Hello. I would apologize for my late posting but since I do so almost every chapter and is quickly losing its potency as a proper apology. Honestly, every week I promise myself that I am going to continue this story at a constant rate. Then I wake up a week later with nothing but dust. I could blame my busy life . . . but meh. Thank you for sticking with me regardless.
I promise next chapter we will start the plot. Swear down. Until then, enjoy. I put in another (two) book recommendations (another? Yes another. What do expect from a writer who owns over a 150 books?). I do quote one of the books, I don't own it and all that stuff I'm supposed to say but never do.
Until next time.
O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O
Alex opened the liquor cabinet with his usual flourish. His fingers tapped a dance against the cooler glass. They traced the labels as he tried to discern what the taste that rested on his tongue was and which bottle would match it. With a small snap he grabbed a bottle of amber liquid and pulled it from its space on the shelf.
"I wouldn't." Severus said, entering the room with a cup of tea to go sit in the couch. It had turned dark hours ago and the tall man was illuminated by the only light in the room, giving him an eerie yet regal look. They were alone, Harry sent off to bed at ten with only a token complaint.
"And why not?" Alex asked, bottle frozen between his chest and the cabinet. He glanced at the man, who was ignoring him to search for the remote to the television. Their television had been one of the hardest things to put in the house.
Magic had a difficult time with anything that ran on electricity. Electricity always took the path of least resistance. Magic, in its most basic form, is pure energy which creates an easy path for electricity to follow. After the magic hit its intended target it would disperse, leaving an infinite amount of infinitesimal trails for the electrons to follow that weren't inside whatever electrical device it was supposed to be in. Whenever you turned on an electrical device in an area full of magic it would just fizz out, instantly losing its energy to the immeasurable amount of magical pockets. Sturdy, well insulated pieces of tech could withstand it a little, trapping the electricity within itself to a certain degree, but never long and not in areas with magic flying around. However, Alex didn't move to a muggle neighborhood to not have any muggle technology.
In the end Severus had created a potion that created a barrier for magic to be painted on whatever they were trying to protect, keeping the telly as insulated as possible. It was an older model so not as finicky and high tech as the newer models, which is why the magic barrier actually prevented it from burning out. And even then, they had to be sure not to use magic within two meters of the machine or it would short out for a day.
"Because we now have an emotionally unstable abuse victim who's abusers, at least one or two, were alcoholics. So for the time being, drinking is not advised." Snape purred, saluting him with his cup as he groaned. With a slump he placed the bottle back.
"Surely it would be okay here? I am hardly his uncle." Alex reasoned. He dropped down onto the couch and slung his thighs across Sev's lap, barely missing the teacup with his whirlwind limbs.
"Perhaps he would be able to reason it. However, subconsciously? The mind is a powerful thing and something as simple as smell can bring uneasiness. He may trust us, to an extent, but I am no fool. He had trusted before and been hurt by that. No matter how hard he tries he will be judging us, and watching us. He will not be able to trust us completely and as a result anything that may indicate similar problems to his last home, no matter how small or incongruous that it may seem to us, will no doubt become a large problem to him."
"Okay fine, no drinking then." Alex sighed, sinking down into the cushions and flexing his toes.
"It would hardly kill you to stop drinking. Perhaps it would be beneficial to you." Severus swatted as his foot as it was dug into his side.
"That's something you have no right to say. Your soap box is poorly made at best." Alex griped. "Well, anything else I need to be warned about?"
"You are going to have to be careful about him helping out." Severus warned, lifting the remote to change the channel.
"What do you mean?" The telly flickered as it flashed through cooking shows, panel shows and the periodic news channel.
"In his last home he was frequently ordered to work as payment for the ability to live there and be given the basic necessities for life. In school he is told that he has to perform scholastically to stay. As such there is a chance that he will feel the need to 'pay back' whatever is given to him. Especially after your large shopping trip. This, of course, is a way of thinking that we do not want to foster. He will be given chores, but strictly controlled and heavily explained why he had been given them and that he will still be given all the necessities to survive regardless.
"There is a good chance that he will either offer incessantly or even try to do the work himself. Occasionally accepting his offer is fine but everything else should be watched with a careful eye."
"You have thought this through." Alex hummed. He chuckled at the glare that was shot at him. "Is that it?"
"For now. I'm sure there will be more that comes up. This is not a normal house guest like your aunt. You can't just feed him, ply him with alcohol and hope that he goes to bed before he starts a family fight. The boy will need a sharp eye and a steady hand. Structure will need to be set and prevention methods put in place to prevent trouble."
"Well that's why I have you to guide me." Alex purred. "What would I do without you?"
"No doubt you would end up destroying half the block and ruin the lives of hundreds of the next generation." He stood up suddenly, forcing Alex to do a barrel roll as he fell off the couch and onto the floor. He stepped over the groaning lawyer, his normal flourish missing without his robe.
"I hate you!" Alex yelled as Severus started to climb the stairs.
"I am very well aware." A deep voice rumbled back.
O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O
Life in the Snape-Dawsen household was easy to fall into. The next day after the shopping trip Alex returned to work, leaving a few minutes before eight through the emerald fire as he was going to every week day from now on. The rest of the day fell into a vague schedule that Snape had laid out.
Harry woke every morning just as breakfast is finished cooking. He had tried to wake up early enough to do some of the cooking himself and found himself quite unsuccessful. It was as if Alex had read his mind because when Harry had managed to sneak down the stairs the man was already in the kitchen, cooking with a wicked, knowing smile. They would eat together, normally after Snape been dragged out of bed.
"I swear that man could sleep through a bloody coup." Alex would grumble with a fond smile. "It's like he never sleeps during the year and just decided to hibernate in the summer." Harry pondered how many near misses he had when Snape was patrolling the halls after hours. Silently he thought that was probably exactly what he did.
After breakfast Harry did his chores. Though they were hardly chores by his metric. He was responsible for keeping his own room clean, after being informed that 'you are now at the age where you will be getting things of worth and you need to learn to care for them properly.'. Though it was hardly more than picking up the few items of clothing, hanging up laundry and tossing dirty clothes into a basket. He was also responsible for loading the dishwasher after breakfast, but not for dinner or lunch. After he did that he had to do his schoolwork, a minimum of an hour. Typically he would sit at the dining room table and work on the essays given to him due on the first day of classes. Snape was normally there as well, shuffling through a large stack of manila files which he told Harry had personal information of his students which 'are heavily charmed to make snoops understand clearly not to be too nosy' which he said with a knowing look. Harry had blushed a little ashamed because there had been the large swelling of curiosity that normally got him in trouble.
After school work Snape went to his personal lab and worked. Harry got to work with him, something he actually enjoyed doing. Snape's personal lab was amazing. The floor was a dark hardwood and the walls painted a rich red. Books covered the three bookshelves, bookshelves seemed to be the major theme of the house, and on the shelves were knick-knacks that fascinated Harry. There was a gold dagger with rubies laid into the handle, the handle shaped like a roaring dragon ("Not to be touched unless you plan on cutting banshee heart Potter. Should be a simple enough rule to follow, even for you"). There was a large jar filled with sand, when it was turned you could see the rainbow shimmer of an opal scorpion as it scrambled to stay complete covered. There was a golden clockwork bird that sat on Snapes desk. It would stay completely still except when one of the ingredients was beginning to rot it would flutter over to the jar and twitter until it was dealt with. There was a vase with stems that bloomed into flowers the closer you got, withering as you stepped away.
Harry's favorite was a small silver ball that rested on a pillow. It glimmered prettily as you picked it up, not more than two inches across. If you held it for more than thirty seconds it melted into a puddle. It would flow down your hand and arm, warping and wrapping around your limbs, flowing like water but never falling off the skin onto the floor. Despite the liquid form the actual liquid was as cold as ice, raising goose flesh as it trailed across the skin. To form it back into a ball you had to collect the mercurial liquid into your palms and then drop it, moving your hands away as quickly. By the time it hit the floor it was a solid metal ball again.
There were cauldrons that lined the walls of a dozen different sizes and material types. Some so large that Harry could bathe in one, or get cooked he would think imagining himself being boiled with carrots and onions in a humorously morbid daydream. The desk in the corner was much like Snapes' desk at school, covered in more paper and parchment than seeming possible. Though Harry noted the presence of muggle pens, highlighters and notepads. There were two preparation tables and on the far wall was the ingredients. Most of the dry ingredients that didn't need any type of preservation were in a large chest of drawers that went from the floor to ceiling, each little drawer labeled with familiar spiky handwriting and all bigger on the inside than on the outside. The wet and all other ingredients were stored in jars on the shelves that stood by the chest. Snape had been quite serious about warning him away from browsing unsupervised. Many of the ingredients were not available in the school stocks for very good reasons (Read; students should never, ever, be trusted to not be stupid).
Harry would help out in the lab almost every day. For the most part he would prepare the ingredients, something he really didn't mind doing. Sometimes Snape would wander by and critique he skills, showing him the proper way to do a certain cut or grinding method. Snape was making a new potion he would narrate what he was doing and why it was important.
"The important part is to grind the beetles and then use asp venom to make a paste. The fool who wrote you're textbook, and just about every other potions master, would tell you to cut the beetles and drop in the venom. But if you want to introduce a solid into a liquid such as this without clumping it is really asinine to just drop everything in as chunks." Maybe not narrate so much as berate his fellow potions masters and bemoan the state of the science. Though it commonly included an explanation and Harry enjoyed the little lectures.
Harry had always enjoyed learning. As a child he was like a sponge, eager to soak up everything he came into contact with. Though years of school and other . . . pressing issues had dampened his love for school but never his love for learning. So in class he would commonly drift off, forget to take notes, or goof off. This was dynamic and intriguing. Perhaps the lesson plan wasn't as linear or as technical as in a traditional class. Still he felt that he was learning so much and he couldn't ignore the warmth and pride when he learned something new and was able to apply it and prove that he was understanding the theory instead of just memorizing it like a parrot.
Lab work would be interrupted for lunch. Normally lunch was nothing more than leftovers from the night before, though an occasional sandwich would take its turn. They would work in the lab until Alex returned home or until there was something that was more pressing.
Dinner was always cooked by Snape and they always ate it together. Because of that dinner was never a set time. It was whenever Alex got home and was able to strip himself out of his dress robes and into his casual clothes. After they ate they would drift into the living room to do whatever. Sometimes they would watch TV. Watch panel shows and laugh loudly, though Harry wasn't quite up to date with modern politics so he felt like there was a lot that he was missing. Sometimes they watched documentaries, sometimes Doctor Who, and sometimes the news (though Harry wasn't a big fan of that).
Some nights they read. Harry found a large selection of muggle and wizarding books alike. When Harry commented that Draco enjoyed muggle literature Alex snorted.
"Who do you think introduced it to him? Certainly wasn't going to be his mother and father."
Alex was currently reading "The Illustrated Man". It was taking him days to read it because he could have to put the book down every twenty minutes and moan dramatically about how horribly wonderful it was.
"What's it about?" Harry asked, still at the shelf looking for something to read himself. It been the third time that night that the lawyer had groaned and bemoaned about the book.
"It's a collection of short stories set in a framework of a man whose tattoos come alive and tell stories. A group of science fiction, fantasy existential crises and mind fucks. OW!" He yelped when a stinging hex hit him.
"Language." Snape intoned, never looking up for his book which was some large textbook.
Alex had grumbled but returned to his story. Harry snorted in laughter and returned to the books with a hidden smile. The book he ended up pulling off the shelf was Catch-22. It was a weird book with seemingly no plot to speak of yet still seemed to flow along some sort of story line. Different stories are told in an out of sequence timeline. Characters are described in the most obscure non-traditional ways, yet paint a perfect picture of each person it was addressing. The book is an illogical mess that seems to make perfect sense. Considering its title, Harry would have been surprised if it had been any other way.
In particular Harry loved the character Yossarian. He would speak in circles, generally frustrating most of the people he talked to, and yet he was still generally liked by many others. Many times Harry would burst out laughing whenever the man spoke. The man, like the title, was a contradiction. He was likeable and enjoyable to read and at the same time a bit of a dick and difficult. Often he would get into circular conversation with others and argue with them for seemingly no reason, and yet he often did it with characters you weren't fond of so it was fun regardless.
"Who's they?" He wanted to know. "Who, specifically, do you think is trying to murder you?"
"Every one of them," Yossarian told him.
"Every one of whom?"
"Every one of whom do you think?"
"I haven't any idea."
"Then how do you know they aren't?"
"Because..." Clevinger sputtered, and turned speechless with frustration.
Clevinger really thought he was right, but Yossarian had proof, because strangers he didn't know shot at him with cannons every time he flew up into the air to drop bombs on them, and it wasn't funny at all."
It also helped that Harry could sympathize with the feeling that everyone was trying to kill you, even the people supposed to be on your side. All in all, Harry found it to be a wonderful yet frustrating book.
Bed time was ten thirty every night. Harry had initially protested this but was quickly shut down. Snape had told him, in no uncertain terms, that sleep was essential and heavily enforced. He went on a long tirade on how the health of the mind and body deteriorated with lack of sleep. How the body rebuilt itself and stored memories while asleep. He went down an exhaustive list of reasons until Harry agreed to bed time just to finish the lecture.
Contented he would slip into bed, comfortable and calm for the first time in his life. But as with everything in his life it wasn't going to last.