Chapter Two
The wind made a branch tap insistently on the closed window but nothing would make Severus Snape move from where he was, regardless of how annoying it could be. As it happened, the former professor was sat comfortably in his favorite armchair, his legs crossed and his elbows were rested on each arm of it. His hair was down, falling like a curtain to his face as he leaned forward ever so lightly.
His long fingers were entwined before him, forming a small cocoon for the book he held before his eyes. He had been in that position for almost three hours and it was unlikely that he'd move anytime soon.
It wasn't every day that he indulged in reading in his living room, at least it wasn't very often that he read a potions' journal during his reading time in his living room.
Still, he had done it since he woke up. Two other rather lengthy looking volumes had been devoured in the morning, another two after – and during – his lunch and in that the moment he was merely beginning the fifth before dinner.
It was very unusual of him to go back to such a habit. Surely he hadn't stopped reading whatever that he could get his hands on, he was a researcher, that was what he did, but it had been an absurdly long time since he had allowed himself the pleasure of doing nothing else but think and breathe potions making all day.
He couldn't help but frown or sneer at some of the things the pretense brilliant potions makers were saying, some of the theories were too ludicrous and if he had any sense of humor when it came to his craft, he would have laughed at their imbecility. As it was, he was appalled to realize that people were following these incompetents.
So the Wizarding World goes through a war and everything was taken at face value?
They should have learned from that fool Lockhart.
As he pondered over the viability of mixing different species of wormwood for greater effect on the Burning Solve, something tickled the back of his head. Without stopping his reading, Severus tilted his head to the left slightly.
Someone had just been detected by his wards.
It didn't alarm him in the least as it had in the past; it only made him curious, besides he hadn't put any protective ward at his house. He had settled to knowing when his privacy would be interrupted and by whom. It wasn't as if he was hiding anymore, or that anyone would find him anyway.
There was only one person who could disrupt his wards in such a loud and ungraceful manner.
The ungraceful meant muggle.
The loud meant Yorick Brown.
After a mere mental count to three – that didn't disturb his reading in the least – his agent burst through his front door whistling and cheering him.
'How many times have I told you to not come in of your own free will?' Snape drawled surprisingly calm, not even bothering to look up or greet the younger man.
Following their old routine, Brown merely helped himself inside and shrugged off his coat, walking lazily towards Severus.
'How many times will I have to do whatever you don't like so you will realize that your prohibitions don't affect me in the least?' he asked kindly, not hiding his smirk as he jumped over the other's crossed legs to reach the couch at Severus' side.
Brown let himself fall on the couch in a very unflattering way, groaning as he did it and sprawling his body over it. As if any of that wasn't enough, he even dared to kick his artist's ankle lightly.
'Hi to you too, by the way' he sniggered when, at last, Snape sent a look his way. It was only a sideway glance but it was more than enough attention from someone like him and Yorick knew it very well.
After silently making it clear that the boy should not touch him in any way again, the ex-Death Eater turned back to his book.
'I thought you were going to let me alone for the next months, Brown.'
Even though he wasn't looking at the muggle, Snape was sure that Yorick had just shrugged as he made himself comfortable on Severus' couch. It was unbelievable the disrespect that Brown was able to display at anyone, without being abashed about it in the least.
Severus had to constantly check himself not to sneer at the younger man, and he rarely knew why he bothered to be irritated at him.
'I thought you'd like to know that the exhibition was a success and get your paycheck, you ungrateful bastard', Brown said airily before he added with a mocking strain in his voice '… and don't say "Of course, it was a success", all right? Just take the check and smile.'
The Potions Master only raised an eyebrow at the allusion of himself smiling at a piece of paper and could hear his agent sniggering as he reached for the check in his jeans' pocket.
'Is that all?' Severus asked with evident desire to kick Yorick out. Not that it had ever fazed Brown in the past.
'All the pictures were sold.' the younger man replied pleasantly as he placed the check on Snape's coffee table. 'Every single one, did you know that? You are officially a sensation, Black - a very profitable sensation.'
The pleasure and amusement were clear in Brown's voice and killed any possibility of Severus looking over his way, even as he watched the boy reaching for his discarded journals.
'Don't touch that, Brown.'
Obviously the younger one ignored his warning as he usually did, moving closer to the pile of volumes and checking their covers after a title or anything he was familiar with. The older man was sure that even if Yorick opened the journals, he wouldn't be able to read a thing, nor would he if he stood right behind Snape and tried to look at the book on his hands from over Severus' shoulder.
Those were obviously enchanted books, and could only be read by wizards - and in all their details only by Potions Masters. It was the most ancient way to protect magic objects from curious muggle eyes and also a good way to keep the most revealing secrets between peers.
'That elder American rich woman you amused with your little Mr. Sarcastic Stand-Off, she bought two pictures', Brown continued nonchalantly, touching the first journal delicately. 'The accountant you were so charmingly ironic to took another three for each of his offices. He's pretty big it seems and your work will be in display in Milan, Paris and here in London.'
'Don't make me cut off your hand, Brown.'
By then Yorick knew when to take Severus' threats seriously. That deep, clear and cold tone meant that the older man was being awfully serious. It wasn't as if Brown had ever gone as far as testing but if his instincts were correct, and his instincts had saved his arse many times, he was wise to let it go without a fuss.
Especially when the aforementioned instincts set off all kinds of red alarms in his normally reckless brain.
He immediately pulled his hand away from his artist's literary mountain and sprawled himself on the couch again.
'Even that god-awful picture of that boy is gone.' the dimpled man reminisced, 'the most expensive one at that. I always thought that the one with that elderly couple in India did worth more… but it's your art. You name the price.'
'God-awful picture?' the raven-haired man allowed himself to question blankly.
Yorick nodded as if the photographer were looking at him and deliberately pretended not to understand the older man's implications.
'The one of that boy that you took right after he got beaten up… You know, the one I named "Bully"'. Then suddenly, mocking a worried tone, he sucked-up, 'I say god-awful because the situation it illustrated was terrible, poor boy. The picture is beautiful, obviously.'
Snape merely shook his head at that feeble attempt of humor, fascinatingly able to belittle Brown with his natural disdain without missing one single word he was reading.
'Obviously', he drawled matter-of-factly. 'I told you someone would buy it.'
'I wasn't so sure.' Yorick was bluntly sincere as always. 'In quality, it's brilliant, but it wasn't your usual style, I guess, but yeah, it's sold. I tried to convince Harry to take something else but he said it had to be that one - said it reminded him of something he had never forgotten', he shrugged 'I didn't get it.'
'Harry?' the second he made the question, Severus knew with acute certainty the answer.
'Yes, Harry Potter. That friend of mine from college - the one you were very unpleasant to.' Brown was always quick to infuse his sarcasm into a conversation, 'Oh sorry, I have to be more specific – the young man dressed in green.'
Snape ignored the jest completely, his eyes stopping their relentless movement over the pages for the first time since he sat in that armchair that morning.
'He bought the picture', he said plainly.
'Yes.' Brown nodded and sat up on the couch, crossing his legs much in his photographer's fashion. 'He was very adamant about it even. After you left, he stood there looking at it and chasing off anyone who showed any kind of interest.'
Unwilling to think anything, let alone say anything, on the subject to anyone, least of all his nosey agent; Severus opted for an uncommitted grunt.
'I see.'
The only good thing about Yorick Brown's visits was that they were always incredibly short. Surely not as short as Snape would have liked them to be – if he had a say in the matter there wouldn't be any visits at all – but at least they didn't last long enough to seriously infuriate him.
He was well aware the only reason it was so was that, even though the younger man tried to test his patience constantly, Brown knew very well that Snape didn't like to have his privacy disturbed, and in his own rude manner, he respected this dearly.
Besides, after a while Severus would automatically ignore him completely and that took all the fun of the situation for the agent, so he'd just got up and left as he did in that moment.
'Well', the agent slapped his thighs before apparently pushing himself up in one swift move as he showed himself the way out, 'I have to be off. If you get anything else worth my time, give me a call.'
'I'm going to change the lock.'
Yorick laughed as he put on his coat, knowing that the photographer would most likely do exactly that. He shrugged and waved with a big smile on his face, that even though Severus wasn't looking at, he knew was there.
'Yeah, yeah, Black. Talk to you later.'
It was a nugatory habit, and Severus knew it, but whenever he made a decision he went through with it. This disposition could never be mistaken for Gryffindor's recklessness – as Albus liked to say just to irritate him – because he only made a decision when every single detail, actions, reactions and possible problems had been studied.
Yet, as he turned around a corner he began to suspect that this was one of those rare moments when he did something with a less than perfect outcome.
Snape hadn't been to the Diagon Alley in two years, a logistically small period of time, but those scarce years were incredibly far too long for a Potions Master.
For a wizard.
True, he had hated every single moment he had spent there during his two years of "social rehabilitation" but those had been so excruciatingly scrutinized by literally every single one who cared to take a look at him and recognize him, that he couldn't have helped but resent the place somewhat deeply for a while.
Of course, that wasn't the sort of thing that would last. Only a couple of emotions really stuck with him, the others just burned bright for a while and then began to gradually dull out to his customary detachment.
Walking around that place again, after deliberately – and stubbornly – ignoring its existence for a total of 760 days, Severus felt that itch all over again. It wasn't the same he had felt when he worked there at that damn Mrs. Darko's apothecary. It was that curiosity, that anxiousness he had felt when he had first seen the wizarding alley.
The air was different there.
It wasn't that polluted poisonous fume the muggles were so accustomed to but a clear, chilling air filled by magic. The robes, the hats, the muggle clothes misuse and the eccentricity only added to the feeling of homecoming, the same with the scent of old parchment, ink and dust.
Magic… he hadn't missed it, for he still had it, but he surely missed living it as he did in that moment. Not as something new, out of ordinary or unpleasant. He missed not having to worry if anyone saw the way his coffee mug refilled itself or how his clothes would be dry in a mere blink of an eye.
And he sure as hell missed his robes.
Dressed in that moment in black trousers, white dress shirt – with only its collar showing out of the confines of a black sweater – and a black leather overcoat, Severus felt out of place somehow and that was something incredibly knew for him.
When he went to live in the Muggle World, he didn't feel out of place because he knew he didn't belong there and – thankfully – never would. But this, this was his world and they had taken the familiarity from him… by force.
What made his feelings even more obvious was the fact the shops were the same as they had been since unmemorable times. Truth be told, almost nothing really changed in the magical world. They were bettered, worsened and most definitely got stronger but they rarely ever changed.
'Snape?'
Unfortunately, the universe's inclination to throw unwanted surprises at him never did change too.
Severus's body stiffened at that amused and kind call. Even though he hated himself for it, he immediately recognized it. In his defense it had been merely three whole days since he last heard it but, still, he wished he could have simply erased it from his mind.
'By Salazar', he grunted in annoyance when he found the smirking face of Harry Potter staring at him.
The wretched boy was walking towards him, attracting several curious glances that instantly perked up in interest at the mention of his name. The length of Potter's imbecility was astonishing, really. Severus had always wondered if the Gryffindor actually did it on purpose or if it came naturally to him this ability to be – in one way or the other, and in several different levels – the main responsible for most unpleasant moments in the former professor's life.
Knowing the insufferable brat, Snape decided that both options were correct.
Potter didn't seem affected by the older man's damning grunt, his deep scowl and clear irritation. He simply walked right to him and stood before him with a polite smile on his face.
'How are you?' he asked as if they did it every day.
Apparently he didn't bother to hide his eyes in the Diagon Alley but Snape was quick to realize that the infamous scar was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly he remembered Potter's clear surprise at Snape recognizing him merely at the sight of his unusual dark green eyes.
Taking in consideration that they were standing on a sidewalk packed with magical creatures and people, and still no one seemed to look at him for more than a few seconds – more interested to stare at the former Death Eater and convicted murderer in the vicinity – Severus figured the boy hadn't lied.
For obvious reasons that didn't make him feel any better. In fact, it bothered him even more. He sneered and gave Potter a superior once over, curling his lips in clear contempt.
The blasted youth merely tilted his head to the side, completely unfazed and seemingly only waiting for a snarky remark. Since it was what he was expecting, the older man was more than pleased not to oblige.
'Is this one more lovely coincidence, Potter?' he raised a suspicious eyebrow.
Potter simply looked around himself, his smirk not widening but his eyes sparkling with amusement. He then turned to the older man and shrugged noncommittally.
'Apparently', he nodded lightly towards the path ahead of them. 'I'm on my way to the apothecary, have some things to buy for next term. We're almost left with no wolfsbane and moonstone, too.' He then added politely 'You?'
Snape stared at him in silence, his eyes shooting daggers and rooting his next disdainful comment.
'It has hardly ever been any of your business'.
Potter didn't seem to take offense at the venom in his voice and kept his delighted tone of voice as if the older man hadn't just pretty much told him to bugger off.
'Would you like to accompany me?', he offered in a tone that made Severus certain that the blasted twit would have done the same question to nearly every single one in that damn alley.
His eyes narrowed and he turned to leave, knowing that the rude departure lacked some of his slithering rudeness without his robes.
It should have been enough but naturally it wasn't. Potter had always been disgustingly dense, absolutely unable to understand his place in the world.
And that that place was far, far away from Severus Snape.
That was the only explanation for the Golden Boy to continue his rant as he followed him.
'I have improved my way around a cauldron but I'm terrible at buying ingredients.' Potter commented as if Snape gave a damn, 'Never knew how to precisely identify would be the best state to buy a hawk feather or an Armadillo lizard's tail for example.'
He stopped after only five steps and turned to answer just what the Boy Who Lived should do with a rather big and thick lizard's tail when a shrilling voice rang from his left, although from somewhere far down on his left.
'Snape? Is that you?', an old, very, very, very old woman nearly screamed in such a horrid voice that could only come from one person. 'Snape! It's me!'
Harry watched as the tall dark man's face twisted in something akin to uncontrolled agony and tragedy before he sighed a heartfelt "Damn it" under his breath and clearly forced himself to look down at the gray vision that was Mrs. Darko.
The woman almost didn't reach 5 feet, which made her an absurd contrast between the two equally tall men. Her lengthy straight hair was nearly white and her face so unnaturally wrinkled that it took one a long time to discern her features successfully.
Well, at least it did with most people but Snape seemed to be quite unwillingly familiar to that yellowish face and eyes.
'Severus!' she clapped excited, making the mentioned man wince slightly at her happiness. 'It's been too long! How are you?'
Snape's scowl was unwavering, deep and threatening, but that had never stopped Mrs. Darko before. In some ways, the only reason why he didn't simply say something extremely rude to her was because the damn woman had been the only one to offer him a shelter and a job when he needed it the most.
She knew him since he was a little boy who 'wanted a decent amount of hellebore of the best quality' and no, he sure didn't want to tell her why someone so little would like such a thing. Severus took a deep breath, focusing on his suddenly immense resentment that Potter was still there, drinking in every single word that was uttered.
Nosey bugger.
'Bloody fine, Mrs. Darko', was certainly the politest answer he could muster.
'Good!' the elder lady's smile was so big and eager that almost made him nauseated. 'I was talking about you the other day! You know Crabbe and Goyle?' she asked before her face wrinkled even more as she added without much conviction and not giving either men the chance to answer the question.
'Terrible casualties but necessary I'd say… but their sons! They are in St. Mungos, do you know? Not both of them, mind. The Crabbe boy is there and the Goyle one's in Azkaban!'
Her voice got higher and higher as her story progressed; making Snape wish desperately to cause Potter a lot of pain for the boy's sincere smile was only spurring the damn woman on and on.
'Oh, oh! Don't worry!' she waved her hand theatrically as if Severus frown meant something other than displeasure. 'One is the Chief of Security and the other is the Head Wizarding Guard.'
At that her smile wavered slightly as she blushed deeply '...but, erm, you knew that, didn't you? When he was promoted you were still… I-well, but that's past, isn't it?'
She patted his arm in that irksome habit she had picked on during the time he had worked in her shop. She also would poke him whenever she was saying something, as though she thought that he wasn't hearing a word she was saying even though she screamed more than spoke.
Severus thought that his irritation might have been so palpable that before he could either curse the woman – or strangle her – for gathering a small whispering group of people around them, Potter found fit to interfere.
'Mrs. Darko?' he asked softly.
The woman's eyes swam over his face, not stopping to focus on any particular inch of flesh before they settled on his eyes and she smiled sweetly at him.
'Yes, dear?' she cooed adoringly.
Snape felt like vomiting.
And he would have, if Potter hadn't shocked him out of his body with one simple gesture as he talked to the deluded woman.
'We were on our way to some shopping, if you don't mind I am a bit late as it is', the bloody boy's eyes seemed to grow in honest regret at the prospect of not being able to listen to her.
But the ex-Death Eater didn't see it because he couldn't breathe through his indignation.
'Oh.' Mrs. Darko sounded deeply disheartened, her eyes dancing over to Snape but taking in consideration that she could never truly look at his face when they were both standing –thanks to his incredibly long hair and the fact that he rarely bothered to look down at her -, she merely glimpsed the two hands at his side before she blushed scarlet again.
'OH! Sure, sure! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to get in your... way ...you most certainly are doing something rather important.' She winked in the general direction of her former employee, 'I am very sorry! It was very good to see you again, Severus!'
With that she haltingly moved away and out of view. It was all the older man needed to snap out of his confusion-induced lethargy and pull his whole body away from Potter's as if he had been whipped into motion.
Severus glowered at the surprised face before him, those blasted green eyes inquiringly and yet amused by his actions. Self-righteousness kicked right in and fueled his anger.
'Are you out of your bloody mind?' he hissed.
At the tone of Snape's voice, Harry frowned in reaction to his sudden foul mood. Not that the older man had been in a good mood before but that didn't mean that he could take his frustration out on Harry when he hadn't done a thing to the git.
'What?' the Gryffindor demanded annoyed.
'Do you know what this public display looked like for that demented woman?' Snape demanded, taking the other man by surprise.
Yet again.
'Public display?' Harry asked slowly.
'You were bloody holding my hand, Potter!'
Snape watched as the boy's eyes widened but he didn't see any hint of the alarm he had felt as soon as the Golden Boy's fingers closed around his fisted hand, in an appallingly reassuring and intimate way.
No one touched him without permission, and he had been stumped at Potter's audacity, so much so that he had been absolutely frozen in shock. What only took him out of that comatose was the outrageous conclusion Mrs. Darko had quite clearly got to.
He wasn't expecting an apology, and if the younger one started to stutter and babble like an idiot Severus would most surely hex him.
'Oh. Didn't even notice.' Potter gasped softly, looking gingerly at his own hand with a curious frown on his face before he blinked repeatedly and shook his head lightly, looking up at the Potions Master with the same easiness he had before looking devastatingly confused for a second.
'Well, don't worry. It did send her away, didn't it? So tell me, what should I look for when picking the best kind of hawk feather?'
Absolutely unjustified and it made him suspect that he probably had been cast an Imperio and hadn't noticed it yet because Severus was actually still in the company of Harry Bloody Potter. The damn boy didn't take the hint earlier, as he hadn't taken the hint years before and continued to follow Snape around Diagon Alley.
Surely the younger man was saying something, many things for that matter, but Snape couldn't be bothered to pay attention at one single word. Severus had threatened, he had barked and ordered the other to get the fuck out of his face and never come back but it was to no effect. In every turn, there was Potter with his insufferable smile.
The fact that there were only 3 apothecaries in the alley was completely irrelevant to Severus, who was firmly certain that Potter had set out to haunt him.
The worse kind of haunting even, the living kind.
He could simply turn and leave but that would mean he was bailing and he would never give Harry Potter that satisfaction. So he merely sneered and acknowledged the boy's stupidity whenever he saw necessary, which was pretty much every single time they encountered each other.
'I am shocked to know you even got your NEWTs, Potter. Every 5 years old knows that the smoothest feathers are the better ones to manipulate. If your student's scores are the highest I dread to think of who the other professors are', he had been forced to say as the incompetent was about to buy the worse feathers they had seen all day, without a moment of hesitance.
At another time, in another apothecary, Snape couldn't help but curl his lip without sending Potter one single look as he examined some bat's eyes.
'The larger tails are for immediate effect, you idiot, and the thickest scales are for lasting results. Tell me, Potter, if you're the Professor, who's actually teaching these children?'
As he walked around the establishment, Severus was more than just annoyed at seeing Potter walking towards him with his arms already full of bags with various ingredients.
'Thank you, Pro—Snape.' As if in an after though the younger man corrected himself, although the main responsible for it had been the glare sent his way. 'I always get these wrong.'
Severus didn't even bother to respond as he pointed at one of the bags.
'The Wolfsbane, is it for Lupin?'
Severus was pleased to know that he had just caught Potter off guard, before the idiotic smile was back on place.
'It is for him, too.' He answered solicitously, 'I'm making him the potion, now. Tonks could never do it properly, so I took it upon myself.'
Snape snorted and turned to reach what looked like a fairly well-kept shark's liver, but not before he commented in an acidly voice loud enough for the youth to hear him. It wasn't really needed for Potter was right at his heels.
'Nymphadora could never brew anything worth a damn. She got a Dreadful in her OWLs, and I was being condescending with her test.'
Potter chuckled deeply but the older man didn't look at him.
'Yes, she told me that', he shrugged, '...but they had to make do for a while.'
Snape didn't respond for a great while, momentarily entranced by some begonias' leaves he had seen out of the corner of his eyes, as Potter studied some shrivelfigs.
When a considerable amount of time ticked by, he was pulled out of the depths of his thoughts by the Potions Master's seemingly uninterested question.
'But you said "too".'
'Yes.' Harry smiled and looked up from the shrivelfigs only to find the back of Snape's head, 'One of our students was bitten during the war. He's the best in my class too, obviously because of the primary motivation, but he's also got a natural inclination.'
'I see', was what the other replied in an absentminded way. It was all Harry needed to hammer a particular nail that had been bothering him greatly for days.
'I'm still looking.' He said carelessly and added unnecessarily, 'For someone for the job.'
After so many years with muggles, Severus had come around the peculiar tactic of leading the conversation whenever it got to a path he didn't care about or enjoy. It wasn't as satisfying as simply barking people quiet but it was handy whenever he talked to people and he didn't even feel motivated to be obnoxious.
Those were rare moments, when the instinctive pleasure of being a jerk to people didn't entice him, but they existed. It happened mostly when he was focused on something else entirely, something far more pleasing, such as the prospect of buying that vial of Nile's water so he could continue his testing on the Dissolution Potion.
'Why are you leaving?'
The stumped silence didn't affect Snape satisfactorily as it would any other time because in reality he wasn't really conscious of what he was talking about or to whom.
It had always been a bad trait of his, the one of getting so lost in his own plans and thoughts, whenever he had sudden insights about his work. He used to have a lot of problem with it during his school days or staff meetings.
Back in the day, McGonagall would deliberately ask him something about the charm she had been explaining for over 45 minutes while he had been too busy writing down an epiphany.
Or Dumbledore would entrust him to summarize the most important topics that had been discussed about the changes in the syllabus for the new school year on the school's records, when Severus had spent the entire 5 hours cataloguing the different beetle species needed to successfully brew an improved version of the Gregory's Unctuous Unction.
Bloody Gryffindors.
'I'm not leaving', the answer came after a while '...it's only that our Dark Arts' teacher will leave and Piotr wants me to fill his place. I just can't teach both subjects, but at this pace, I'll only get someone to take care of DA. I can't find anyone I trust to take Potions.'
'Dark Arts?'
By the firmer and impatient tone of the voice, Harry was sure his former teacher was again very aware of his presence.
'Well, we don't really have a need to defend ourselves against it, do we? Besides, the more we know about it, the easier it is to protect ourselves from it.'
'I'm certain that is an opinion shared by our illustrious Ministry or Magic.' Snape scorned as he turned to look at the brat.
He was in time to catch the fleeting shadow that crossed Potter's face before the young man schooled his features, he shrugged uninterestedly.
'It's not like the Ministry has any say in any of it. It's not knowledge that leads to evil; it's the thirst for it that brings out the worse in people.'
Severus let the comment slide.
'Who was the former teacher?'
Again the hesitation, but this time the ex-Death Eater couldn't put it in any patter. Potter let his eyes travel the length of his own body and hands before he raised them to meet onyx suspicious eyes. He smiled but Severus knew with burning certainty that that smile was the first that Potter had sent his way to deliberately irritate him, as a diversion.
'Blaise Zabini.'
'Blaise Zabini.' he couldn't help but arch an eyebrow.
'Yes', the other chuckled '...a very good one in fact, thanks to him one of ours was the Triwizard Tournament ultimate champion last year.'
Harry saw the way Snape's whole demeanor towards their conversation changed. Suddenly he knew that he had the Potions Master's full attention, even though the impatient scowl was firmly in place. "I never forget my Slytherins" echoed in his head.
'I see.' Snape replied, missing the way the other man's eyes narrowed and darkened as he turned his back to romance the Nile's vial, 'Why is Prof. Zabini leaving?'
'Personal reasons'.
The green-eyed man's flat and cool tone fell on death ears, for Snape one merely registered his words.
'What about Miss Greengrass, she has always been rather decent.'
'Daphne's already in Beauxbatons.'
The once Slytherin Head of House let out a hum as reply, his face impassive and his eyes glued to the other ingredients on the shelf but his hand did spasm possessively around the vial. Harry waited for what was to come, working the muscles of his jaw and trying with all his might not to let his fist curl at his side.
Snape's next question disarmed him completely though.
'Miss Granger?' he asked obviously not invested in the answer.
'Mrs. Weasley', Potter said significantly, trying to gauge a reaction, but the older man didn't give him any, at least that was what Harry thought because he didn't see the unsurprised raised eyebrow, '...is busy with her job in the Ministry. All the same, she took a few months off because of the pregnancy.'
'Young Miss Weasley?' the same uninterested tone.
'Ginny would help readily', the youth answered, apparently not able to conceal his kindness. 'If she weren't committed with St. Mungos- she's the Head Healer.' he added unnecessarily.
'Mister Longbottom?'
Again Harry started.
But quickly recovered.
'Neville?' he questioned the obvious and hated himself for it a second later, so he rushed to address his answer. 'Well, he could ...with his amazing qualifications. He got the second highest NEWTs in our year. Apparently his former academic failure was due to the nerves.'
Severus only sniffed contemptuously.
'Mister Longbottom had always had an acute interest and natural inclination for dealing with herbs that added to a minimum aptitude for Potions, would have turned him into an adequate craftsman', was all he would say on the matter as he reached for some frog's eyes.
'True.' Harry said carefully, 'Still, Neville is in Hogwarts. Herbology is his crack, always has been, Luna was an option but she's in Hogwarts, too'. Then he continued more to himself than anything, 'I could ask Ron, but with the new Quidditch season, and Hermione's pregnancy, it'd be impossible.'
'Mr. Weasley?' Severus asked, with that tone that often made people want to hex him. 'He's never had anything remotely akin to talent for Potions.'
'The same could have been said about Neville and me.' Harry said politely.
'Mr. Longbottom just needed to sharpen his focus. In your particular case I still refuse to believe that someone who can't even pick hawk feathers is of any worth of calling themselves a professor and Mr. Weasley could never chop a herb correctly.'
'Too true'. Potter chuckled against all odds, 'Hermione was constantly telling him but, like I said, he wouldn't be able to help, even if I asked.'
That was when a loud group entered the apothecary, all of them carrying several Chudley Cannons' flags. They all had the team's shirts and badges on, and were enchanting a melody that Snape was pretty sure he had heard before. He glared at them, and was momentarily amused by the red wigs they wore and the name on their shirts.
The number one covered half of the front of the shirts and when the owner kicked them out, the older man saw a frighteningly familiar face sticking its tongue at him. Severus raised his eyebrow and avoided looking over at the Boy Who Lived who most definitely sported a very punch-able grin.
'Mr. Weasley has endeavoured to succeed in the great real of Quidditch, I gather', Snape commented sarcastically.
'Quite so', Harry didn't even bother to chuckle, his amusement clear in his laughing voice '...he's in the national team for 8 years straight, now. The youngest Keeper in centuries.'
'No one who had seen him playing at school would have thought that he would get so far.' Snape snorted.
'Same problem Neville had.' Potter was quick to defend his best friend, 'Ron has always been quite intense; couldn't keep his wits together under pressure. At least not when my and Hermione's life weren't at stake, or when he wasn't playing chess, but once he learned to trust himself more, he was able to show his talent.'
The last bit was more of a personal anecdote than anything else and as he didn't care one way or the other, Severus simply dismissed it. Instead he opted to do one last relevant question.
'What about Miss Harper?'
'Neci.' the tone was low and kind, but it still had a tiny bit of suspicion. Snape had the feeling that Potter was aware that his question had only meant to throw him, 'I don't even bother her with something like this. She's got enough trouble with the Ministry, as it is. She would come to me the second I called her though but she's needed somewhere else'
'Prof. Potter?'
Both men turned around to that shy and absurdly polite murmur. The Potions Master raised his eyebrow in question at the impertinence as Potter's eyes grew in pleasure and recognition.
The boy was about only a few inches shorter than them. His eyes were a deep shade of amber, his hair dark blond and curly, long enough to fall over his eyes. He was maybe too thin, or maybe too tall, Severus couldn't be sure, still there was something to his physique that would make Molly Weasley stuff him with food and Pomfrey drown him in Strengthening Potion.
He looked warily over at Snape, his nervous glance returning to Potter constantly as he tried fiercely to get his attention and reassurance. The disgusting smile the boy was presented with apparently did the job for he immediately relaxed visibly.
'Ernest!' the pleasure was almost exaggerated, as Potter waved for the boy to come closer.
'How are you, Professor?' the boy blushed lightly but asked unusually formally.
'I'm good, Ernest.' Potter obviously didn't notice the boy's discomfort and hugged him tightly, causing his blush to deepen. 'And you?'
The younger one smiled softly and shrugged as it was wont of someone his age. He sent a nervous and bashful glance over at the frowning figure of the Potions Master and then looked over at Potter again.
Something in the boy's face made Snape analyze him more critically. Had it been recognition?
'I'm all right, sir', the one called Ernest replied with an overly calm and controlled voice 'Came to buy more wolfsbane.'
'Right!' Harry chuckled and smiled blindingly 'Me too! Did you manage it on your own?'
This time the adolescent allowed himself to give the Golden Boy a wide and proud smile. The change was absurdly drastic in comparison to his previously restrained demeanor.
'Pretty much.' He nodded eagerly, 'I finally got the dill seed's measure correctly.'
'Very good', Potter exclaimed and patted the boy's shoulder, his left hand fluidly moving to cover Hamilton's neck as the boy went crimson red '...I told you you'd get it right.'
Being the Slytherin he was, Severus quickly understood the implications of those words. He had indulged in watching silently, something he had become somewhat of a master at, but his professor's instincts spoke louder and he simply had to interrupt that rather curious interaction between the two young men.
'Do you let this boy brew a Wolfsbane Potion on his own, Potter?'
The prat's hesitation only assured Severus that his suspicions weren't unfounded. So he was right, unsurprisingly so. Still, something in Potter's eyes told him that his former student was glad that Severus hadn't made all of his conclusions obvious.
'Well, he did watch me do it for two years and has been helping me for another three...so yes.' The brat said carefully, his sudden bashfulness didn't fool Snape though. It was clear that he was trying to gain time, but what for, the ex-Death Eater hadn't figured it out yet.
Glancing from the older to the younger man before him, Harry smiled apologetically. 'I'm sorry. Ernest, this is the Potions Master Severus Snape...Mr. Snape, this is the student I told you about, Ernest Hamilton.'
The boy immediately offered his hand to him after the Golden Boy's introduction, his eyes widened ever so lightly and Severus had the very unpleasant certainty that the boy had heard an awful lot about him.
Snape had a pretty good idea of the kind of things he'd probably heard, so that was why he was so utterly surprised with the younger one's words and the clear awe in his voice.
'Nice to meet you, Master Snape' His handshake was sure and eager, 'Professor Potter told me great things about you, sir.'
Severus couldn't help but snort derisively.
'Somehow I doubt that, Mr. Hamilton, but you're attempt has been duly noted.'
Harry saw the way Ernest felt absolutely uncomfortable and intimidated by Snape's presence, being drawled at by the older man wasn't something people could easily not be affected by.
So the way the boy looked over at him, trying to apologize for any possible faux-pas and asking silently for a way to fix the situation made Harry slid his hand to over Ernest's shoulder and squeezed in reassurance.
'Don't be harsh on the boy, Snape', he said kindly with a hint of warning in his tone, which earned him a raised eyebrow '...he's being sincere.'
The two of them engaged themselves in a staring contest: Severus, unable to believe what the boy had said; and Potter, with an amused challenge blazing in his green orbs.
'You were the one who developed the Dreamless Potion, were you not, Professor?' Hamilton's question pierced the tension impudently and loud as his age requested.
'Yes, I did, Mr. Hamilton'. Severus answered, wary of the adolescent's excitement, his rebuke came as an afterthought 'I'm not a professor anymore, though.'
The teenager's eyes widened even more, his admiration and surprise etched in his body language as he looked from the incompetent he called a professor to the Potions Master repeatedly.
Apparently the boy was barely restraining himself from saying something and he only really did open his mouth to address Severus' comments and reply after Potter gave him one firm and calming nod.
'That's my favorite potion to make, sir', the comment all but burst its way out of Ernest's mouth, making Harry chuckle lightly at Snape's suspicious frown.
'It's incredibly complex, but once you find the right way to balance the ingredients - it's really amazing', the boy added blushing, noticing he had almost started babbling.
Before Severus could cut the boy with his skepticism and sarcasm, Potter seized the momentary silence that fell between the other two.
'Ernest here brew his first Dreamless Potion at the end of the last term, isn't that right?'
'What year are you in, Mr. Hamilton?'
It clearly had been years since Snape last could talk to a potions student. Hell, it was probably almost a decade since the older man could even talk about potions at all.
'Fifth, sir.'
'You're a fifth-year and already can brew a Dreamless Potion.'
'Well', he looked over at Potter, turning crimson red rather quickly again '...I can try, sir. I only got it right once so far.'
The pleasure in his voice and eyes were alarming and Severus was very aware of that but he couldn't help it but be impressed. It had taken him years to develop the Dreamless Potion; its level of complexity was higher than most complicated potions ever created and a fifth-year had got it right? The fact that the boy had achieved success once, regardless of how many tries he had made – it was absolutely mind-blowing.
Severus himself had been able to get a NEWT's level potion right when he had been in his fourth-year. He'd spent almost two years testing before he completed it, but that wasn't relevant. Potter had a jewel in his hands, and all Snape could do was hope that the imbecilic prat knew what he was doing and didn't destroy that boy's talent.
'That's highly impressive, Mr. Hamilton', he said noncommittally.
'Thank you, sir' was the boy's overwhelmed answer.
'Do you brew your own potions?'
Hamilton looked nervously at Potter, clearly not knowing what to say, or maybe how to say it. By the looks of it, the boy had no idea that Severus was aware of his condition and he was trying to find out from Potter if he should assume that he did.
Snape didn't blame the boy. If one thought of the way most Wizarding World saw and treated any dark creature, or wizards who had any kind of relationship with them, the student would have been a fool to expose himself lightly. It only proved that Mr. Hamilton wasn't a complete dunderhead as Severus had been so ready to assume for the mere fact that the adolescent knew and liked Harry Potter.
After a shared meaningful look, Ernest seemed to nod imperceptibly and turned to the former professor with a set look on his face.
'Yes, sir', he said with false confidence. 'Prof. Potter made some slight modification to the original recipe and now the potion is adapted to my body's chemicals'. Hamilton looked lost for a few seconds before he was in control of himself again, 'It doesn't only keep me rather...sane... but it also stalls the transformation, and it doesn't hurt as much.'
Severus snapped his eyes from the boy to the hateful green gaze that had been studying him relentlessly.
'It wasn't only my doing, Ernest here helped me a lot', Snape was terrified for a moment that Potter would ruffle Hamilton's hair '...and it basically happened by accident.'
'I see', he drawled blankly '...even your incompetence makes you successful, how absolutely unsurprising.'
Again Ernest was at loss, feeling trapped in that bubble of animosity that had formed around the two men. That was most definitely the first time he had seen Prof. Potter so fiercely controlled and tense, even though he was smiling politely, Hamilton could sense his teacher's distress.
As for the Potions Master, his displeasure was more than clear on his face and demeanor and he didn't even try to hide it. In fact, while Harry Potter tried with all his might to appear calm and centered, Severus Snape, Hamilton realized, wasn't bothering in the least to conceal the fact that he didn't like the younger man.
That was why Ernest pushed his dark blond curls out of his eyes, unnerved now by both the men's silent duel and his hair's insistent predicament. He had to get them out of that immature behavior before they started to act upon their challenge.
Remembering everything Prof. Potter had told him about his relationship with Master Snape, Ernest knew that a real confrontation was bound to happen.
'Prof. Zabini will really leave, Professor?'
Harry blinked repeatedly, his hand tensing ever so lightly on the boy's shoulders but neither one of them acknowledged the act.
'Yes, Ernest', he said with a foreign tone that his student knew he sometimes adopted whenever he was talking about a particular subject he didn't want to talk about more than necessary '...unfortunately he will.'
Knowingly the boy merely focused on a rather more important part of the conversation, and the question he had wanted to ask ever since he knew of his Dark Art's professor sudden departure from Durmstrang.
'But you will stay, right?' the boy's eyes grew round and clear. Severus found breathtaking to see the amount of adoration the student clearly felt towards bloody Potter.
'Yes, I will'. Harry smiled and chuckled throatily 'I don't know what I'll teach yet, but I will stay.'
Ernest's relief was almost palpable but something told Snape that the Boy Who Lived had not noticed a thing.
'All right', he smiled faintly before he looked down at the watch he had on his wrist and turned to the Potions Master, '...well, I have to go now. It was a pleasure and an honor to meet you, sir. I hope to see you again.'
Harry watched as the old greasy git took Ernest Hamilton's offering hand without hesitance, for the second time that day. He had never seen the bastard act as if the contact wasn't decidedly unwelcome.
'The pleasure and honor were solemnly mine, Mr. Hamilton' was the slow, and admittedly not at all contemptuous, drawl. 'I hope you will nurture this unusual and refreshing interest in potions.'
'Thank you, sir.' The boy blushed deeply again, 'Good bye, Prof. Potter. I'll see you next term.'
'Sure thing, Ernest', this time, Harry did ruffled the boy's hair, earning a glare and scowl, but Ernest wasn't really affected by it in the least '...take good care of yourself till then.'
The youngster nodded towards them and Snape appreciated his good manners immensely. Harry had seen the appreciation very well, even though the older man was quick to focus back on the vial that had never left his hand, before he resumed his study of the items on the shelves.
'As it is, you are the living proof of an old saying, Potter.' Was the comment he heard after Ernest Hamilton was long gone and an uncomfortable silence had fallen between them.
It seemed they both had suddenly realized that the interaction they were having until the boy's arrival was absolutely surreal and shouldn't have even happened in the first place.
'Really?' he grinned curiously, 'Which one?'
'The students make the teachers' Severus drawled lazily. 'Mr. Hamilton seems to be a very gifted young man; it's just absolutely disheartening to know that he has little chance of enhancing such a beautiful craft, with an excuse of professor such as yourself.'
The former student was momentarily too surprised to even be offended, let alone answer the verbal abuse. That was most definitely the first time in all his life that he had heard the greasy git compliment anyone who wasn't a Slytherin.
And Draco Malfoy.
'I agree with you completely, Professor.' Potter nodded, not sounding as annoyed as Severus had expected him to, 'Ernest needs a good tutor, someone who can guide him properly-mold his eager little mind. Unfortunately I'm not the one with qualified knowledge and competence to do so and I simply can't find anyone else who can.'
That was all it took Snape to still his focused perusal of the shelves. With one stubborn scowl, he targeted his full attention on the hated face of Harry Potter. The insufferable boy dared to meet his stare openly and calmly.
'Was that one of your little coincidences, Potter?' he demanded annoyed at the boy's smirk, before he added, 'Because it's not going to work.'
'What?' the younger man chuckled slightly, as if impressed with his conspiracy theory. Obviously he did not convince Snape in the least, which made the former Death Eater's eyes narrow to slits, 'I have absolutely no idea of what you're talking about, Professor.'
'I am not a professor anymore, Potter', he barked impatiently.
'Oh, sure, I'm sorry.' Potter said not sounding sorry at all. 'You are a renowned muggle photographer now – very talented indeed. So tell me, when will your next exhibition happen? I'd love to receive an invitation for it, as well.'
Severus didn't even bother to respond; he merely glared at Potter and disapparated.