Note: I do not own Harry Potter.
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CHAPTER THREE
Tobias was sitting in the rocking chair by the fire, and he watched Harry like a hungry vulture as the teenager descended the stairs.
"Don't get too many guests here." the old man grumbled. "Don't expect much."
"It's loads better than staying with my aunt and uncle." Harry offered, crossing the room to sit on the sofa. He sneezed a bit as a cloud of dust rose - apparently neither Snape nor his father used or cleaned the sofa very often.
"So ye say." Tobias stretched and turned his calculating gaze to the mantlepiece above the hearth, where a statue of an angel stood, holding an orb that glowed bright green. He sighed, and reached into his shirt pocket, digging out a worn pack of cigarettes. Thick fingers carelessly shook one of the cigarettes out, and stuffed the filter end into his mouth before retrieving a lighter from the same pocket. "Boy's in 'is ma's lab. Ye probably won't see 'im til tomorrow."
"Oh..."
It was difficult to keep the disappointment from his voice. Harry wanted to ask Snape about his mother, wanted to know why no one had ever told him before, that Snape had been friends with Lily throughout their childhood, even before their days at Hogwarts.
"There's food in the cubby if yer hungry."
Shaking his head, Harry offered the old man a small smile. "I'm not. Thanks."
An uncomfortable silence fell between them, leaving Harry to stare at the floor while Tobias puffed rather obsessively on his cigarette. When at last Harry thought he'd go mad from tedium, Tobias made to stand.
It was then that Harry noticed that Snape's father walked with a very pronounced limp, favoring his right leg. He limped over to one of the numerous bookshelves and removed a deck of cards.
"D'ye know war?"
"I-I'm sorry?" Stammaring, Harry felt the blood drain from his face. Surely the man wasn't asking about the continual battle against Voldemort?
"Ye know. Card game. War."
A stream of air escaped his lips as Harry sighed in relief. "Sorry. Yeah, I know it."
Tobias tossed the deck of cards on the coffee table in front of Harry, and pulled the rocking chair closer. "Indulge an ol' man won't ye?"
Harry dealt the cards, and placed his first card on the table. King of Hearts.
"If you don't mind my asking sir," he ventured, "is the Professor's mother..."
"Dead?" Tobias asked, frowning as he placed his own card on the table. Two of Spades. "She'd 'ave to 'ave a heart for tha' to 'appen."
"I'm sorry." Harry took both cards and placed them off to his right, not quite certain whether he was apologizing for having won the first round, or for Tobias' apparent falling out with Snape's mother.
"No need fer 'sorry.' Like the boy said, 't was a long time ago." He threw down an Eight of Clubs, winning Harry's Five of Diamonds. "'Sides, we had a few good years 'tween us."
Four more rounds passed in silence, with Harry afraid to press Tobias further. He didn't want to risk upsetting the old man - for all he knew, Snape's temper had been inherited from his father.
"Yer living with yer aunt and uncle, eh?" Tobias inquired. "What 'appened to yer parents?"
Caught off guard, Harry put down his card with a shaking hand. "They died, when I was really little."
Calculating black eyes were on him then, searching his face. "I'm sorry."
"Not your fault." Harry shrugged. "I don't remember much of them, so there's little to miss I guess."
Except that there was much more than a little to miss. His parents deaths had left a crater in his life that Sirius had been so desperately willing to fill. Parents could never be replaced, though, and Sirius was dead. The most mothering memory he had of Aunt Petunia had been days earlier, when she had actually answered Harry's curiosity. It just wasn't the same.
"Yer a bad liar." Tobias snorted. "An' some might argue tha' ye've got the best of both worlds."
Harry had no doubt that the man was speaking of his son, Snape.
"I don't see how. I'll never have a memory of my mum tucking me in, or my dad telling me how great I did during a Quidditch match."
"Tragic, yes." Tobias nodded, playing his own card. "But... ye'll never know wha' it's like to 'ave yer parents angry with you. How it'd feel to 'ave yer da punish ye. Ye'll never know their disappointment."
Recalling the brief glimpse of Snape's childhood from the solitary moment he had managed to Occlude, Harry thought he might understand what Tobias was saying. Snape had witnessed his parents argue, lived through the pain of his mother's abandoning him to his father. Any illusions about his parents and their marriage had been shattered from a young age.
Before he could formulate a question, Harry's stomach decided to growl loudly.
"Guess it's getting t'be abou' tha' time of day." The old man mumbled around his cigarette, ignorant of the ashes that fell from the tip to land on his worn trousers. "Let's see if I remember my way 'round the stove."
Tobias limped heavily into the kitchen, abandoning his cards on the coffee table. Harry followed suit, watching as Snape's father fumbled around several cupboards in search of something edible.
"Beans, beans, more beans!" came an amused mutter. "Tell me, d'ye even like beans?"
"I've had much worse." Harry replied, thinking of the only time he'd ever had to endure his aunt's hopeless attempts at cooking. There wasn't much that could go wrong when cooking beans.
"Beans i' is then." The can was removed, contents poured into the cast iron pot and heated carefully. Harry sat attentively at the wooden table, watching as Snape's father stirred the beans one-handed, and wondered if he ever would have experienced such a thing were his own grandparents alive to take care of him, and not Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.
"Isn't this a sight," Snape drawled, suddenly standing in the doorframe. "Finally learned to boil something in your old age?"
"There's plenty for ye if ye wan' some." Tobias replied evenly.
Snape shooed his father away from the pot, allowing his father to sit as he spooned beans into two bowls. "How many times must I tell you not to smoke over food? You get ash everywhere!"
Harry murmured his thanks as Snape set one bowl in front of him, and watched as the second was placed in front of his father.
"Wouldn't mind giving up the smokes if ye'd le' me have a drink in peace now an' then!" Tobias growled.
Fire leapt into Snape's eyes, a look Harry had seen once before, right after being caught in Snape's penseive. He jumped as Snape slammed his hands palm-down on the table, glaring at his father, who glared right back.
"Have I been uncharitable, old man? Have I been unreasonable, hm?" Snape pondered silkily. "Who is it that makes your meals, who sees to your needs? I've given you far more than you deserve! Better people than I would have left you to rot!"
"Ha! As if ye've someplace else t' go!" Tobias laughed. "Ye're the one tha' showed up on my doorstep! I didn' have to le' ye in!"
The color drained out of Snape's face, and Harry could see him visibly waver. His hands balled into fists, and trembled at his sides.
"Don' think ye're doing me any favors, boy!" Tobias was huffing in his fury, black eyes bright with hellish fire behind them. "I did well fer myself before I ever met yer mum, and I did jus' fine before you came crawling back!"
Snape's black eyes flickered from Harry to his father. In his experience, Harry could tell that Snape wanted verbally destroy his father, maybe even throw a chair across the room, but something was holding the older wizard back. It wasn't quite fear, or at least, not a fear of Tobias. Perhaps he feared that Harry would hear something embarassing. Whatever the case, Snape huffed and turned on his heel, leaving the room without a word. The sound of his shoes on the stairs reached Harry's ears.
Tobias had relaxed in his chair, and was glaring down at his bowl.
No longer feeling hungry, Harry left the table. Homework seemed much safer than dealing with Snape, or his father.
Once he was safely inside his room, Harry sat down at the small desk and stared at his Potions text. Would his entire summer be this tense? How could Dumbledore expect him to learn Occlumency in this environment?
As his frustration boiled, Harry decided to write a letter to the only people who would understand. Ron and Hermione might not be able to do more than sympathize with him, but at least they would know what he was feeling, and try to make him feel better. He wrote about his summer, finding his mother's childhood photographs in his aunt's closet, going to Spinner's End, and watching the increasingly violent outbursts between Snape and his father. When at last he was finished, he went to the window and opened it. Hedwig flew down from a nearby tree, and he tied the parchment to her leg.
"You know where to go, girl." he murmured, offering her a treat.
Hedwig hooted once before taking off, flying into the night. Harry sat on the bed and stared at the door, wondering what the morning would bring.