Chapter Three
He crouched and brought the camera to his eyes, adjusting the lenses. Severus had spent the whole day photographing strangers. He still had to decide where he'd go, several options and little motivation. Snape was the type of artist that needed a theme, he needed an inspiration and London wasn't giving him any.
Normally he would leave, try to find something worth registering out there in the world. But this time he didn't even know where he wanted to go in search of this insight. He had been at so many places, and yet he hadn't been anywhere.
Despite of the social vibe of his last work, Severus didn't want to be known for it. He had to admit that he had a good hand to pinpoint suffering and sorrow but he wouldn't be able to know why.
One of his favorite exercises was just hang around at a public place and watch the scenario, looking, searching and finding. A distressed couple, a crying baby, a whining dog or fighting siblings. Also a lonesome elder man, a lost little girl and a thoughtful young man.
It was true; Snape was to agony and general sadness what gold was to Goblins. It was hard to say if one attracted the other or if one was the cause of the other, the thing was that once you found Severus taking photos, there was most certainly gloom about.
At that particular moment he was busy on his thoughtful young man. Sat with his back against one of the most beautiful trees at Greenwich Park, one leg bent and the other stretched. One of his arms was supported over his bent knee, and the other was laid at his side, his hand holding an ancient looking book. He had his eyes concealed by dark shades and he was wearing dark washed jeans, obviously tad big for him, a white wife-beater and a red and green tattersall flannel shirt.
The sleeves of the shirt were folded to his elbows. His head was leaned back, showing a long, pale, albeit strong, neck. The angle made the man look incredibly thin, his features weren't absolutely discernible from afar and setting the lens, Severus realized that even though the nose before him was slightly crooked to the left and the bottom lip bore a faint scar – enhanced by the contrast of pale skin and the sunlight – the young man looked very common and ordinary.
Perfect, exactly the type of character he liked for his photos. The hair was loose, falling forward like one messy black curtain as it flew about the boy's face with the wind. The strands couldn't reach much longer than his shoulders and also didn't look very even. The complete opposite to Snape's own shoulder blades' lengthened and methodically cut raven hair that was currently gathered at the back of his head by an infamous leather thread.
Severus had never bothered with his hair before; he only kept it long because he had never had it short. Since he could remember his hair had always reached his shoulders and usually covered most of his face, hiding his eyes from view. When he was right off Hogwarts, and thanks to several never mentioned events, he got over this habit a bit and his hair found its greasy controlled place at each side of his face.
When everything had an end, he simply didn't really think about any of it. He wanted to leave a lot of things behind, but he didn't have the heart or desire to cut his hair. It was a part of him, not only his stance and personality, but also most of his whole being. In fact, it affected directly his magic. One of the worse moments he had had back at Azkaban, had been his first month when they had shaved his head bold.
Dumbledore used to tease him, telling him that he was a temperamental in essence and his attachment to his hair was a proof of that. He only used to sneer and say something along the lines of "Look who's talking" and changed the subject. The old man also had hinted more than once that this aesthetic preoccupation was what really brought him and Draco Malfoy close.
Draco.
No matter how hard he tried, Severus would forever believe he had failed the boy. Even with everything he had done, everything he had protected Lucius' son from – all the things Malfoy should had kept the boy as distant from as humanly possible – he would forever know that he had lapsed.
Snape scowled and tightened his hold on the camera. He had to take that bloody shot fast, before his muse moved or sensed that someone was looking at him. He'd have time for his gut-clutching guilt towards Draco later.
One, two, three, four and five.
The first couple to be sure he had gotten that position right, and the others just to capture the tiny movements that followed. The elbow at the knee moved to enable the free hand to flip a page, then the hand found it's way to the young face, finally long manly fingers pushed a few strands of hair out of the face as the other fingers managed to pull the shades down the crooked nose.
The last shot made Severus tremble.
It was the stricken and yet oddly peaceful face of a young man, with dark rings under his eyes, incredibly pronounced cheekbones and blazing green eyes. He was looking directly at the camera, his eyes unusually wise and amused, old and young. The reddish glow coming from the setting sun, making every single scar over that face visible – including the biggest one in shape of a lighting-bolt on the middle of the boy's forehead.
Snape jerked the camera from his face with violence. It couldn't be possible. He was trembling still, but he wouldn't be able to say if it was indignation, hatred, or surprise that made him shake so fiercely.
Probably all the above.
He watched as Potter got on his feet in one fluid movement that contrasted with his former careless position. On their own accord, Severus' older legs forced him to stand just as quickly and gracefully, and then retreated with all the dignity and speed he could muster.
It wasn't possible, or probable.
That was the third time that Potter was invading his privacy, the third time in one lousy week. Surely it was too horrible to fathom that his karma was so fucked up that his agent had known Harry Bloody Potter before, but it was reasonable. Snape had been locked up for years, with no contact whatsoever with the exterior world.
And he simply never gave a rat's arse about what the Golden Boy would ever do with his life anyway.
So he could accept the fact that the universe decided to trick him with that terrible little joke.
The whole Diagon Alley incident was also hard to explain but not impossible. It had been his fault mostly, after seeing Potter he had – what? Missed? Urged? Longed?
There was no word to really say why he had broken years of self-imposed exile. It had been plain bad luck that led him there at the same day and hour Potter had. In reality, he didn't resent the whole thing greatly and mostly because he had been able to get in an apothecary as a customer – or at least accompanying a customer – for the first time in almost one decade. And there was always the young Mr. Hamilton acquaintance, something he had quite enjoyed actually.
Obviously Potter's presence ruined what would otherwise be a very pleasant day but that he could easily erase from his mind. Snape had always been incredibly selective, like any other worthy Slytherin, and he could very much delete from his memory the Golden Boy's presence.
But that was too much.
It was bloody Sunday, summer afternoon and the Greenwich Park was absolutely packed with people all ages, all races and pasts. It was unbelievable that he'd find the damn boy there and least of all choose him as his muse.
Someone was trying really hard to make his life a bloody hell.
'Snape!' Harry shouted, pushing his way through people and mumbling his heartfelt apologies in between 'Wait! Snape!'
If anything, the name made him loathe the boy more than he had ever hated anyone in his whole life. Of course, if Potter had been shouting his first name, Severus would have hexed him but he'd have kept going. If he had tried to make a joke and scream his dogfather's surname – knowing that he had taken it – he would have simply ignored the brat and hailed a cab.
If the wretched idiot had yelled his mother's maiden name, there was no knowing what Severus would do to him.
But it certainly would be something painful, bloody, irreversible and quite Unforgivable before he went home, without one single backward glance.
Yet, the brat was bellowing his name. His birth given surname. His. That made him almost insane with the amount of aggression and hostility that suddenly reddened his vision and stalled his proud trotting, so he could turn around and look Potter in the eyes.
Harry started at the look on Snape's face. After so many years, he still couldn't get used to the fact that he was just as tall as his former professor. It was different from when he simply noticed one day that he didn't have to be on the tip of his toes to reach the highest shelf at the library. Or when he actually was the one who picked up the special dishes Mrs. Weasley kept on top of the cupboard at the Burrow so Fred and George wouldn't throw them as if they were discs.
Or when he almost opened his head as he banged it rather forcefully on the bloody shower. He did realize he didn't need to look up quite as much as he used to when he was younger to talk to Charlie or Dean (who had pretty much reached 6 feet at the mere age of 15, ensnaring the second place as the taller one at school. He only missed it for Ron), but his growing process was slow to come.
In reality Harry had only really had a decent growth-spurt when he was 18, until then he did grow exponentially but in a very moderate manner. Unlike Neville, Blaise, Ernie Macmillan and Draco Malfoy.
To his everlasting glory he had forever missed the shorty title because of Seamus, who had never really had a decent growth spurt. Not even at the age of 18. But in his defense, Finnigan had also been the first Gryffindor boy their year to ever get laid, so in their own rules, he was more than excused for not being exceptionally tall.
Still, in that moment Harry was brutally aware of how much things had changed. Severus Snape used to be the tallest man he had ever known; tall, imposing, threatening and much of a bastard. He always figured that once he was a grown up – which was his condition – the looks of the Potions Master would lose much of it's dark effect.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
Standing rock still, tense and yet burning with obvious hatred, Severus Snape was still tall, imposing, threatening and much of a bastard.
Even if they were literally looking into each other's eyes.
Those obsidian orbs were as bottomless as he had ever thought they were, and the glare only intensified if you looked at it full force as he did in that moment. It wasn't just the "I despise you, get out of my sight, Potter" glare he had grown up with.
It was something darker, stronger and crueler.
Much on the same fashion of the bark that quickly followed the silent threat.
'Shut the hell up, Potter!'
Severus saw the way the boy looked at him with a very guarded expression on his face, his eyes blank but not totally devoid of any feeling, as they had been at the gallery for one second. That was good; it got him the opportunity to get back at Potter for that moment of weakness.
'I...' Harry shook his head as if he was trying to clear it, his voice slow and firm, as if the older man was a wild animal ready to rip him apart if he moved brusquely. What obviously wasn't very far from the truth 'I thought you hadn't heard me... I've been shouting for about two blocks and-'
'And you simply couldn't understand' the other cut him ruthlessly, his voice nothing more than a hiss 'the fact that I was ignoring you for all its worth so your feeble mind advised you to holler my long forsaken last name in attempt to actually make me stop so you could ask me why the bloody hell I don't want to talk to you, Potter?'
For some reason, Harry grinned but he immediately knew that was a very wrong thing to do, so before the ex-Death Eater was really certain that his expression had twitched he schooled them again.
'Yes... Something like that...'
Severus growled at the unmistakable amusement that etched in the younger one's insufferable reply. He had to breath, in and out. He had spent 8 years in Azkaban; he had escaped a life-long conviction.
But what really kept him from pulling his wand and blasting the Golden Boy was that if he did it, it'd be a pretty damn happy day for Sirius Black in Hell.
Not because he'd kill the boy, but because he'd manage to be rightfully accused of something that not even that psycho was capable of. Imagine Potter's dogfather's satisfaction at whatever after-live he had gotten himself into.
He wouldn't allow that, no matter how much his hand itched. Black had created a new kind of low, and he wouldn't allow himself to follow it. That was why he took a deep breath and forced a bark through his tightly clenched teeth.
'Get out of my sight, you imbecilic boy.'
When the older man turned his back on him, yet again – reassumed his swift and menacing departure – Harry couldn't help but let his anger flare. He most certainly didn't appreciate to be so bluntly disrespected, especially when he hadn't done anything to deserve it.
'I'm not a boy anymore, Snape' he replied evenly, stalling the older man's retreat.
'I see you didn't refute my calling you an imbecile' Severus turned back only enough to show Potter his sneer, then he made to leave again 'If you'll excuse me, I have better things to do.'
To his everlasting disgrace and damnation, Harry wasn't about to let him off the hook like that. At least, not in that moment, and he knew just what to say to get the other's attention.
'Did you photograph me?' he asked, raising his voice.
At that, Snape stopped. He didn't turn around right away, his hands closed into tight fists, for a moment he didn't give a damn if he would rot away in a cell. It'd be worth it, if he caused Harry Potter a lot of pain.
'You did, didn't you?' the voice pierced his bubble of fury, although it didn't sound like a question at all.
The green-eyed wizard shoved his free hand in his jeans' pockets, his right hand still carrying the book he had been reading. Slowly, carelessly, he walked to his old professor's side. He knew that any other position would only make him more of a target to Snape's wrath than he had ever been.
If he placed himself before the Potions Master, it'd seem like a disrespectful challenge. If he stayed at his back, there was no knowing what reactions he would provoke. Besides, he was taunting the old man enough with his serenity.
'I thought I had felt someone staring at me...' he began carefully, noticing that Snape refused to look at him, his face set and unfriendly 'I didn't look up before because I've learned to ignore this feeling... But it didn't go away and I thought-'
Suddenly Severus whipped his head to his side, watching the way his sudden movements made Potter's eyes grow in surprise. He slowly turned all of his body towards the Boy Who Lived, locking him with a gaze that was meant to do nothing but scrutinize.
And if possible, humiliate too.
'Are you following me, Potter?' he drawled, and it was obvious that he didn't care about the answer because he had pretty much came up with one himself.
That was the only explanation.
Severus was a wizard but that didn't necessarily mean that he believed in fate. Despite the fact that he had far more knowledge on the subject, especially if you add prophecies to the equation, he was still very much certain that nothing was planned or inevitable.
Your life is pretty much the result of all the fuck-ups you do during its course. He? He had fucked up many times, in epic proportions even, what explained most of the crap in his existence really. But even though he didn't like nor did he buy the whole destiny bit, he also did not believe in coincidences.
It hadn't been a coincidence that the Marauders had chosen him as scapegoat for their most sadistic trades, it hadn't been coincidence that he just happened to be at the Astronomy Tower with Draco that night, or that Harry James Potter looked just like his blasted father but still had his mother's eyes.
And it most certainly hadn't been a coincidence that it had been Lily Evan's son that killed the greatest and darkest wizard that had ever lived.
It was all plain bad luck, if you asked him.
What meant that Potter had a purpose, he had a goal, and Severus Snape was too old and too pissed off to ignore it just now, as he had all the other times he had met the blasted boy.
Harry immediately caught on this change of pace, knowing that there was something very wrong with the way the Potions Master looked at him and the words that came out of his mouth.
'What?' he frowned violently, then groaned as he shook his head wearily 'No. Look –'
He didn't get to finish that.
'Regretted the little good deed you did years ago?' Snape poked viciously with the tone that had always made Potter loathe him deeply 'Have you decided that you should take upon yourself to haunt a Death Eater and a murderer? Is that it? Do you want to make my life a bloody nightmare, Potter?' he gave him a mirthless and mean grin 'Because you really don't have to try this hard, boy. I have lived a nightmare for most of my childhood and adult life. And I still live by them every single second. Courtesy of your adorable father, godfather and Headmaster. I really don't want to frustrate you, but all you're doing is unnerve me.'
Severus was now towering Potter and the satisfaction was so nostalgic that he almost didn't regret his sudden outburst. Perhaps he had gone too far, told more than the Golden Boy needed to know but what the hell? He just wanted him gone.
He had been fine. But that was a lie, wasn't it?
Severus had never been fine, never in all his life. But at least he had been at peace; he had been away from everything. Far away from the memories, the ghost and everything Potter represented.
Everything that bloody Gryffindor stood for and had fought for.
He expected the old fits of anger, the screaming and the barely contained tears. But Harry fucking Potter offered none. He merely stood there, looking at Snape with eyes growing darker and glassy, and somehow that was better than what he used to do when they confronted each other back in a day.
Because that way, the older man had the upper hand as he had always had.
'If I only mildly irritate you...' Harry replied blankly 'Why are you so desperate to send me away, Snape?'
And just like that, Severus felt the control of the situation slip through his fingers. It was enough. He didn't need that. He didn't want that. Potter, Potters, Evans, Blacks, Lupins, Pettigrews, Dumbledores, McGonagalls, Lestranges, Malfoys, Riddles, Snapes; they had all destroyed him.
One by one, piece a piece.
It had to stop.
'Get out of my way, Potter' he groaned and turned to leave.
'I'm not seventeen anymore, Snape.' Harry said evenly, as if he wasn't saying the obvious 'You won't get me to flee and leave you alone, without one single answer just because you're offending the memories I have...' he chuckled hollowly 'I used to make it really easy for you, didn't I? That's why you always preferred Neci or Malfoy...'
And for the third time in less than 10 minutes, he managed to make Severus Snape halt his steps.
Something about the other's expression, a mix of all possible unpleasant and painful feelings, gave Harry a bizarre sense of deja vú. It wouldn't be for along time until he remembered when he had seen that look on Snape's face before.
'Don't.' the threat was hoarse and meaningful 'You dare talk about Draco.'
The younger one blinked, the unfamiliar familiarity of the situation making him too uncomfortable to do anything other than reassure his former professor, though he'd be damned if he knew why he did it.
'I wasn't going to'
The answer affected Snape instantly, his face again impassive and his frown and voice impatient.
'What do you want, Potter? To talk about the grand old days over tea?' his voice made it clear that'd be a snowing day in Hell before that ever happened.
The older man's condescension irritated Potter deeply, and he made sure the other saw just how his sarcasm was absolutely unappreciated. As if Snape really was bothered to take that kind of hint.
'No. I just...' he stopped abruptly before he groaned 'Were you or were you not taking pictures of me?'
'Yes, I was.'
The immediate, stubborn – and clearly not without struggle – answer stumped Harry. So much so that for a moment he was at loss for words. He wasn't used to a Snape who didn't simply told him to shut the hell up and kept on chanting exactly that, until Harry was too hoarse from their screaming match to even remember what he had wanted to know in the first place.
And yet, there stood the ex-Death Eater, vexed and with his arms crossed, his face hard and his eyes belittling; but also answering his question.
'Why?' he asked, unable to demand it as he had planned to.
'Because I didn't think it was you, you conceited insufferable boy' the curl of lips was followed by a disdainful once over.
Typical, Snape was making it sound as if he, Harry, was a conceited wanker. He took a deep tired breath but held the other's unwavering gaze.
'I'm not a boy anymore'
'Oh, for the love of-'
Severus didn't even bother to finish the phrase, deciding that he definitely shouldn't be there wasting his time, he turned, intend on leaving for good this time.
He had barely taken two steps before Harry inadvertedly repeated a mistake he shouldn't have repeated.
'Snape!'
This time there was no warning; he only knew what had happened until his face was millimeters away from Severus Snape's. In record time, and with a swiftness that made him move like a bloody snake, his old professor got hold of the front of his shirt and pulled him towards his empty onyx eyes.
'I already told you to stop shouting my name, Potter' he warned lowly 'I'm not going to say it again.'
And just as suddenly as he had been grabbed, Harry was released, leaving him slightly bereft. That was the first time Snape had ever gotten so close of him, hell, it was the first time the old man had ever touched him in the least.
In an odd way, he felt uneasier than actually worried. Despite of the fact that he had just been manhandled, he felt as if he had trespassed the Potions Master's personal space. Of course, his personal space had just been violated, brutally so, but Harry didn't feel as offended as he should have.
That was why he simply rearranged his shirt, his voice calming and sensible; the same voice he used whenever he was trying to bring a particularly nasty, venous and pissed-off student from going berserk.
It could be highly destructive in a magical school; the whole "let go" technique didn't work when the adolescent in question had a wand and a (im)moral predisposition to throw Unforgivables like confetti.
Obviously, if Snape ever found this out – and read between the lines – there was a good chance that Harry would in the very least lose his manhood.
'Look... I have a place nearby, all right? I stay here, whenever I'm not at school obviously... And I always come here to read, although this bloody book is a complete waste of time...' he grinned and showed the other the volume he still carried.
If he had the willingness or energy to, Severus was pretty sure that that was the most likely moment of all the times that he had been obligated to be around Potter, that he'd have ended up cursing the prat.
Still, something about his sudden calmness, and the fact that he himself had just lost his control for a second, made him deepen his frown but keep on listening. It was either that, or the mere fact that the book the blasted Golden Boy was holding was one of the journals had had recently read – and absolutely hated.
'I know you hate me...' Harry ignored the snort he earned for that understatement and continued 'I have to say you're not my favorite person in the world either... But I also know you miss it...'
'I've got my wand, Potter' Snape raised an eyebrow at the impossible audacity 'I still can do magic and I don't have to go to Diagon Alley for it. The same goes for Potions and anything remotely –'
'Teaching...' Potter shook his head kindly 'I'm talking about teaching... I know you miss it...'
In only two seconds the menacing sneer and frown were firmly back on place.
'You don't know anything about me, Potter.' Severus drawled disdainfully 'Don't fool yourself.'
Snape saw the way Potter's expression closed once again. The same look he had witnessed at the gallery when he had finally broken the serene exterior the boy had offered all night.
It didn't last long though, for soon Harry looked away and then back at his old professor, his eyes now blank, but not guarded. His voice was weary but firm.
'I do...' he continued without ego, and in a rush so the other man wouldn't simply rebuke him or lash out at him 'I do because I miss it every day during summer... Because I can't help but spend hours in my lab trying to create something, get something right or find the easiest way to teach them how to brew a Memory Potion decently... I do because I saw the way you talked to Ernest the other day...'
That about did it. Severus didn't answer with the snaky comment he had on the tip of his tongue. His earlier curiosity about Potter's real intentions came back full force.
So there was something there.
The Boy Who Lived was working too hard to keep that conversation, and he had worked even harder to make it reach that particular turn, against all odds.
'What are you saying, Potter?' he asked simply and uninterestedly.
'The obvious, Snape...' Harry said seriously, his face now set in his most determined expression 'I know most people wouldn't hire you... Not even to make first-year potions... And you won't go back to Hogwarts; I know for sure that McGonagall only didn't invite you back yet because you couldn't be found... And believe me she and many others have tried to find you...'
'Do you have a point, Potter?' Severus drawled bored.
Harry nodded, knowing that the fact that the Potions Master was still there and hadn't hexed his mouth shut; meant that he was paying attention. More, it meant that he was interested.
'Yes...' he continued 'Come with me to Durmstrang... Piotr would love to have you there, and taking in consideration the profile of most families that send their boys there I doubt we'd have impressive amounts of complaints about your presence... And you're the best Potions Master there is, besides...' Harry grinned knowingly 'Ernest would give you all the motivation you'll need to tolerate the other hundreds of students... The salary is good too, third times what you used to earn and you'll be able to take on your photography there-'
'Why this desperate need to convince me, Potter?'
It was a pretty damn good question. But it still had interrupted him, and he couldn't help but start. Harry then picked on the real meaning of Snape's question.
He made sure he was looking into the older one's eyes as he gave him his answer. Let the man use Legillimens if he wanted, as long as the older one heard what he had to say, he didn't care. In ways, the git was right; he was desperate to convince him.
'I can guarantee you that I am not leading you into a trap of any kind, Snape' Potter declared with so much sincerity that Severus was almost appalled 'I just really love what I am doing and I honestly believe that you are the right one for the job.'
But of curse, the truthfulness that was dripping from the boy's voice and was more than clear in his eyes didn't change the fact that he hadn't fully answered the question. Snape knew that Potter was keeping their eyes locked in an open invitation, or challenge, for him to search for the honesty in his mind but the former teacher didn't take the chance.
Not even to know if it was merely an offering or an attempt to bail him.
'And?' he asked suspiciously and tersely.
Harry was slightly taken aback at the fact that the older one didn't even try to get inside his mind. Taking in consideration their past, that was the most shocking thing Snape had done – or rather not done – since he found him almost a complete week ago.
'No and' he answered automatically.
Severus leaned forward ever so lightly, looking deep into the younger man's eyes, but that was all he did.
'There's always an And, Potter' he replied plainly 'I made your life impossible at school, and like you said we most certainly don't feel even civil towards each other. Why go to such lengths to get me a job?'
At that, Harry let go. It wasn't like he could refute those comments and he was utterly tired of beating around the bush. Besides, he could play mind games with Snape later; he had more important things to do.
And almost no time at all.
He took a deep breath, looking away for the first time.
'It's Ernest...'
That answer and the far off exhausted expression on Potter's face were certainly not what Severus had been expecting. In all honesty, he had no idea of what the heck he had been expecting, but it most definitely hadn't been that.
'Mr. Hamilton?' he asked numbly.
Harry didn't answer right away; he kept on looking everywhere but back at Snape. That should most naturally unnerve the other man, but neither of them said a thing.
For the first time in days, Severus was sure that he could say any degrading thing his sharp mind could come up with and still Potter would be at his heels. He didn't know for sure if the boy had been following him, but he had a feeling he was about to find out why Harry Potter wasn't as eager to see the back of him as he was to see his.
The youth's voice awakened his mind, the sound hoarse and absentminded.
'Can we...' Harry finally looked over at his former Potions professor, and perpetual hater 'Can we go somewhere more appropriate to have this discussion? My flat is this way...'
Without really knowing why, Severus Snape nodded.
Severus had refused the tea Potter had offered.
Actually he had growled that he bloody hell didn't want a goddamned thing and all that Potter could do for him was answer his bloody question. Not even that was enough to take the misty haze from the Golden Boy's eyes. But still, Snape noticed that the Ministry's Poster-Boy took on himself to annoy him and announced that he'd appreciate a cup of Old Grey very much.
Severus wasn't ashamed to say that he had wished the boy would choke.
All in all, he was glad he hadn't taken the cup.
Because if he had, he'd be pretty much sick.
Harry stood at his window, knowing that his old professor was watching him from his couch. He couldn't care less; he continued to stare out at the pane of glass, occasionally sipping his now stone cold tea, as he had done since he began the story.
It wasn't as terrifying as it was saddening and uncomfortable, but still he was sure he'd never get used to it. As he'd never get used to any of the stories he had heard after the war ended, simply because it didn't matter how ludicrous or unbelievable they were. He still knew they were all true.
Snape leaned back on his seat, his face now thoughtful, what was a rather startling contrast to his suspicious mask, the very one he had used all the way to Potter's flat untill the moment the other began his tale of horror.
During the uncomfortable silence that the younger one let fall between them once he was done, Severus was trying to absorb what he had just heard.
The wretched youth had simply taken a sip of his tea, cleaned his throat and began the dale with a dispassionate voice.
'Ernest was only 5 when it happened, a pack got in his house. His parents and older brother had built a bunker, like most families did back at that time, and they practically lived at this bunker more than at the house. In the last night of war, a random pack burst their way into the Hamilton's house. If it had been anyone else, Death Eaters looking for refuge, or even Vampires trying to hide from the sun...'
Harry had shook his head in defeat and sighed tiredly:
'Werewolves... I never could find out what happened, why they got inside... Lupin didn't see a pattern in this behavior also... Werewolves never look for small locations, not even when they're threatened... They freak out, become savage and head to attack... They never hide... They never run to hide... But the thing is that they did... They destroyed the house... Everything... Not a problem at all if they had been anyone else... Anyone at all... But werewolves? Of course they caught Ernest and his family's scent... They spent hours attacking the bunker... Lupin and the others only got there minutes after the werewolves had breached through the bunker... More than enough time...'
Snape had watched silently the way the other seemed to lose himself in thought, before he blinked repeatedly as if trying to clear his view. After a while he had continued with the same unemotional voice:
'Ernest's parents threw themselves right on, putting their bodies in range to give Ernest's brother time to escape with him... He was only 14 years old... With another child in hands... He lost his balance; he got scared, I don't know... Maybe a bit of both... He fell from the bunker, all three floors, hit his temple bad on the floor and passed out... Lupin said that the werewolves probably thought he was dead and that was why they didn't touch him... He had a serious concussion... The fall smashed three vertebras... He lost all movement from the waist down... They say... That the werewolves probably knew this...' Harry curled his lips, but the older one didn't see it 'Damaged goods... It was a miracle Michael survived at all... But Ernest... When Lupin arrived they were about to eat him whole... They saved him and saved his brother too...'
Severus kept silent for a little longer, until all the information that Potter had dropped over his head was finally and completely inside his mind, for further and later study. He didn't even bother to warn in advance that he was about to speak.
'Mr. Hamilton is a werewolf since his childhood?'
'Yes...' Harry said simply 'Lupin and Tonks kept him and his brother... Trying to educate Michael to get on with his life, overcome depression and feel confident enough despite his disability...' he stopped again before he kept on going 'And trying to tutor and appease Ernest as much as they could... Lupin mostly since he had been bitten at an early age too...'
Severus frowned when a very unpleasant thought crossed his mind. He immediately voiced his question.
'How many years did Mr. Hamilton went on without a potion?'
'A good one?' Potter asked, not bothering to move yet, nor waiting for answer 'Five years...'
'FIVE YEARS?'
It was crazy and Snape couldn't help but raise his voice at the imbecility and danger of the situation. How the hell had Lupin and Tonks taken care of two orphans, being that one of them was merely a child and a werewolf without a decent Wolfsbane Potion for five years?
How could Lupin be so irresponsible as to put not only Nymphadora's life but also Mr. Hamilton's older brother at risk like that?
Not to mention Ernest Hamilton himself. It was an absolute miracle that the boy had survived to see his adolescence. Severus knew for fact that many children who were bitten died – a most gruesome death at that – during their first full moon, their fragile and undeveloped body unable to withstand the pain and violence of the transformation.
He was so immersed in indignation and useless anger that he almost missed Potter's answer.
'Yes...' he said softly, ignoring or not caring for the volume of the other's voice 'When I got in Durmstrang that was when he got in too... At the time I didn't know that he and Lupin were taking such a draught potion, and before I had been a bit preoccupied with other things...'
The Potions Master gritted his teeth and forced himself to remain quiet. He was very much aware of what had kept the Boy Who Lived occupied at that time. It was after all the reason why Snape was standing at Harry Potter's living room in that moment.
'By then he and Michael weren't living at Lupin's anymore' he continued 'In fact they only did it for three years... When Michael was legal and better, they left... Ernest always went to Lupin close to full-moon and then when he was of age and got the letter for both Hogwarts and Durmstrang, Lupin advised him to come to Durmstrang...'
'Because of you?'
Want as he might, Harry didn't hear the contempt. It was merely a conclusion, and the older one almost made it sound logical, obvious. Even if his voice was somewhat laced with sarcasm.
He figured there would have to be created the day when Severus Snape would be able extract every single unpleasant tone from his voice when he was talking to or of Harry Potter.
'In part...' he nodded lightly and finally turned around to face the former teacher 'Like I said... Most families don't care about the past of their teachers for they have pretty bleak pasts themselves... And with the end of the war, it took a few years for people to overlook differences and unify... Lupin didn't want Ernest to feel the way he did when he was at Hogwarts...'
Severus thought over this for a while before he addressed his next question. He was now undoubtedly intrigued about where that conversation would lead him. So far he hadn't been able to figure out what exactly was his part, or the part the Boy Who Lived was so eager to give him.
'And what would make Durmstrang different?' he asked clinically.
'I don't know...' Harry said calmly, he looked down at his cup and then smirked sardonically but in no way mockingly 'Maybe the fact that it doesn't look beautiful at any time of year? Because every day is either snowing, or raining, or just dark?'
'What would favor Mr. Hamilton's adaptation' Severus supplied.
'Probably...' Potter said carelessly before he sighed deeply 'I wouldn't know...'
'And is it better for him?'
For the first time Harry felt his lips twitch truthfully and honestly, since he got at his apartment. He truly had learned to love that school and everyone under that ancient and magic roof.
It had been there that he had spent most of his more than bearable moments since everything was over. It was thanks to those people, those students, Ernest that he was still there.
'I think so...' he nodded and Snape saw the same light blazing in his eyes that he had seen the first time they had encountered and he had mentioned Durmstrang 'He loves that school... It's written on his face... He feels free there, he told me... Knowing that everyone can protect themselves from him if it's ever necessary...'
The ex-Death Eater nodded, bottling every time bit of information, still unaware of what precisely was expected of him.
'Does he have friends?'
The question caught Harry unaware and stumped him. Since when that was something a man known as The Ultimate Greasy Git for six generations of Weasleys, general Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, would care to know, let alone bother to ask?
He looked over at the impassive expression the before-mentioned bastard had firmly on his face and raised an intrigued eyebrow as he thought about the answer.
'I don't think so...' he frowned suddenly 'Ernest doesn't tell me much... Neither does he to Michael or Lupin...'
'Don't you watch him in class, Potter?' Snape asked as if that was an obvious thing to do and therefore an easy answer to give.
'I do...' Harry frowned deeply, looking at loss – and slightly embarrassed – for a while 'But he's always so focused in my classes... I never see him talking to anyone in them and as far as the other professors are concerned he's just like that at all classes...' he drifted off slightly and then added as if foreseeing the impatient question 'As for out of classrooms... I see him chatting with some of the boys every once in a while but no one in particular... As in, no group or person specifically...'
That didn't bode well, and something about the concentrated look on Potter's face told Severus that the dense boy had realized it too. Well, it bloody serves him right, he thought. Say what you say, Snape had always been acutely aware of every single one of his students.
Sure they irritated the shit out of him but he still knew exactly who was related to whom, who was friends with whom and who was romantically involved with whom.
It was something that came from his years as a spy; he couldn't help but watch people serendipitously and draw patterns to personalities. But he knew that most people didn't have the same talent, and Potter most certainly didn't.
'I see' he said simply, without much interest and fed up with the fact that they were going on and on in circles and he still hadn't gotten his answer 'Why do you want me to be Ernest's Potions Master? You mentioned him before. Specifically telling me that he's the one who's going to make my taking this job worth it. What's the "And", Potter?'
For the second time that day, Harry Potter did something he had never done before in all his confrontations with Severus Snape. He looked away.
Not even when he was bluntly lying about not taking anything from the old professor's storage – or just really keeping silent and taking every threat and attack the older one could ditch him, without even bothering the refute the accusations that were thrown at him, did he ever look away.
Of course he used to do that when he was indeed at fault, when Snape was being unfair – something that happened almost as frequently as Harry lied to him – he simply screamed the bloody castle down.
Something that he hadn't noticed back at that time, but Severus had.
Potter sighed and groaned softly, but there was no knowing what that reaction meant. He had long over taken off his dark shades; actually Snape only saw them again when the boy placed them on his coffee table when they went to the living room.
He also hadn't put on those ridiculous round spectacles of his, something that the Potions Master was silently relived for, but now he was rubbing his eyes as only someone who wore glasses for a long period of time did.
'The potion...' he said with a growling, yet soft, tone 'I was able to improve it... Strength it... Over the years... For being bitten at such a young age, his body wasn't fully grown... Neither was it already in development... As he is in his adolescence, his body chemicals started to go crazy... And so did the transformation process...'
'He's become unpredictable' Severus finished, thoughtfully.
Potter sent him a pained expression that Snape wouldn't be able to expect or decipher, even if he did care enough to do either one of those.
'In ways... He changes... Just like Lupin does... Same time even... But with him it's different...' he shook his head impatiently, his face had the same fierce determination Severus had seen only a few times 'The more mature his body becomes, the more savage he becomes when he transforms... It's really like his growth spurt is affecting every single nuance of his body...'
'The stronger the man, the stronger is the beast.'
Harry could have winced at the older man's nonchalant but again he couldn't agree more. It was that what was happening to Ernest, wasn't it?
'Something like that... At second year, my potion didn't get any response...' he focused on the empty cup on his hands, rolling it in his hands, before he continued his train of thoughts 'He became absolutely unintelligible; the pain was excruciating and drove him insane... And... It almost killed him more than once to transform...'
The ex-Death Eater went silent for a moment; there were some pieces that didn't quite fit in that puzzle. He didn't even realize that he was pacing in front of the couch he had been sat on when all of that started.
Harry was still looking down at the cup after he had almost let it fall for the second time, only catching it in time thanks to his natural Seeker reflexes. He actually liked that mug very much; Ginny had given him that cup at his 20th birthday.
It had a stag on it, trotting in circles over and over on the porcelain surface. It had been thoughtful, very special and beautiful. But then again that was exactly the kind of person Ginny Weasley was.
'Mr. Hamilton said you could overcome this defective point.'
The comment was even, low and slightly hoarse with annoyance but still pierced the silence rather uncomfortably.
Harry looked up and found Snape frowning irritated at him, as if he truly believed that he didn't have to have said anything, and Harry should have just cleared that point a long time ago.
Typical, he was annoyed because the comment meant a twisted recognition of Harry's abilities, even if he was merely repeating something someone else had said.
'I had a piece of his hair when I was teaching him the Polyjuice Potion...' he said slowly, as if waiting for a sudden attack 'At the same time that I was brewing his potion... I accidentally let his hair fall onto the wrong cauldron...'
To his own immense surprise, Severus didn't even bother to verbally abuse Potter.
'The wolfsbane adapted itself to his body.'
'Yes...' Harry said still very carefully 'It increased the amount of ingredients, to fit his body's necessity... With the months I had to change some of the ingredients too... Find stronger ones; make some alterations in the potion... And it had been working...'
'But is isn't anymore.'
Snape watched as Potter turned back to the window, the lights outside growing in number as the day was progressively ending.
'No... He's growing too fast, getting stronger too...' the Golden Boy sounded confused, obviously unable to decide if he should be pleased or not with his student's perfect health 'The transformation is becoming more and more violent, making him ruthless and unreasonable... He knows this... For the past few months he's made me chain him...'
Severus started; the younger one was now positively avoiding looking anywhere near him. Those green-eyes glued to the window. The older man waited for a better explanation but it never came.
'He's made you?' he asked as if he wanted to make sure he had heard it correctly.
Harry closed his eyes, sighing deeply, feeling his shoulder slump slightly before he got hold of himself and straightened again. His hands closed forcefully around his mug, his knuckles becoming white and achy.
'Yes...'
Severus didn't push because it was clear that Potter wouldn't say anything more on the subject.
Still, he had enough with the delaying and decided it was time they actually talked business. He sat back down on the couch, crossed his legs and entwined his fingers over his lap, his forefingers supporting his chin as he studied the youth with dejected interest and amusement.
'So you want me to brew Mr. Hamilton a new potion?'
Harry relaxed his hold on the mug unconsciously and slowly focused his attention back on Snape. He took in the other's current position and nonchalant behavior, but promised himself that he wouldn't let that affect him.
He's trying to goat you, Harry, he told himself, just like he always did.
He nodded.
'You're the only one who can discover a way... I'm not stupid... I'm not asking for cure, I know it's impossible... I just... I just don't want him to suffer so much... You could get something for Lupin, something strong enough to help him...' he trailed off for a moment before he reassumed his thoughts 'I'm not good enough to do anything for Ernest... The only time I actually achieved something it was because I made a mistake...' he smiled but it looked like a grimaced 'He needs someone who knows what they're doing... He can't afford to trust me to do the right mistake all the time...'
'I can't argue you with that' was all Severus allowed himself to say.
'I know...' Potter grinned unruffled 'I know...'
Snape nodded, clearly not focused in that moment anymore. Just like he had at the apothecary, Severus was now concentrated on everything he had heard so far.
Besides he knew that his silence unnerved the brat and that was always welcomed.
'You told me he's an efficient pupil.'
A hideous ear-to-ear smile bloomed on Potter's face, making him look even more like the deranged idiot that he was. His green eyes sparkled in a way that made Severus' lip curl instinctively, both at the sight of it and the memory it awoke.
But Harry didn't see any of that.
'The best' he beamed proud 'He actually brew the Polyjuice Potion at his first-year, in secret... He confessed as much when I dropped his hair in his potion... That was why I dropped his hair for that matter... And he won't tell me but I figure that wasn't the first time he had done it...'
'You believe so, huh?' came the soft reply, even though it was delivered rather plainly.
'Even Hermione had to study the potion for a long time before she attempted to brew it at our first year...' Harry said meaningfully with a chuckle 'Ernest knew all the ingredients precisely by heart...'
'I see.'
Severus wasn't at all participating fully of that conversation. That was so true that he hadn't even attempted to deduct house points for Potter's blunt hint for the destiny of some of many of the ingredients that mysteriously disappeared from his storage.
Harry realized that the Potions Master wasn't entirely paying attention at what they were saying, even though he could successfully answer and comment anything that was said. He was sure that he had never witnessed a moment like that with anyone, let alone with Severus Snape.
It was odd; it made him look unusual (for making something that most people couldn't – space out and not be obvious about it), and yet utterly normal, common, ordinary – human (for doing something that everyone could and did do).
Strangely enough, it bothered Harry greatly. He cleaned his throat and pushed himself from the window, siting on the armchair he kept in front of his couch, and therefore in front of the Potions Master.
'I know you don't have to be at the school to do any of this...' he started, trying to snap the older man out of his self-induced intellectual haze 'But I figure that if you spend all possible time next to him, or at least close enough to call him or me at any time... It'd be better to do all kinds of experiments and you could try everything...'
Severus blinked once; his eyes had started to sting lightly because he had been staring fixedly at the complex patterns of Potter's Persian rug. He then looked up to find the Boy Who Lived sat before him and try as he might, he couldn't remember seeing him getting there.
'Mr. Hamilton knows of this endeavor of yours?' he asked calmly, watching a shadow pass by the Golden Boy's face before he leaned back on his armchair and shook his head.
'No... And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell him...' Harry then added quickly at Snape's raised eyebrow 'I mean, that I'm asking you to come mostly because of him... I wouldn't want him to know about this... He's scared enough as it is about what's going on... And he'd just get the wrong message from it all...'
'Probably' he offered noncommittally.
Not really knowing why, Harry felt necessary to let a few things very clear before the Potions Master found fit to bite his head off or scream false accusations. It was a mystery why that hadn't happened so far.
He took a deep breath, reminding himself that it was worth it. Or at least, that it was for Ernest's sake.
'I swear I haven't gone after you, Snape, nor am I following you.' he earned a raised eyebrow 'But since our paths are connecting more ways than not for this past days... You're really the only one who can truly help Ernest... And I'm willing to ask you to do it...'
Silence fell between them again.
Harry waited for something, a hex maybe, and Severus just seemed too preoccupied with everything running in his head to even be nasty.
'Ask me' the older man echoed blankly.
'Yes' Potter nodded, relieved that the conversation was progressing, albeit slowly, to a good result 'We'll never get to be friends... And Merlin knows how much you despise me completely and that for some part of it; you even have your share of rightfulness... As so do I to dislike you fiercely...' he added quickly when he saw that Snape was about to jump at the opportunity to lash out, then he leaned forward and adopted a polite and reasonable tone 'But I really want you to ignore all of that, please don't let me or what you feel about me and other people get between you and Ernest. I wouldn't live with myself if I knew that I had been the cause of him losing his only chance. I'm willing to do anything you want, I'll leave Durmstrang if you want.'
Severus didn't say anything right away; he just analyzed the words for a moment. Had he heard it correctly? Was the Boy Who Lived so willing to dispose of his own job, a job he clearly enjoyed, for the sake of one adolescent?
Suddenly he was reminded of the way Ernest Hamilton looked at him at the Diagon Alley before the boy knew who he was. He also remembered the curious interaction between the self-acclaimed professor and the student, trying to add Potter's fierce desperation to make his mind on taking the position.
The ex-Death Eater was almost afraid to know what the equation could possibly because. But then again, he went back to the night of his exhibition and the way the Golden Boy had been so bluntly uncomfortable with Brown's lack of tact about their mutual friend's sexuality.
That allowed Severus to shake those former assumptions out of his mind and focus on the contemptuousness he had to inflict in his voice for his reply.
'You'll leave Dursmtrang?'
Potter nodded readily and without hesitation, clearly he had thought that over many times before.
'Surely. I know the idea of spending one year near me must irk you deeply, and if you want I'll simply leave' he interrupted himself, and for a fleeting moment Severus thought he had seen something akin to pain but then it was quickly dissipated 'I can find someone else to teach Dark Arts, if I talk to Blaise, he might go back and-'
Snape noticed the easiness with which Zabini's first name was uttered but didn't say anything on the matter.
Harry waited for the moment of truth. He didn't know what to think, or what to expect. The old Severus Snape he knew would decline his offer very violently. But then again, the Snape he had grown up with would never wait all this time to curse him and leave.
In fact, his old professor would never even be at his living room, talking to him for so long. Even with everything that was said, and done, nothing erased the fact that they were still having a tad civilized conversation.
Or at least, as civilized as they were capable of.
He watched as the man before him merely stared at his rug in silence as he had done many times since they got there. That wasn't the same man he remembered of. Harry never even suspected that one day he'd see Snape in anything else than his batty robes, or the terrible Azkaban uniform. Still, there he was, dressed mostly in black but nothing too out of the ordinary.
Nothing too wizarding.
Sure he wasn't close to be as casual with muggle clothes as Harry, but then again he had pretty much grown up in the muggle world and Snape's inclusion in that world was a very recent development.
And yet, the Potions Master seemed to be functioning rather smoothly in such an adverse environment.
'And what will you tell Mr. Hamilton?'
'What?'
Severus saw the way the annoying youth blinked repeatedly as if he had been caught staring or doing something he shouldn't have. But soon, the younger face had adopted that serene expression he had seen – and loathed – since they had met each other again.
What surprised him was the lack of challenge and irritation that used to burn in Potter's eyes whenever that happened. The boy sure had changed.
But that didn't mean Snape was about to make it easy for him, he never did and he never would. He rolled his eyes and sneer impatiently.
'You assured him that you'd be there for the next term.'
Harry's eyes widened ever so lightly in surprise at just remembering that fact, and more so for just being reminded of that by his former potions professor.
'I know...' he said sounding slightly confused 'But... Well... He'll understand...'
Snape waved his hand dismissively, making it clear that Potter's feeble attempt to answer his question was absolutely uncalled for.
Harry had always hated the aristocratic way the older man had always acted, mostly towards him. As if the Potions Master knew and had ever known that he was better than Harry, and he just was disgusted by the fact that Harry seemed unable to understand something so obvious.
He narrowed his eyes in warning but the convicted murder wasn't looking at him, his forefingers tapping musingly at his chin and his brow bearing the everlasting scowl.
Of all the things he could have said in that moment, his next words most certainly never crossed Harry Potter's mind and therefore they quite surprised him. But this time, the current Durmstrang's professor didn't let it show, he was coming around the fact that Severus Snape's new method of infuriating him was to stump him.
'Three times what I used to earn, you said?' was the slow, dejected drawl he heard.
'Yes...' was the smirking, knowing and quite too pleasant answer.
Harry gathered it was enough. Nothing was better to irritate a Slytherin than a happy Gryffindor.