Yet Another Snape Meets the Dursleys Story: by rabbit
Disclaimer: Still JKRs.
Chapter 14: The Descent
Summary: Snape reaches the end of his strength
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It was getting increasingly hard to think.
He could have tolerated it if he were trembling from weariness, or even if he were stumbling from dizziness, but the haze in his head was really not to be borne.
Snape stood in the dining room doorway, waiting for Dudley to come back through from the kitchen, and trying to keep his face still as he struggled to recall how to float Petunia from the chair she was in to the chair he had Animated. It was really a simple Charm. He'd learnt it as a first year.
And he couldn't remember it.
The food on the table was distracting him. That was the problem. Maybe if he ate something he could think. He went over and put some meat onto a dinner roll, feeling a sense of déjà vu.
"Can I have one of those?" Dudley had come back, with a bucket of mud and the bird tray.
Snape swallowed, and felt a few faint sparks of the potion still working. Dudley was a big lad – there had to be some muscles holding up all that weight. "Yes," he said, "if you'll transfer your mother to the Animate chair, first."
"Do you mean it to hurt her?" Dudley asked, putting down what he was carrying quickly and coming over to Petunia.
"No. I intend to have it take her upstairs," Snape said.
Dudley looked from the chair to his mother, and then at the sandwich that Snape was eating. He bent down, so that his face was closer to Petunia's. "It's all right, Mum. It didn't hurt Harry," he told her. "I think it just has to do what it's told."
"Five points, Mr. Dursley," Snape said, surprised that the boy had deduced that much. "Although there are limitations to its abilities and definite limitations to its intelligence."
Dudley lifted his mother and moved her over to the waiting chair and then kissed her cheek before looking up at Snape. "How do you mean?"
"It cannot comprehend complex commands," Snape explained, feeling as if he were doing something off without quite being able to figure out why. He explained things to students all the time. "For example, if I were to say, 'Hold on to the woman and take her upstairs…' " The chair shivered and didn't move. "You see? But if I break the commands into simple sentences: "hold on to the woman" " he waited as the chair's arms encircled Petunia securely, "and now… take her upstairs," the chair began to move off towards the stairs.
Dudley watched her go with alarm. "Why does it have to hold on to her?" he exclaimed.
"So she doesn't fall off," Snape said peevishly, taking up another piece of chicken. "Now are you hungry or aren't you?"
Dudley stared after his mother for another long moment, but then he nodded. "Yes. I guess so." He started to put together a roll sandwich, but he was still distracted. "Excuse me, sir," he finally said. "But where's Daddy?"
Snape chewed faster and swallowed angrily. "He's in the cupboard under the stairs, and if you don't shut up and eat, you'll join him!" he snarled.
Ravenous hunger. Distractibility. Obviously side-effects of the potion combined with food.
Irritability. Potential homicidal rage. Side effects of the Dursleys.
Dudley, rebuked, sat down and began to nibble at a piece of chicken, steadying into trencherman mode when Snape didn't shout at him. Snape was too busy chewing, half-fascinated by the strange bursts of potion energy making curlicues through his veins. Between them, they were rapidly solving the problem of looking for the cold-storage – there wasn't going to be anything left to put away.
In fact, Dudley was accounting for a proportion of the food that was vaguely alarming. Snape scowled when the boy grabbed the last piece of chicken from the warming pan. He can't eat and talk at the same time.. "What do you think of your cousin, Dursley?"
Dudley shrugged and swallowed, "Not much," he said disdainfully, and then colored up and backpedalled hastily. "I mean, not really much. As in, not often. Not… not… Well, he's not here very much these days, is he? Just in the summer." Snape dug into the bowl of mashed potatoes and let Dudley keep digging his own grave. "It is strange not having him here at Christmastime, but I like it because he doesn't get in the way. Only… only, if he's not here, then I can't show him what I got, and I don't like that as much. It's not the same if you wait till the summer holidays. And when Harry's not around then Piers and Dennis always want to pick on Gordon and that's no good because Gordon's the only one who knows how to break the copy protection on the good games and hack into things and he won't if he's being picked on." Dudley stopped to reach for the rest of the salad.
"Harry," Snape reminded him curtly, commandeering the peas.
"Harry," Dudley repeated, pouring salad dressing over the bowl. "Well… He's a freak, isn't he? I mean, maybe not to you, but we're real people. I used to have to keep an eye on him all the time in school, to keep him from making any freak friends. Mummy didn't want him trying to bring anyone home, did she? Not that it was all that hard. I mean, you've seen him – his hair's a mess and he never wears decent clothes – who'd want to be friends with that?"
The food was doing some good. Snape could spot the gap in logic there. "Does Potter have decent clothes to wear?" Everything in the laundry basket had looked like it was far too large.
Dudley snorted. "Why would anyone spend good money on clothes for Potter? The ones he gets have plenty of wear in them, and we've got to economize somewhere. Mummy and Daddy didn't plan on having an extra mouth to feed, you know, they just got Harry dumped on them when I was a baby. Besides, he'd only ruin them."
Snape swallowed the last spoonful of peas, and leaned back to see if he could find anything else edible on the table. "Who told you that?" he asked absently, since the list of excuses sounded well-rehearsed to his ear.
"Mummy," Dudley said, through a mouthful of salad.
Petunia!
He'd forgotten. He'd sat here, stuffing his face and listening to the Dursley boy maunder on and he'd forgotten all about Petunia.
"Idiot!" Snape stood up abruptly and Dudley nearly fell off his chair going backwards, unaware that the Potions Master was addressing himself. Pay ATTENTION!
The potion was going to wear off soon. He'd been wasting time. Wasting it! He'd be lucky now if he managed to get the Dursley boy settled before he fell on his nose. And to make it all the worse, he was suddenly aware that he was going to need to avail himself of the plumbing facilities. Soon. Another side effect, I expect. I was better off taking the doses without food.
"Come along," he ordered Dudley "and don't forget the bucket and the bird tray."
"Yes, sir!" Dudley squeaked, scrambling to his feet. He gave the salad he'd spilled a forlorn last look before grabbing the things Snape had sent him for and following along.
The Animated chair was waiting patiently at the top of the stairs. Petunia was fuming. Good.
"Second door on the right," Snape told it. "Put her on the bed." He hadn't had to specify earlier. Harry's door had been the only one open, and his bed the only one the chair could reach; but now the guest room and master suite doors were both open, and he couldn't risk confusing the chair. It moved quickly down the hall and into the small bedroom; Snape and Dudley followed.
"Put the bucket in here, and take the bird tray to the master bedroom," Snape told Dudley. "Wait." Bird. Bird. Oh, yes. He pointed to the battered blanket on the floor. "Take that rag along to put under it. The bird's not entirely well, yet." He felt pleased with himself for remembering about the blanket. Perhaps the food had helped after all.
There was something else he had to remember. He ignored Petunia's indignant mumbles as the chair dumped her inelegantly on the bed. She'd live. Snape prowled around the room, trying to jog his memory. The books were gone. That wasn't it. But there was something.
Dudley came back, and crossed quietly over to help his mother sit up on the bed. He watched Snape for a moment, but it wasn't in him to wait patiently. "Now what happens, sir?" Snape looked at the two of them; Dudley was standing next the bed, one arm across his mother's shoulders, and a look on his face that made Snape think of Lily. "Is mummy going to be tied up all night?"
"No," Snape told him, and then thought to follow it with a threat for Petunia's sake. "Not unless she makes a racket and keeps the rest of us awake."
"She won't," Dudley said, looking down at her. "You'll be good, won't you Mummy? I don't want to think of you being tied up all night. I won't be able to sleep."
Petunia glared at Snape, but then nodded reassurance to Dudley, making it clear without words that she was promising her son and not Snape that she would behave. Snape didn't believe it, not in the long term, but it might be long enough to get them all a few hours rest.
He signalled for Dudley to move aside. "Stay on the bed," he warned Petunia, and dispelled the ropes, leaving the gag. She could work it off herself, later. "Mr. Dursley, go and brush your teeth.
Dudley nodded, starting reluctantly for the door. "Good night, mum," he said, and then paused as he passed the desk. "Do you want me to take Harry his box?"
The box. That was it. "I'll take care of it." Snape waited until he heard the water running down the hall before he moved to the desk to collect the tin box of Harry's small treasures. Potter will have to hide it after this, I suspect. Perhaps in his school trunk.
The school trunk. Damn. Another thing to tend to. He couldn't leave it in the guest room. He had to put Dudley in the guest room. He couldn't remember just why… something about…chatting with friends. Maybe the boy had a fireplace.
Petunia shifted position on the bed, attracting his eye as she backed away from the patient chair. The chair. He could move the trunk with the chair. "Go into the hall," he ordered it and faced off with the Dursley woman. "It is going to take proper care for young Potter to recover completely. I wouldn't trust you to provide that to a sawdust-stuffed frog." He stopped. That hadn't come out the way he wanted it to. He shook his head, trying to clear it. "You'll stay in this room until I think it's safe to let you out again," he told her.
Petunia started forward, as if she were going to get off the bed, and he drew his wand. She stilled, her eyes hard as granite.
He'd had a cutting remark planned.
He couldn't remember it.
From down the hall came the sound of the water closet flushing.
His brain wasn't working, but his kidneys certainly were. Damn.
"You can use the bucket," he said bluntly, swept out of the room, and closed the door.
The Dursley boy was just coming back. Snape grabbed him by the shoulder and steered him into the guest room. "Stay here," he ordered. "Sit on the bed. Don't touch anything."
***
At least Muggle mirrors didn't talk. He'd have to get one, sometime.
Muggle lighting, however, he could forego. It made him look like he'd been trampled by a Pale horse. With any luck the Rider wouldn't show up. At least not until he'd managed to make sure there were Lock spells on the Dursley's doors.
He threw more water on his face; checked the dilation of his pupils. The potion was definitely wearing off now. It should have worn off half an hour since. Maybe the food's done some good after all.
The Animate chair was still waiting patiently in the hallway. Snape sat, trying to remember what he had to do.
The trunk. The woman. The boy. The man was already Sealed in. Snape stood, and opened the guest room door.
Dudley leapt back onto the bed, and tried to look as if he'd stayed still.
"Ten points. Off, Mr. Dursley." Snape checked the trunk. It seemed untouched. "Push that out into the hall."
"Are you sure it won't go off?" Dudley asked nervously.
"No." Snape folded his arms and tried to look like he could outwait the boy.
Dudley got off the bed. After a moment of dithering, he took hold of the rug under the trunk and pulled the whole mess into the hallway. Snape almost wanted to give him his points back, but decided not to cloud the issue. His legs were ready to give way, but he had to stay upright a little bit longer. He didn't dare appear weak in front of any of the Muggles, not even the boy. He picked up the nearest book and put it into Dudley's hand. "Here. Read this tonight. I'll expect you to be able to give me three feet on it in the morning," he ordered waving Dudley back into the room and going out to the hall.
"Three feet of what?" Dudley asked as Snape closed the door on him.
The potion is failing now. I hate this part.
He stumbled against the trunk and only the quick motion of the chair prevented him from falling.
"Aromahola!" he told the lock, and heard it snap shut.
The hallway grayed at the edges, swallowing the light.
I can't pass out. Not yet. "Turn around," he ordered the chair.
Eventually, he found the other doorhandle. "Aromahola!" he cast again, and began to shake so hard the chair closed its arms around him without a command.
He waited to see if he'd end up unconscious in the chair in the hall, but the tiny tunnel of light refused to vanish from his vision. "Take me… to the other bedroom. To the boy."
The chair rocked upwards, and he could hear the clicking of its legs on the floor. He clung to consciousness. Just a little more work and he could give up for the night.
The chair stopped. Snape put out a hand and found the magically warmed blankets, following the edge of the bed until they stopped and then, with a vague feeling of looking the wrong way through a telescope, found Harry. He was still sleeping. Still breathing. So far, so good.
Just one… more… thing…
"Put me in the other bed," he told the chair, and shut his eyes, surrendering to the darkness.