A/N: A special thanks to Sansa who is a selfless beta and wonderful friend. Good lord, she catches all of my awful little mistakes! (I seem to have an aversion to question marks). She deserves lots and lots of chocolate and heaps of praise.
Pesky legal disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K.R., her assigns, agents, licensees and all others to whom she grants her wonderful dispensation. Sadly, I am not on that list, nor do ever expect to be. I write this purely for fun and guilty pleasure and make no money from this.
Chapter 5: MEETING The GODFATHER
The school year passed quickly. In an uncharacteristic display of discretion, Dudley kept his word and didn't say anything to his parents about what had happened on the first day of school. Dudley even left Harry alone for the most part—at home and school. Draco and Mrs. Malfoy spent Christmas with relatives, so Harry and Draco didn't see each other for nearly two weeks. The Christmas holidays were always a stressful time in the Dursley household and Harry usually spent more time in his room than not. This holiday was no exception.
Spring term at the Bennington-Bright school was progressing just as well as the fall term had. Draco and Harry were inseparable and Draco's friends treated him as if he were an extension of Draco. No one made moves to become friends with Harry outside of the specter of Draco's friendship, which was due in part to Harry's overwhelming shyness. That was not to say, of course, that he hadn't had many wonderful moments of frivolity and play. He and Pansy Parkinson found a mutual love of Harry's plant picture books. Harry loved them for the plants, Pansy loved them for the flowers—she claimed to be planning her wedding bouquet already. Harry thought this strange beyond measure and wondered if he would ever understand girls. Pansy thought it odd that he liked plants just because they were plants. In her words, "But, Harry. They don't do anything except grow," she'd said in exasperation one day. Harry had nodded in agreement and said that was exactly why he liked them so.
If the other kids in his class found him odd, they didn't comment on it. Just as they didn't comment on the fact that he read books at recess and frequently missed school. According to Draco, Mrs. Lopp had told the class not to bother Harry about missing school or playing at recess—that he was a "special" little boy that couldn't play like the other children. Harry had nearly laughed at that. Yes, he was special all right—his family told him frequently what a little freak he was.
And now, the traditional Easter break was upon them. The Dursleys had decided to take Dudley to the seaside as a treat for passing his classes. No mention had been made of Harry's near perfect marks. Harry didn't care about going to the seaside. He was spending the week with Draco. He couldn't wait.
Two days before the Dursleys were set to leave, Harry started sniffling and sneezing. Aunt Petunia grabbed him and shook him extra hard at the first sound of his sniffles, telling him to stop his sniffles immediately.
"I'll not have you ruining our holiday, you vicious little beast," she'd said as she shook him hard, causing his head to knock into the wall behind him.
He nodded, held in a sneeze, and ran to his room, shutting the door and falling onto his little cot for a long nap.
The morning the Dursleys left for their trip, Harry woke up feeling tired and hot. His sniffles weren't any better and his head hurt.
"Up. UP, Boy," Aunt Petunia snapped as she rapped her sharp knuckles against the door to Harry's room.
Harry groaned and pulled himself from bed, dressed carefully and finished packing his little knapsack. He trudged down the stairs and found the Dursleys waiting for him, sneering at him.
"Mummy, I want to leave, now!" Dudley groused, put out that they weren't already speeding away to the seaside.
"Soon, Diddums, soon. I just have to take the boy over to the Malfoys' and then we'll leave. Perhaps Daddy can buy you a lemon ice before we leave," Petunia soothed, while staring at Harry with accusing eyes.
"But I don't want a lemon ice. I want a choco-chocolate bomb!" Dudley wailed.
"Fine, fine. Let's go Dudders. We'll get you your chocolate and come back for your mum," said Vernon, guiding Dudley to the car and growling at Harry for distressing his son so.
Harry sighed and continued down the stairs. As soon as he'd stepped off the landing, Petunia snatched him by his upper arm and dragged him from the house at breakneck speed. "You mind your manners, boy," she said in a low growl. "Are you still sniffling?"
"Yes, ma'am," Harry said in a stuffy voice.
Petunia sighed. "Must you always be so difficult," she spat. Her bony hand curled tighter around Harry's upper arm as she dragged him up the steps to the Draco's house. She knocked on the door with impatience, biting her lip and darting her beady eyes at Harry.
Moments later the door flew open and Harry nearly fell backwards. He gasped. Instead of Mrs. Malfoy or Draco, there was a tall, scary looking man dressed all in black standing at the door. He was scowling. At Harry's surprised gasp, one aristocratic brow arched in disdain while his arms fell into in an elegant fold. "Can I help you?" he asked in a bored drawl.
Petunia, similarly affected by the man's harsh and imposing demeanor, took a moment to find her voice. "Yes, sorry. I'm Petunia Dursley and this is my nephew, Harry Potter. He is supposed to be staying here for the week. There isn't a problem, I hope?" she asked, the desperation clear in her voice. Petunia refused to take Harry along on the family's seaside holiday.
The man stared at her with his beetle black eyes, before turning his gaze to Harry. When Harry sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand without thinking, the man's face contorted in disgust, causing Petunia to grab Harry roughly and admonish him for such boorish behavior.
"I am Severus Snape, Draco's godfather," the man said, cutting off Petunia's tirade. "Narcissa mentioned that another child would be staying with Draco during the holiday. Unfortunately, she was called away on family business for a few days. I will be looking after the boys during that time."
Harry gulped in fear while Petunia nearly fainted in gratitude. "A pleasure to meet you, sir," she said. "You'll have to excuse Harry. He's an ill-mannered little thing. You're kind to take him."
Severus's eyebrow arched again. "Indeed, Madame? Ill-mannered, you say? My, what could that possibly say about you?" he drawled.
Petunia blinked as she struggled to determine whether she'd just been insulted.
Harry sniffled again, not daring to raise his hand as he had before.
"The boy is sniffling. Why is he sniffling?" Severus asked with asperity.
Petunia shot yet another dark glare at Harry. "Allergies," she ground out, daring Harry to contradict her.
"I see," Severus said. "Well, come in boy, Draco is no doubt nearly beside himself wondering where you are."
"Thank you sir," Harry murmured as he made his way around Severus and ran up the stairs to Draco's room.
"Harry!" Draco cried, as he scrambled to his feet. He was watching a movie, Harry noticed. Sitting and watching a movie, cuddled with a blanket, sounded like a grand idea to Harry.
"What's the movie?" Harry asked, as he sniffled once again.
"Huh? Oh, Aladdin," he said as he grabbed Harry's hand. "Come on! It's been ages since we played outside!"
Harry resisted and pulled his hand away. "No it hasn't," he said a bit sharply. "We built a fort just last week."
Draco turned, his mouth opened in surprise. Harry never contradicted him. "Last week was ages ago," he said, thinking that Harry had simply misunderstood.
"I—I was hoping we could watch the film," Harry said, making a vague gesture towards the frozen image of a blue genie on the telly. "I've always wanted to see, er, Aladdin."
Draco rolled his eyes and huffed. "We can do that later. Come on!" he commanded, grabbing Harry's hand and dragging him down the stairs.
Harry sighed and, like always, went along with what Draco wanted to do. They made it to the kitchen before Severus Snape's dark, menacing voice stopped them in their tracks.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.
Draco stopped mid-stride and turned, pulling Harry around with him.
Severus sat at the kitchen table. He had a number of books open as well as a small tablet in which he'd been jotting notes. Harry thought he saw the vague outlines of a leaf in one of the notes. He stepped forward to get a better look.
Draco, on the other hand, let go a put-upon sigh. "We're going outside, Uncle Severus. To play."
"Where are your jackets? It struck me as rather chilly outside. I'll not be tending to sick little boys who were too dim to wear appropriate attire."
"Fine, fine," Draco said, stomping about in the mudroom, searching for his jacket.
Harry took no notice, his curiosity leading him to puzzle out why Mr. Snape would be drawing pictures of leaves.
"You, boy, where is your jacket?" Severus snapped, a bit unnerved by the staring, scruffy little boy in front of him. When Harry made no indication that he'd heard him, Severus sighed in exasperation and leaned over to touch Harry's shoulder. With a slight tap, he again asked Harry about his jacket.
Startled by the touch, Harry staggered backwards. "Sorry, sir," he said with an upturned lilt at the end, making clear he'd not heard whatever Severus had said.
Severus's gaze narrowed. "What is wrong with you, you daft boy? Skittish as a wild rabbit, you are. And, for the final time, where is your jacket? I don't take kindly to scruffy little boys ignoring me."
Harry sniffled. He raised his hand to wipe his nose and stopped midway at the sight of Severus's thunderous gaze. He quickly dropped his hand and began a short burst of sniffles before Severus sighed in exasperation again, stood abruptly and handed Harry a tissue.
"Sorry, sir," Harry mumbled around the tissue as he blew his nose.
"Well?" Severus said, standing in front of Harry, his arms folded, waiting for an answer.
Harry stood there, his mind racing. His mouth flopped open and closed a few times.
"Your jacket. Where is your jacket?" Severus hissed through clenched teeth.
"Oh! Sorry, sir," Harry said for the third time. "I, er, that is, I don't have—I didn't bring one. And, I don't . . . I don't have a key to the Dursleys' . . . I mean to my house."
Severus stared hard at Harry for several long moments. "Draco," he thundered, causing Harry to gasp and take another step backwards.
Seconds later, Draco popped into the kitchen, wearing a fashionable jacket that fit him perfectly. "Yes, Uncle Severus," he said with a flippancy that would have cost Harry a sound cuff to the side of his head had he talked in such a way to his uncle.
"Your friend has forgotten his jacket. I imagine you have one small enough for him. Go and fetch it. Neither of you will go outside without wearing a jacket, is that clear?"
Draco stared at Harry curiously. "Umm, sure. I'll just go see what's in my closet."
Draco lumbered up the stairs, while Severus returned to his books, paying no further mind to Harry. Minutes passed and still Harry stood while Severus read. Harry desperately wanted to know what Severus was reading. His curiosity got the better of him when he saw Severus drawing a new leaf.
"Sir," he said, taking a few tentative steps forward.
Severus looked up, waiting for Harry to speak further. When Harry said nothing else, Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you've something to ask, get on with it."
Harry nodded and stepped closer, licking his lips nervously. "I was just wondering, sir. Why are you drawing a picture of a leaf?"
Severus stared at Harry, his gaze calculating. In an abrupt motion (which, Harry was beginning to think were the only kinds of motions Severus Snape made) he turned the drawing towards Harry. "What does this look like to you?"
Harry moved closer and studied the picture. It looked like a leaf he'd seen before. In his picture books at school. "It—it looks like a maple tree leaf. Sir," he added hastily.
"Yes, yes. A maple tree leaf. Points for you," Severus derided, "but what kind of maple?" he asked. His expression was smug. If his students didn't know, then neither would Harry. That failure, of course, would allow Severus to dress him down and permit him a measure of peace and quiet.
Harry hesitated and shot a wary glance at Severus before answering. "It, uh, it looks like an American maple, sir," he whispered.
Severus snatched back the drawing and drew it close to his face before blinking and staring at Harry, his face riddled with incredulity. "How did you know that?" he snapped, his eyes roving over his open books wondering if the answer was on any of the pages.
Harry stepped back. "I'm not allowed to play at recess. I—I like plants and things. I have a special book with lots of plant pictures. I just remember seeing that one. That's all."
Severus regarded the little boy in front him with keener interest. He dissected him as he would one of his saplings. Perhaps this was one of the few children who weren't worthless, vapid cretins. "What do you know of plants, boy? And, why aren't you permitted to play at recess?"
"I—I work in the garden, at home, I mean. I'm responsible for tending to the plants. And recess, I, uh, I get sick a lot and, . . . I get sick a lot," he said, not sure how to answer the strange man's questions.
Draco appeared just then, saving Harry from any more interrogation. "Here. This should fit," he said thrusting a jacket into Harry's hands. "We're going outside now, Uncle Severus."
"Be careful," Severus said, while glancing at Harry. "No roughhousing or running."
Draco rolled his eyes and tugged Harry's hand, pulling him outside.
For the fourth time in the past three hours, Severus was staring out the back door, watching his godson and his little friend, Harry, play. They were playing some sort of game that involved kicking a ball back and forth. Severus saw no utility in it, but he felt that way about most games. The boy, Harry, was looking peaky in Severus's opinion. He was breathing hard, his face was flushed and he seemed far less enthusiastic in his game playing than Draco.
"Come on, Harry! You're not even trying," Draco lamented as the ball slipped past Harry's sluggish foot once again.
A cross look fixed itself on Harry's face and he opened his mouth to say something scathing, of that Severus was sure. Deciding warring little boys was not something he wanted to wrestle with, Severus decided a rest break was in order.
"Put that ridiculous ball away," he muttered to Draco as he strode out in the backyard and pretended to be fascinated by Narcissa's overflowing heaps of thistle.
Draco made a noise of frustration, but trotted after the ball nonetheless.
"Come here, boy," Severus said to Harry as he watched Draco get caught up playing by himself for a bit. Severus meant what he'd said earlier. He'd no intention of playing nursemaid to sickly little boys—especially those he didn't know. No, he would nip this overexertion in the bud and talk with the little boy.
Harry sniffled and pushed his sweaty hair back from his forehead. His steps were sluggish as he made his way over to Severus. He stopped several feet away.
Severus bent down and pulled out a small pocketknife. He cut several of the thistles and made a show of staring at each of them, as if trying to puzzle out their secrets. He felt Harry come closer, though the noise from his wheezing would have been enough to alert the hounds down the street. After several long moments, Harry spoke.
"That's thistle, sir," Harry murmured, not sure of anything else to say.
Severus resisted the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes and snap at the boy that he was well aware that he held thistle in his hands. He'd wanted the boy to talk first, after all. So instead, he eyed the boy and said, "Cirsium lecontei."
"What?" Harry said, creeping closer.
"Cirsium lecontei is the proper name for this particular thistle."
"Oh," Harry said, not sure exactly what Mr. Snape had just said. "Cirs—cirs-u-mum la-cor-te," he stammered, trying to copy the words Mr. Snape used.
"No, no, no! Cir-si-um le-con-tei," he pronounced again for Harry.
"Cir-si-um le-cort, sorry, le-con-tei," Harry murmured, staring transfixed at the thistle.
"Better," Severus said as he sat on the ground and motioned for Harry to do the same.
Harry sniffled again and was surprised when a tissue was thrust at him. "Thank you, sir."
"How can you tend to plants with these awful allergies of yours, boy?"
This was the third time Harry had heard the 'allergy' word, and he still wasn't sure what it meant. He shrugged and sought to redirect Mr. Snape's attention. "Why not just call it thistle, sir? Why the funny words?"
"Funny words? Funny words?" Severus repeated, aghast. "Those aren't funny words, boy, I was speaking in Latin." Severus peered down at Harry causing Harry to shrink back. "What are they teaching you at that school?" he muttered.
Harry gulped and nodded, hesitated, shook his head, and then bore the hopeless look of confusion that only Mr. Snape could cause.
Severus shoved one of the thistle stems into Harry's hand. "There are many, many kinds of thistle. The Latin, or 'funny words' as you so disrespectfully called them, make up this particular thistle's botanical name."
Harry cocked his head to the side and let his little mouth flop open. He had no idea what Mr. Snape was talking about.
Severus sighed and tugged at his hair in irritation. "Tell me, boy, how would you tell the difference between this thistle and another?"
"Oh! That's easy," Harry said. "This is pink thistle. I've seen purple and white and--"
"Precisely!" Severus said triumphantly.
"Huh?" Harry asked.
"You know that this thistle is different from other kinds of thistle, correct?"
Harry nodded.
"We can't just go around calling all thistle, thistle. We have to be able to tell the difference. Botanical names let us do that."
Harry nodded again and stared hard at his thistle. "Why not just call it pink thistle, then?"
Severus's lips pursed in a thin, unforgiving line. "Because," he said through clenched teeth, beginning to change his opinion of the boy's intelligence.
Harry thought about that for a minute. It made sense, he thought. He rather liked that the plants had special names. Special secret names. "Okay," he said, accepting Severus's "Because." "What's that there, then?" he said, pointing to the privet hedge separating the Dursleys' backyard from Draco's.
Severus turned and stared at the Japanese privet hedge. Perhaps there was hope for the boy after all. "Ligustrum japonicum," he said with a slight flourish.
Harry giggled. These words were more fun that variegated pittosporum. "Ligus—ligus-trum ja-pon-i-cum," he said, exaggerating each syllable.
"Passable," Severus said.
Draco was beginning to make his way back over. He was scowling, Severus noted, looking as though Severus had taken away his favorite plaything. And, in a sense, Severus had. If Narcissa was to be believed, anyway. "If you'd like, I can show you some other things later, but I think Draco would like to play some more."
Harry beamed. "I'd like that, sir," he said in a soft, respectful voice.
Severus nearly smiled, but stopped himself just in time.