A/N: This chapter has not been beta'ed. Please forgive any mistakes—they were unintentional.
Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and to all those whom she has licensed that world. I'm not on that list. I make no money from this, nor do I wish to.
Chapter 11:REAPING WHAT WAS SOWN"Why are we doing this again?" Draco asked as he ducked his head low, not wanting to be seen riding in the rickety old pallet lorry.
"Your mother wishes to replant the garden. I am staying with you for several weeks while my chambers at school are refurbished. I intend to see that this replanting is done properly and need assistance. You haven't left the house in days and have been moping about the entire time, or so I'm led to believe. Oh, yes, and I so enjoy making your dour mood swings even more worrisome. That about cover it?" Severus drawled as he drove to the local nursery.
Draco crossed his arms and muttered something obscene under his breath while he looked out the window. His godfather had been with them for all of two days and had already rankled Draco with pestering questions about his surly mood.
"Want to talk about it?" Severus asked.
"Not likely," Draco scoffed.
"Too bad. You're giving your mother fits with this attitude of yours and I'll not have Narcissa whinging at me day in and out about what's wrong with you."
Draco huffed and clucked his tongue. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to tell his godfather that he couldn't stop thinking about Harry? That would go over well.
"Is it a girl?" Severus asked.
Draco snorted at how discomfited his godfather sounded asking such a question. "No, it's not a girl," Draco murmured.
"Ah. . . . well . . . a boy then?" Severus said with hesitation.
Draco laughed. "No. At least not like that," he hastened to add.
They drove in silence for a bit longer. Draco was struck by the incongruity of his elegant godfather driving such a low-class lorry. "Why do we have to pick up the plants? Mum always has them delivered." Draco wrinkled his nose and shifted in his seat. "It smells in here," he murmured under his breath.
Ignoring Draco's complaints, Severus said, "And that is precisely why we are picking everything out and delivering it ourselves. Those nursery lads are always bruising the plants."
Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. At least he'd be able to forget about Harry for a little while.
"Narcissa mentioned that you visited an old friend the other day."
Or not. Draco felt the needle-sharp prick of pain at the reminder of his disastrous visit with Harry. He hid it behind a mask of indifference and shrugged. "Yeah. Went through some old stuff. Thought it might be nice to say hello."
"She seemed to think it didn't go well."
Fuck, Draco thought to himself, he goes straight for the target, that one. Draco shrugged again. "He was different."
"I would imagine so—nearly four years have passed."
Draco nodded in response, biting his tongue to keep from saying anything more. Yes, Harry was different and yes, part of it was because he was older. But there was more to it. Draco was sure.
"Ah, here we are," Severus said as he pulled the lorry into the nursery's car park.
"Bloody brilliant," Draco muttered under his breath as he climbed out of the lorry and dawdled after Severus.
"The proprietor, please," Severus snapped at a hapless young man who appeared to be all of twenty.
The young man—John, his employee tag read—looked Severus up and down, turned his gaze to Draco and shook his head. "Mr. Wells!" John bellowed over his shoulder before returning to weeding a permanent garden demonstration area in the front of the nursery.
Seconds later a small, crotchety man approached them. "I've told you not to disturb me! What is it? What can't you do without assistance now?" he asked in efficient clipped tones.
Unfazed by his employer's brisk manner, John gestured towards Severus and Draco. "They asked for you," he said before returning to his work.
A noise of frustration escaped Mr. Wells' throat. "What? What do you want?" he snapped at Severus and Draco.
Draco nearly laughed. This was Uncle Severus in thirty years. Shooting a glance at his godfather, it was obvious that he'd missed the striking similarity.
"I require your assistance, sir," Severus began. "I have quite a large order to fill and find it easier to work with the proprietor. However, if you'd rather, I can certainly take my business elsewhere."
Mr. Wells didn't blink an eye at the threat. He flapped his hands in the air and said, "Fine, fine. What are you looking for? I suppose you'll want to inspect everything?"
"Yes, of course," Severus said as he withdrew his small journal from his pocket and began thumbing through it. "Ah, yes. I'd like to start with the foundation shrubbery, then move onto small specimen trees before moving to borders and annuals.
Mr. Wells sighed irritably and flapped his hands again. "Get on with it then," he croaked.
Severus's lips pursed a thin, prim line, which Draco found very, very funny.
"Let us begin with your finest buxus microphylla, ligustrum sinense, leea coccinea--"
"Stop, STOP," Mr. Wells bellowed. He looked Severus up and down before spitting on the ground absently. "You're one of those uppity blokes, aren't ya? Fine. Fine. I've got no use for all of those fancy names. Either call 'em by their commons or you'll have to work with the kid—he's the only one 'round here who follows that stuff."
Severus huffed. "The kid, then," he said through clenched teeth.
Mr. Wells harrumphed. "Just as well—I've not the patience for the likes of you." He turned to John who was pretending not to eavesdrop while weeding the ornamental bed. "John, get the kid," Wells said before turning back to Severus. "He'll be along in a jiff. He'll know your fancy names," he said before ambling off without so much as a goodbye.
Severus scoffed at the shoddy treatment. "How does your mother stand this place?" Severus whispered.
Draco shrugged, trying to keep his sniggering under control. He always thought it pompous that his godfather insisted on using the botanical names—the full botanical names—when outside of his classroom. He turned and walked towards a small vine with orange flowers and watched it sway in the breeze.
"Can I help you?" a soft tenor voice called.
Draco turned, startled that he knew the voice. It was Harry. He stood there, in a dirty tee-shirt and baggy jeans, his face flushed from exertion, his hands covered in worn gardener's gloves. There was a swipe of dirt high across his cheekbone where Draco had seen the bruise just days before. "Harry," Draco blurted.
Harry's genial smile faltered as his gaze shot to Draco and then to the man standing in front of him. It was Mr. Snape. How could he have forgotten? Harry hesitated for a second. He thought about turning tail and leaving them in the hapless care of John. 'No,' he thought to himself. 'This is my territory, not theirs.' he said to himself before withdrawing one hand from its glove and offering it to Severus. "Mr. Snape. It's been a long time," he murmured. His raised his eyes to Draco for a brief moment. "Draco," he said with a head nod.
"Mr. Potter," Severus said, taking Harry's hand in his. "I take it you are the 'kid' your employer referred to," he said with a sneer.
Harry chuckled. Something about Mr. Snape always put him at ease. As quickly as Draco could cause his anger to roil through him, Mr. Snape could calm him. "Yeah, I suppose I am. What can I help you with?" he asked, not wanting to make small talk.
Severus's brow arched in challenge. "As I asked that abominable little man, I'd like to see your finest buxus microphylla, ligustrum sinense, leea coccinea, and llex opaca to start with."
Harry hesitated. Never taking his eyes from Severus's he called for John. When John trotted over, Harry flashed a quick grin in Severus's direction. "I need a littleleaf boxwood, a Chinese privet, a small west Indian holly and . . . uh, an American holly. Get them from the back," he said.
John nodded and trotted to the back.
"I'm impressed, Mr. Potter," Severus said. "But, then again, those are awfully common, now aren't they? In fact, the ligustrum sinense is nearly a household name in and of itself."
"If you say so, sir," Harry said with a small chuckle and a hint of sparkle in his eyes.
Draco was seething while he watched this exchange. Why didn't Harry smile at him that way? Why could Harry talk so easily with his godfather, but not him?
John returned with the requested plants and Severus made quite a show of looking over them carefully, asking about watering and fertilizing conditions. Harry answered all of his questions, his gaze drifting towards Draco every so often.
"I'll take ten of these, fifteen—no twenty of these, and twelve of these," Severus said, pointing to the boxwood, west Indian holly, and Chinese privet, respectively.
John nodded. "We have free delivery sir," he said.
"No," Severus sneered. I've brought my own lorry. We'll load them ourselves, I think. With Mr. Potter's able assistance, of course."
Harry nodded and looked down. "Anything else, sir? Shall I send John to gather everything?"
"No. I think I should like to see a prunus Americana, prunus serrulata and an acer palmatum."
"John," Harry called, "see if we have any more American plums, will you? I know the Japanese cherries came in last week—the flowering ones, mind you." Harry hesitated and turned back to Severus. "As for the acer, er, Japanese maple," Harry said for John's benefit, "you didn't specify which kind. We have a rather brilliant Atropurpureum—that's the red one, John—if you're interested. Sir."
Severus's brow arched. "That would be acceptable."
Harry grinned. "Anything else, sir? What? No pink thistle?"
"No," Severus said with a grin. "Not today, Mr. Potter."
Harry nodded to John, who left to find the specimen trees Severus wanted to see.
"I see you took my instruction to heart," Severus said.
Harry nodded. His gaze darted to Draco. "It was all those primers. They, uh, they really helped. I still have my Parkinson," he added.
Severus nodded. He looked over at his godson who pretended to be fascinated by a flowering vine. He'd long ago figured out that Harry was the friend Draco had gone to see. Though, for the life of him, he couldn't understand why things had gone so disastrously. At least, Draco seemed to think they had.
"How are your classes? Still at Bennington-Bright?" Severus asked in an effort to find out what had happened. He was surprised to see Harry's expression shutter closed at the question.
"No sir," Harry murmured. "My cousin—he boards now—and it was, I mean, the local private secondary was closer. I can walk there," Harry stammered. Good lord, as quickly as the man could calm him, he could turn him into a flustered mess.
"I see," Severus said slowly. "You aren't looking any worse for the wear, I suppose," he said as he scrutinized Harry's scrawny frame and wild hair. Severus tsked at the dirt on Harry's face. "Really, though, Mr. Potter, one would think you'd clean up your face now and then. I know you work at a nursery, but you simply must have standards," he said as he reached out with a handkerchief to wipe Harry's face.
Harry ducked away from the hand. "No, it's okay. Really," he said, but he wasn't fast enough. He winced as the cloth dragged across his skin. He knew the second the handkerchief stopped that Mr. Snape had seen the remnants of the bruise. A large hand curled around his chin and forced his head up and to the side.
"What happened here," Severus murmured as he twisted Harry's head this way and that to better examine the bruise.
Harry stiffened for a moment before relaxing into his "chagrined" persona. He chuckled. "Nothing, really. Except that I'm clumsy. Stepped on a gardening hoe while working out back. It snapped up and caught me right across the cheek."
Draco, who had been pretending not to listen, turned sharply at that. "You told me you fell," he said.
Severus, who still had his hand on Harry's chin, turned to Draco. "What did you say?"
"He told me he fell. I saw that bruise the other day. His lip was split as well. He said he fell," Draco repeated as he walked closer.
Harry shook himself loose and swallowed. He cursed himself for not being careful. He didn't think Draco was paying attention and, honestly, he'd forgotten what he'd told him the other day. That whole visit was a blur of fire and spit. "Well yeah, I fell after that stupid hoe nearly knocked me funny," he lied smoothly. He added a self-deprecating laugh for good measure. "I'm always doing stuff like that. It's a wonder I've not lost a limb or something."
Draco started to say he didn't believe Harry, but a cutting glance from Severus quieted him.
"Of course," Severus said smoothly. "Hazards of the job, I suppose. Tell me, Harry, how are you aunt and uncle these days?"
Harry was startled by the sudden topic change and his face and body language showed it. "Why—why would you ask about them, sir?" he blurted, wondering if he'd given anything away.
Severus shrugged. "Just making conversation."
Harry licked his lips and ran his hands through his hair. "They're fine. All fine. We're all fine." Harry twisted around to see what was taking John so long. "I'm going to check on John. Sorry for the wait."
"No matter. We can look at trees tomorrow. I think I'll just settle up for the shrubbery today, if you don't mind. Will you be here tomorrow, Harry? Can we count on your assistance again?"
"Um . . . yeah. Sure," he said. "I'll, uh, I'll be back."
When Harry was gone Draco marched up to Severus. "He told me he fell!" he hissed.
Severus held up a hand, telling Draco to stop. "This is not the time or place, but I think you and I need to have a little chat about a few things."
Draco nodded slowly, wondering what was going on.
A few minutes later, a nervous Harry and an oblivious John came round with the carts of shrubs Severus was buying. Severus made a huge show of inspecting all of them, asking Harry questions the whole time. To Draco, it seemed like Harry was getting more and more flustered the longer the conversation went on.
"These will do," Severus announced at the end. "Help us load them, Harry?"
Harry shot a look at the ground and bit his lip. Draco was suddenly struck by how much Harry looked like his seven-year-old counterpart in that moment.
"Um," Harry began, "I've got some things to do. John is really much better at this sort of thing."
"Nonsense," Severus said. "John can take care of your 'things,' can't you John?"
"Uh, yeah," John said, making a quick retreat.
Harry's eyes shot daggers at John's retreating back before sighing and returning his attention to Severus and Harry. "Let's get started, then," he murmured.
It took the better part of thirty minutes before they were close to being done. By then Harry, Draco, and Severus were hot and sweaty.
"Well, sir, that's the last," Harry said as he heaved the final boxwood onto the back of the lorry. He scratched his arm without thinking, making his sleeve rise, revealing a ring of dark purple bruises.
Draco couldn't help it. He gasped.
Harry's head snapped around at the sound. He followed Draco's line of sight. His face drained of color. The three stood there for several moments, no one saying anything.
"It's not what you think," Harry blurted.
"Tell us, then. Exactly what is it?" Severus said as he pulled Harry's sleeve further up and examined the ring of bruises. He had a good idea what had caused those bruises. The truth of it made his stomach turn. He continued on, determined to get to the bottom of things. "Because to me it looks as though a rather large hand, say an adult's hand, wrapped around your arm and squeezed for all it was worth. Of course, I've been known to be wrong. Perhaps this ring of bruises, suspiciously shaped like fingers mind you, is the result of a bizarre nursery accident as well?"
"It's funny that you should mention that. You see--" Harry began before he was cut off.
"Do not lie to me," Severus hissed as he leaned forward wondering how far he could push Harry. How dare the boy try and tell such ridiculous stories. Severus ignored the little voice that asked why he cared. What was it about this boy that rankled him so? What was it about this boy that clawed caring and empathy from him, both rather foreign emotions to Snape except where Draco and Cissa were concerned?
"I don't owe you any explanations," Harry snarled. His saw Draco standing off to the side. "Either of you," he said before returning his gaze to Mr. Snape.
Severus raised his eyebrow in examination. "My, my, my, Mr. Potter. Not so polite when the questions hit a little too close to home, are we?"
Harry fumed. "You've got your plants. Have a nice day," he said tersely as he turned to leave.
"Perhaps I should just ask your aunt and uncle?" Severus querried. Harry looked as though he'd been hit with some sort of petrifying spell at those words. Severus had his answer.
Harry sighed and turned back to face Mr. Snape. He wasn't going to let this go. Harry couldn't risk a surprise visit from Mr. Snape to his aunt and uncle. "I get in a lot of fights. Hot temper and all that," he said. "Draco saw that the other day, I think," Harry said, shooting a glance at Draco.
"Are you asking me to believe you're some kind of bully, Mr. Potter?" Severus asked.
Harry shook his head and laughed, though it was a hollow, poisonous sound. "I said I get into fights—I didn't say I started them." It was as close to the truth as Harry was willing to go.
Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Harry," he said, intending to say more, but Draco cut him off.
"We don't believe you," he spat. "Something's happening to you. What is it? What the bloody hell is going on?" Draco asked, as if he were still Harry's best friend; he asked as if he'd not been absent from Harry's life for four years.
Harry refused to look at either of them. "I told you what's happening. Sorry if you don't believe me. Look, I've really got to go. Leave your list of names with John tomorrow—I'll translate," he said before walking away from them, not looking back.
"Uncle Severus!" Draco said. "You don't believe that tripe, do you? Someone is hurting him. Maybe a bully at school, or something. We need to tell his family."
Severus looked at his godson and sighed. Sometimes, for as smart as he was, Draco could be incredibly dim. "Draco, why don't you tell me all about your visit with Mr. Potter the other day."
"You'll never guess who Draco and I saw at the nursery this afternoon, Cissa," Severus said as he gestured for Draco to pass him the bowl of new peas.
"Who?" Narcissa asked as she cut a small bite from her veal chop.
"Harry," Draco interjected as he passed the peas and helped himself to the potato dish. "Is there blue cheese in this?" he asked, his nose wrinkling.
"Yes, and who did you see Severus?" Narcissas answered in response to both questions.
Severus's hand stilled as he looked at Narcissa, his eyes glittering. "You heard me," he said in a near whisper.
"He still has that bruise I told you about, Mum, and there were more around his arm. Like someone had yanked him hard or something," Draco said as he took a measured spoonful of potatoes.
Narcissa's knife clattered to the plate. She muttered an apology before taking it up again. "Is that so," she said. "Poor boy. Always getting in accidents," she said, staring directly at Severus.
Severus returned Narcissa's gaze with his own measured stare. "Perhaps. Nevertheless, Draco and I have our suspicions that something else is afoot. You know all about suspicions don't you Narcissa?" he asked, one eyebrow quirked.
"Yeah. I think he's being bullied by someone at school or in the neighborhood," Draco said darkly. "I tried to convince Uncle Severus that we needed to tell his family straight away, but he said no. What do you think, Mum?"
Narcissa laid her silverware down and gulped her wine. "I think your godfather is right, Draco," she said at long last.
Draco deflated a bit. "Fine," he said under his breath.
Severus cut his gaze over to Draco. "Nevertheless, Draco, why don't you tell your mother what you told me this afternoon? I'm sure she'd be interested in your observations about Mr. Potter."
Annoyance flashed in Narcissa's eyes. "I don't think that will be necessary," she whispered.
Draco, looked up at the cold turn his mother's voice had taken. She'd been very odd about Harry. Draco wondered why.
"Go on, Draco," Severus prodded.
Draco cleared his throat. His gaze darted between his mother's face and his godfather's. They were staring at each other, having some sort of battle of wills, Draco reckoned. Why, he couldn't begin to fathom.
"Yeah, well," Draco began uncertainly. "He lied about how he got hurt, you see. He told me that he'd fallen. But today at the nursery, he told Uncle Severus that he'd had some sort of gardening accident. He covered really well, like . . . like he used to lying or something. But, I don't ever remember him lying when were kids, you know? I mean, what's happened in four years that he could do that now? I dunno. It was weird. Everything just seemed strange." Draco paused and cocked his head to the side, considering something he'd not thought about before. He leaned forward. Caught up in the Harry Potter enigma, his words tumbling out at a fever pitch. It was like a grand mystery—the kinds he and Harry used to solve as children. "And then, when I was at his house the other day, there were pictures on the fridge and in the hallway—family pictures and such. Some away, some clearly taken at the house, but the funny thing was, Harry wasn't in any of them. Not one. But the biggest thing was how he acted. At the house, he was edgy and angry—I mean really angry, like he was ready for a fight or something. But, at the nursery, he was calm, almost relaxed. Well, until Uncle Severus practically interrogated him. It seems odd that he was more at ease in open spaces than in his own home, don't you think? Mum? What do you think?"
Narcissa tore her eyes from Severus's accusing gaze. "I think you're making too much of this. Both of you, she said before striding from the table and up the stairs. At the sound of her bedroom door closing, Severus turned to Draco. He considered Draco carefully. Draco had hit on the crux of what was so troubling about Harry without even realizing it. Severus found himself revising his earlier assessment of Draco's capacity for dimness. It wasn't that Draco could be dim, it was more that Draco had grown up in a blissful bubble. It hadn't occurred to him that some families didn't support each other, that some families actively hurt each other.
Severus's thoughts turned to a different boy. One who, in his younger years, was shy and polite and scared of his own shadow, but now appeared angry, apprehensive and, by Draco's account, headed in the wrong direction.
"Draco," Severus began hesitantly, "do you ever remember seeing anyone . . . hurt Mr. Potter when he was younger?"
Draco sat back in his chair and blinked. This evening was getting stranger by the second. He sifted through three years of memories before answering. "No," he said slowly. "But . . . well, I mean I never got the impression that he was particularly close with his aunt and uncle. They weren't very nice. I just assumed that they were like that with everyone, you know? His aunt was the worst, really. Always snapping at Harry, calling him boy, dragging him around by the arm--" Draco stopped suddenly and drew in a deep breath. He remembered the small ring of bruises on Harry's upper arm. He looked up. "Uncle Severus?" he asked in a soft voice. "Do you think . . . why? That doesn't make any sense. They're family!"
Severus shook his head. "I don't know," he murmured. "But, I think further investigation is in order."
Draco nodded, subdued. He took a bite of potatoes, but immediately put his fork down. "Do you think Mum suspected--" he started to ask.
"Let's not jump to any conclusions just yet," Severus interjected, ignoring the fact that he was just as guilty as Narcissa in shielding Draco from unpleasant things, shielding himself from unpleasant things.
Draco nodded again, stared at his plate and wondered for the hundredth time that week just what in the hell had happened to Harry Potter.
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