and stay out of Snape's way.
When he went into the kitchen, he saw the owls in the backyard – over a dozen and each standing guard over thick, rectangular packages.
"Oh, forget me," Harry sighed. (After swearing at Snape during the summer during the whole Sirius debacle, Snape had hit him with a spell—curse maybe?—that didn't allow him to swear.)
He ran out, careful to edge the door shut as he wasn't wearing a coat and it was freezing outside.
He grabbed the packages, shooed away the owls, and was back inside in mere seconds. Vampyr met him in the kitchen, ears perked and making a whiny sound.
"Shh-shh," Harry cautioned. "Don't make any noise. We aren't going to annoy Snape today."
Packages down on the table, Harry grabbed the letter on the first one and tore into it.
Dear Mr. Potter,
Felicitations and gratitude for your resent bravery. I understand you are convalescing at your home, and I humbly offer you my manuscript for review. Please read it and offer any approval or criticism you deem worthy.
Your best fan,
Dorethea Alganus
Harry ripped open the package to read what was a title page, words spattered with red ink to look like blood: Neverending Nightmare in Darkness.
With a shudder, he tossed the manuscript on the table and grabbed the next one.
They were all manuscripts, some with grotesque pictures drawn on the front page, but all with disturbing titles: Witches of Terror, The Torture Dungeon, Blood Moon-Blood Lust, Murdering Muggles, Discovered Body in the Tower.
Harry paused over the last one, considering. It might be a murder mystery and he enjoyed a murder mystery every now and then. Usually, the murder happened early in the mystery, and then it became all about clues, and alibis, and where were you at ten o'clock that night?, and puzzles to solve. As long as the murder was swift and gotten out of the way without reveling in it, Harry tolerated it. He deliberately refused to think carefully while reading them, wanting to be surprised at the end when the dastardly murderer was revealed.
Snape didn't approve of murder mysteries so they had to be snuck in and read in hidden corners of Hogwarts while drinking hot chocolate on cold nights.
Harry opened the letter with the Discovered Body package and glanced over the words in hopes of signs of a mystery novel.
Synopsis: Geraldum, rejected by all witches his entire life, decides to make the perfect girlfriend – out of the bodies of the witches who rejected him. He has the body sewn together and now is looking for the perfect set of eyes to complete it –
"Come on," Harry threw the letter down. "Where do people come up with these horrible ideas? Now I have to imagine it!"
A creak sounded on the stairs, and Harry scooped up all the packages, flung them into an empty cupboard, and assumed a nonchalant position by leaning against the counter.
"Morning," he nodded to Snape.
Snape gave him a look of martyred long-suffering and went to pick up the kettle. He went to the tap, filling up the kettle, and then putting it on the stove as silence tightened the tension between them.
Harry was about to let out a long sigh when he caught sight of movement out the window.
Three new owls were in the back, each with a package.
Harry slowly moved to the wall opposite the windows, hoping Snape would look in his direction and not out the window where a fourth owl was soaring down to land.
"It might snow," Harry blurted out.
Blast, Snape was turning towards the window to see the weather.
"I want to walk out in the snow," Harry declared. "If it snows, I want to go out."
Snape's head snapped in his direction. "You will not go out in the snow. You are not allowed out of this house."
"Until . . .?"
"Forever. You are forbidden from stepping outside for the rest of your life. I will chain you to the stairs."
"Ah, this will be my own horror story," Harry attempted a grin.
From the edge of his peripheral vision, he saw a fifth and sixth owl fly into the backyard.
"I don't remember saying you could get out bed," Snape drummed his fingers on the edge of the stove. "You might be possessed. You could be infected with the Dark Lord's magic. You were hysterical last night, stricken with fear."
"That was more about the book . . ." Harry trailed off. Another owl was flying down. "Uh, you know, last night I was off my head. I knew I was upsetting you by hiding things from you which is always a mistake. I'm really sorry."
For a second, their eyes met, and they were so close to being back to normal, so close to Snape giving in and talking honestly, so close –
Snape glanced towards the window.
"Don't look out there!" Harry shouted.
Vampyr barked at the loud noise.
Snape jumped, nearly knocking the kettle off the stove.
Harry kicked himself mentally. He was supposed to be reassuring his father, not scaring him again.
"What are those birds doing here?" Snape roared. "Did you order more books?"
"No, Dad, I swear. It's – they're – they're nothing!"
"You stay right there," Snape pointed a finger at him. He stalked outside, shutting the door behind him with a click.
Vampyr went to stand in front of Harry, placing his big paws on the toes of Harry's shoes.
"Ooo, I'm so scared of you," Harry sniped at the dog. When Vampyr raised big, soulful eyes up, Harry relented and petted the dog's head, preferring to give the dog attention instead of watching Snape get the packages from each owl.
Harry kept his gaze down as Snape came back in and deposited the packages on the table. With the same kind of disgruntled movements he used when thoroughly annoyed with distracted students, Snape tore the letters off all the packages and placed them on the table.
"These all are addressed to you."
"Well, I never get mail," Harry couldn't quite look up. "You get orders for potions and materials all the time, but I never get anything. Maybe it was because of the wards here that hid me from – um, just hid me. I wonder if those wards lifted now that – ah, um -"
"Now that you killed the Dark Lord? And nearly died in the process?"
"Or maybe wards just lift every now and then. This might be years of collected mail. I ordered new quills from Flourish and Blotts a year ago and they didn't come and I didn't get my money back."
A complete lie, but who cared? Anything to make Snape feel better.
"Open these," Snape thrust the letters out. "Figure out what is in each package."
Bluff called. "They're all horror novels. I don't want to read them. But every stupid forgetting wizard and witch in our forgetting world who has ever scrawled out a forgetting novel – why won't you let me swear? It sounds so forgetting stupid!"
"Silencio!"
The spell hit Harry without warning.
He glared at Snape—apparently, his father could use magic when he wanted but glowered all over the place if Harry did—and yanked open the cabinet. Harry grabbed the other manuscripts and stacked them down on the table.
Snape looked furious, but then the doorbell rang.
Harry gestured to his mouth and Snape said, "Finite Incantatem."
They went to the living room, Snape motioned for Harry to get behind him. Harry complied, willing to let Snape play the role of overprotective father and deciding not to vocalize his opinion that they needed a windowed front door or at least a peephole.
Snape cast an opening charm on the door, and it swung open to reveal Ginny.
She blinked at their tense positions, wrinkling her freckled nose. "Sorry. I didn't want to Floo over unannounced. I just wanted to see if Harry was all right."
The last time Harry had seen her was on the bridge walk to Hogwarts. They had exchanged a quick kiss but Snape had bundled him off, insisting he not make a scene. Several towers of the castle had been still smoking from the battle, but somehow Snape had felt PDA between the Chosen One and his girlfriend was just too awful to witness.
"You've got some owls out here," Ginny stepped back to reveal dozens of owls scattered over the front yard. "Expecting a package?"
Harry could feel the heat radiating from Snape, but he also felt slightly embarrassed that Ginny had to stumble in on their fight. Harry worked so hard to hide their family squabbles from everyone because . . . well, he didn't like the idea that, having been offered a chance to have a family, he couldn't quite make it perfect. (There was some excuse there, having chosen the most damaged father possible, but it was all too late to change that.)
"It's a long story," Harry started, but Snape interrupted,
"I'm sorry, Miss Weasley. Mr. Potter is not up to seeing company."
Ginny glanced from Snape to Harry before whispering to her boyfriend, "Is this one of his power trips you talked about?"
"I was joking!" Harry wailed.
"I'm freezing," Ginny declared. "If you don't want me to stay, fine, but let me in for a moment."
Snape turned and stalked back to the kitchen.
Harry pulled her in and shut the door, hissing, "I'm in disgrace. I reviewed Ernie's book, I'm getting all these horror manuscripts to read, I can't do anything right, and Snape is still furious I killed Voldemort."
"Shit," Ginny shook her head.
Harry felt slightly disgruntled at her being able to swear but there were other things to worry about once they stepped in the kitchen.
Snape was slamming around cups and saucers, Vampyr gave a short bark, and more owls were flying down in the backyard.
"I read Ernie's book," Ginny went over to peruse the manuscripts. "It was okay. A little vague in places and not always believable. I don't find stories scary when I don't believe the actions of the characters. The one about the guy who kept losing body parts when he ran for help? I mean, really, if you tried it and had a finger fall off, wouldn't you stop trying? Harry showed more sense than that when he was 12 and rescued me from the basilisk."
Snape stiffened at the reminder of Harry's earlier fights against Voldemort.
Ginny wrinkled her nose and grinned wickedly at Harry.
A thrill ran over Harry as he remembered the last time she had looked like that. They had been out in the greenhouse a few months ago and Snape had left to go boil something in a cauldron. Ginny had pulled Harry to a corner of the greenhouse, well-hidden from outside, and ordered, "I want to try something. Can we?"
"Yeah, course," Harry had agreed.
"Put your hands up and hold the beam above you. Don't let go until I tell you."
She had unbuttoned his shirt and started pressed teasing, soft, tickling kisses just under his throat. Harry had clutched the beam and let out long groans as she had kissed down his sternum, letting agony and pleasure mix under her ministrations while he rode the sensations.
"Good boy," she had murmured. "Now, it's my turn."
But there hadn't been time because Snape had come back, and Harry had to help him package seeds while his ears rang and his whole body thrummed with pleasure from the secret of his girlfriend's touches. Sneaking around was half the fun as Ginny liked to hide notes for him to find—shameful notes about the awful things that she wanted to do to him. The times they managed to find a private space to have sex were only heightened by the anticipation of their secret rendezvous.
"Stop it," Ginny whispered at him from across the table. "You're getting that look."
She had teased him about the look he wore whenever he was thinking about her, or about being with her, getting to kiss her, really anything adult with Ginny ever. She had laughed that he was all gazed eyes and drooling, but Harry liked to think he was more in awe of his love from her.
But … raw sexuality or love's purest form – Snape had no tolerance for either or anything in between.
"There are more owls outside," Ginny peered out the window. "Can I go get the packages? I'll get the back ones if Harry wants to get the front."
"Harry's going nowhere!" Snape stormed towards the front door.
A few minutes later, more manuscripts were on the kitchen table, 37 in total.
Without being asked or given permission, Ginny set about ripping open each package, taking out the adjoining letter, and arranging the manuscript stack with the letter in perpendicular stacks of six. Harry helped her gather up the wrapping paper, and Snape sneered for a few minutes before setting about making them breakfast.
"All right," Ginny looked over the stacks. "You got all these books people want you to read. We got loads of pages here, too much for any person to read. Maybe Hermione."
"She could read these," Harry looked up.
"You leave her out of this," Snape growled.
"I get it," Ginny went on, unperturbed by their squabbles. (Harry sometimes forgot that she was the youngest with all those brothers and she wasn't ruffled by people sniping at each other.) "You don't want to read through scary stories, but they might not all be horror. There could be other genres here. Do you want to respond to all the horror with polite no-thank-you notes? That way we could get them done and out of our way the fastest."
"I was thinking we'd just pitch them in the bin," Harry said in a low voice.
He could feel Snape swelling with outrage all the way across the room so he added, "But – um, yes, let's write letters."
"The truth is," Ginny sighed, "you're going to disappoint people no matter what you do. Even if you read all this," she waved her hands over the table, "the stories might be rubbish. You're training as an Auror – do you want to change career focus and be an editor? You fulfilled the prophecy and killed Voldemort. No one will quibble if you change your mind. You could be an editor and just stay here forever, reading scary stories and reviewing them."
Both people in the room pinned him with intense, questioning looks, and Harry shrank back in fear.
Snape was looking thoughtful at the possibility of keeping his son safe at home.
It was all going so horribly, everything spinning out of control, and getting worse by the second, a gigantic mess.
"Ah!" Harry raised a hand to his forehead. "My scar hurts! This is all bringing back awful things I suffered in the battle."
Four minutes later, he was upstairs, being tucked into bed while Snape directed Ginny to pour potions, and pull the curtains over the windows, and for goodness sake, stop being so loud and upsetting Harry!
Ginny poured out a vial of soothing poison and put it to Harry's lips, mouthing, "You're terrible."
He tried to look apologetic, but she went along with Snape's directives, even going out of the room when he directed, following Snape's statement that,
"He's worn down and requires absolutely peace and quiet. I'll bring breakfast to him once he's calmed and had a nap."
"Oh, that sounds good," Ginny's reply came from the hallway as they went to the stairs. "Can I help by taking the dog for a walk? He looked like he could go out."
Harry couldn't hear Snape's answer, but several seconds later, Vampyr was giving happy barks downstairs.
Harry flopped back on the pillow and closed his eyes. Nothing was going his way. He should be out on a walk with Ginny, not their damn dog.
Ah, it was nice to think a curse word even if he couldn't say them.
Harry rolled on his side, trying to figure out if he would rather be stuck in bed all day or be downstairs writing notes of refusal to hopeful writers.
Taunting him, Ernie's book lay on the bedside table, just at his eyeline.
Outside, an owl hit the window with a squawk.
Harry closed his eyes.
Surely, tomorrow had to be better.