..

It started innocently enough: Slughorn assigned a particularly tricky potion that was extremely time sensitive. If you did not add several ingredients in the right order within a 60 second window and stir correctly, the potion would fail. And everyone DID fail, including Hermione. Slughorn laughed jovially and asked everyone to try again over the weekend.

Harry asked Snape after Defense Against the Dark Arts for a live demonstration on Thursday, which he scoffed at. Harry was miffed until Snape made it clear that this scoff was actually an agreement, not a rejection. To his surprise, Hermione tried to get the potion right three more times, failing although following the book to a 'T.' Harry then asked Snape if he could possibly bring Hermione along, and to his utter amazement, came a 'fine.' At this point it almost seemed rude not to invite Draco, as he also needed to pass, and Draco was supposed to be Snape's favorite student anyway.

So now here they were, drinking Butterbeers in Snape's private quarters on a Thursday, potion already brewed and forgotten. Apparently, there was a very well-known typo in the current edition: you had to stir left, not right. Slughorn intentionally wanted to see who would work through it without getting frustrated. In short, a social experiment in which they all failed.

But now they were having a great time. Draco and Hermione's blood status debate was really keeping the conversation going. Perhaps Harry was sitting a little too close to what was supposed to be a professor, but neither of their guests seemed to notice the proximity.

"Of course blood status matters. That's like going to another country and saying their culture doesn't matter. What muggle-borns fail to understand is wizards have their own culture outside of magic. Sometimes it feels like you barge in, take the magic, and say 'hell with you and your culture, I'll just take this, thanks.'"

"Thank you for explaining that to me," said Hermione in a patient tone. "That helps me understand your point of view. It must feel like we're being very disrespectful."

"It does!" Draco said, misunderstanding her patient tone as actual agreement. "Of course, no one is… being intentional about it, but it's like Goblins. No one insults a Goblin, tries to take their magic, and then tell them their culture is bigoted."

"You're right. No one would do that. So purebloods are Goblins- got it."

"You know what I meant," Draco said, annoyed.

Harry laughed at their banter while Snape drank. What Draco said did make some sense. Wizards were forced into hiding and they were all very resentful of that. There were quite a few chips on people's shoulders, and it was interesting to have an open dialogue without Voldemort in the picture.

"Many muggles are just descendants of other wizards, we know that. For mud-" Hermione and Harry's eyes flashed. "-dled blood, I am curious what your linage is. There are spells to reveal blood relations. That's how pure-blood houses recognize heirs when their line dies off."

"Oh, is that true?" Hermione forced an uncomfortable smile. "Yes, who knows who I'm related to, and how far back. For all I know, I'm a Black too."

"No, not a Black…" Malfoy scowled. "There are houses known specifically for their charm work, no, I don't think so. Black has never been known for subtlety."

"Malfoy, as charming as I am, my lineage is the least interesting part about me."

Draco, who was leaning into Hermione without realizing it, straightened, thinking better of himself. "Of course." His head turned to dismiss the subject.

"But it's all History, isn't it?" Hermione brightened, "The ancient houses are powerhouses of history, keepers of spells long forgotten. It is said that that old pureblood libraries are packed with endless shelves of old books, some even in languages of ancestors long passed. Spells that would never be in the library or bookstores- or even Hogwarts. Specific magic that only the family uses. I can see why you'd want your house to be respected, you're akin to ancient magical historians."

"Yeah… that's true…" Draco decided, looking like he didn't care about the Malfoy's library. To him, his library might just be one of the many rooms in his house. Harry secretly wondered if Snape was jealous of that kind of luxury when he was younger.

"When Harry and I got our letters, we had no idea about magic. House-elves were a completely foreign concept to us. I bet there's all sorts of magic and customs I can't learn in a book because they're considered too simple, or just common knowledge." She turned to Harry. "Some of the spells Mrs. Weasley uses are completely foreign to me, and all they do is stir soup or chop onions!"

"Cooking is a wizard specialty all of its own," Snape cut in after staying silent for a while. "Don't be fooled by a knife chop or a simple stir, surely you know better than that, Miss Granger."

"Oh," Hermione looked abashed, "of course."

"Yes, wizard cooking is an art form. It's actually quite difficult." Draco leaned back, making a show of sounding impressive. "It's no wonder many wizards leave it to the house-elves. It's embarrassing for a pure-blood to be a bad cook. It's considered a 'tell' of poor skill. Like wands, magic can be expressed through food. There are some pretty famous Slytherins who have facilitated peace treaties just by bringing food and drink to negotiations."

"Really?" Hermione said, hearing the ring of truth. "That's not in History of Magic."

"It wouldn't be. History of Magic is full of the 'blunt axes' of change. You won't find the subtlety of food magic there."

And she was fascinated, "Tell me more."

"Uhhh," Draco's eyes rolled up, thinking. "Jocelyn the Busty, she was called. I think she had a mole… among other things. There are some tavern songs about her… vaguely related to the Malfoys, 600 years back? 650? I'm not sure. Because you might not know, cooking lessons are not offered at Hogwarts because it's considered a low hanging fruit for those who can simply learn from their mothers."

Harry looked over at Snape who seemed vaguely interested in their conversation. Perhaps Snape knew about "Jocelyn the Busty" and her curvaceous attempts in to feeding men into sense instead of war.

"Wow! Is there a book about this?"

Draco was not prepared for this question. There probably was one, but he looked like he could not produce it any more than Goyle could. "There might be one… at our Manor…" he finished lamely.

"Well, if it wouldn't anger your parents to lend a book to someone with muddled blood, I would love to see some of books from the Malfoy library. I'm assuming visiting is out of the question?"

Draco considered Hermione, unsure of this request. Suddenly he found himself the keeper of books and knowledge from the House of Malfoy, spanning generations. But mother wouldn't approve.

"Not wise, I think."

"Of course." She was very understanding.

Snape stood up as Hermione asked what kind of books were in their personal library, a question Draco comically could also not answer. Snape soon came back with a tray of tea, handing out four cups.

Hermione lost interest in Draco trying to remember the names of books he only ever glanced at, picking up her own cup, smelling it. Snape was drinking his and Harry lifted his cup too.

"Harry- don't!"

"What?"

"Harry, don't. Don't drink that. Put it down."

Draco looked at her, shocked by her outburst.

Harry lowered it from his lips. "Why?"

Her eyes flashed to Snape, who drank his, squinting at her.

"There's… he put something in there."

"What?" Harry said aghast. He looked at Snape, catching the small flash of anger as it passed over his face.

"No, he didn't," Draco corrected. "He wouldn't do that."

Snape did not deny anything, eyes switching from anger to a nervous glance at Harry.

"Harry, set your cup down," she demanded. Harry shot a look at her and then another panicked one at Snape who returned it back to him. Is it that bad you can't even lie about it? Where's your mask now? "What did you put in this?" Hermione demanded again in a low voice.

"I…"

They all stared at him.

"It's… nothing." It may have been the worse lie Snape ever gave in his life. Harry was reminded of Snape in the Pensive- a Hogwarts age student, not the man who lied to Voldemort for years.

"What did you put in this?" Hermione asked again, looking stern but alarmed while trying to be calm about it.

"It's nothing… really…" Snape said, a faint pleading in his voice. To lie now would just make him look guiltier.

"What did you put in it?" Harry asked firmly, looking him directly in the eyes. Draco and Hermione stared unflinchingly at him too.

"It's… I didn't put anything in it. It's not dangerous," he added hastily.

A long pause stretched between them. Here they were having a good time… and now this. Harry hated that he was pulling something now, and in front of company, no less. But… Snape SAID it wasn't dangerous so… Harry picked up the cup and drank it as if nothing happened. Hermione's lips parted slowly in disbelief. Draco watched, uncomfortable. Harry waited… and felt nothing.

"What is it?" Harry asked Snape conversationally, looking at the dregs in the cup.

"Draught of Connection… it amplifies the pre-existing positive memories of a gathering…"

Hermione breathed out, relieved.

"That's it?" Harry asked, searching him for the truth, zeroing in on him.

"That's it."

"Don't do that again," Harry said firmly. "We'll drink it, just tell us what it is."

"I…"

"We would have DRUNK IT. Don't lie to us- that was inappropriate." Snape did not cower but his eyes widened, alarmed at Harry's authoritative tone.

"Yes… fine… of course," Snape looked away.

"Is… is that all it is?" Hermione asked, looking into her tea and back at Snape who was now angry, ignoring all of them. He nodded slowly.

Draco looked down at his like it was poison, unsure whether to drink it.

After a very tense moment Hermione picked up her tea, looked at Harry, and drank a little not to be rude. Then they looked at Draco. Harry shrugged. Just do it. Draco drank, but only a sip.

Through his anger Harry reminded himself how hard it was for Snape to get people to like him. Not his skill sets- but him. No one exactly trusted him anymore, and this certainly didn't help. Maybe this was his own desperate attempt to ensure their evening went well. He didn't know much about Snape's personal life, but with Dumbledore gone, it was just McGonagall who had regular personal contact with him. Did Slughorn count? Completely unneeded, Harry thought.

The party was over. Draco and Hermione exchanged looks when Harry said he wanted to stay and 'discuss something with Snape.' Draco offered to walk Hermione back to her common room, which she refused. They left in the same direction anyway.

When the door closed, Harry warded the door himself and turned to Snape, who looked ready for what was about to happen.

"You're brilliant, you're spectacular, you're a walking dictionary- a wealth of knowledge, a human library. Why, why, WHY did you feel the need to do that?"

"I… I just… thought. …You weren't supposed to…" he spluttered not looking at him.

"I may be thick, but Hermione isn't. So don't try that again on her, and not on me, because now I'll be looking for it."

They made their way back through the classroom into the private chambers. Snape gave him the silent treatment on the couch. Maybe he was angry, maybe he was embarrassed- radiating the aura of wanting to be alone. In an awful way Harry wanted to comfort him after this pathetic failed attempt to solidify relationships prematurely, but that would be rewarding him for doing it.

"That. That's what's going to push me away," Harry decided out loud. "This… secrecy bullshit. She destroyed Horcruxes with me. I cut you as soon as you told me to. Just tell us what you're doing. We all know who you are, we all know what you've been through, we all trust you.I can take a hard truth. If you ever get the inclination to give me some weird potion, or do some weird spell on me, I want you to tell me outright. It's the decent thing to do."

Snape nodded but still refused to look at him. Harry was so angry he wanted to leave but things felt so unraveled at this point.

"Why did you feel the need to do that?" No answer. "What about this-" he opened his arms, gesturing. "Think of Slughorn- bursting through the door at a party, handing out goblets, 'here, lets drink to our friendship, the Draught of Connection or whatever, drink up, to our friendship and to our health!'" Harry raised an invisible goblet, doing his best impression.

"I'm not Slughorn."

"No… you're not. I wouldn't kiss Slughorn." Neither of them smiled. "We would have drunk it. You're not in school any more, I don't know what you're trying to prove."

Snape didn't seem like he appreciated this pep talk.

"Look," Harry tried a different tactic. "My entire life has been out of a nightmare. Everything has been terrible, except everything has also been amazing. I have all these… euphoric precious memories mixed in with... mixed in with… death. The people I love getting hurt. My own mistakes. Please, there is a reason I'm… in this room with you. I don't want to pretend everything is alright with my life. I don't want to face Dark wizards at work, just to come home… and just pretend everything is normal. There are going to be days where I just need silence, or I'll need a potion. I need that darkness." He made Snape look at him now. "I can take your idiosyncrasies, and your moods, AND your brilliance. I can take all of that. I can't do normal anymore- I don't want normal anymore. I want someone who understands and accepts unquestioningly what I've been through."

Snape listened. He nodded.

"Yeah?" Harry asked.

Snape nodded again.

"Right then. Hand that kettle over, won't you?"

Snape, surprised, passed over the kettle. Harry poured himself another cup. "This isn't love potion, is it?"

"And why would I give it to Draco?"

"Dunno… kinky though." Snape eyed him coldly as he drank. When he was done, he shuffled over to Snape who promptly ignored his closeness. "Promise me… promise me you won't give me another potion without telling me… that was a nasty surprise. In front of Hermione… of all people."

"Amortentia doesn't work."

"What?"

"Love potions. Amortentia doesn't work."

"Yeah?" Harry didn't know where this was going.

"You mentioned love potions. Amortentia- only fools use these thinking they can gain something," he whispered. "The Draught of Connection strengthens what is already there. It does not create fake anything, it simply takes the positive aspects of an experience, even if very little, and amplifies them. That's it. I would never… use… Amortentia." Snape almost said something important. "It wouldn't create love, so it would be pointless…" he continued, dancing around the subject of drugging someone. "But… if I WERE to use something like that…" he went on, he dared, he admitted… "It would be subtler… to use the Draught of Connection. It is gentler, takes time, and it is not fake."

Harry thought about this for a while. "Is this the first time you've given me this?"

The silence that followed spoke volumes. Harry did not know what to do with this wealth of information. Snape gave a shuddering sigh of resignation. "It is not a love potion, Potter, the Draught of Connection will not, and does not, make anyone more inclined to take their clothes off."

"… You just said you could use this potion repeatedly to create a false sense of… trust and companionship. I think it would."

Snape shot his face towards him. "Your wand was already cutting me open before you had a sip, so don't blame your bad decisions on me."

"I wasn't going to."

"It sounds like you were," he spat.

Harry had a lot to think about. He was angry, disappointed, and many other things. But he wasn't worried about the potion. Why was that?Surely if Snape was drugging him he wouldn't be telling him about it.

In the end, Snape promised not to give him another potion without telling him, but stayed silent when Harry demanded he didn't perform any sneaky spells on him. Eventually he gave up and thought this was a good enough compromise for one night, and although he was still annoyed, spent the next half an hour glued and locked to his mouth, reinforcing this new truce. By the time Harry was leaving he was pinned to the wall near the door, neck covered in bruises.

"I… I think we need some boundaries," Harry pointed out.

"What do we need boundaries for," Snape asked silkily, sounding like he meant it.

Harry received quite a bit of leg into his pelvis, which felt amazing, but the contact broke. He was kissed and shoved out the door, left wanting more. Somehow he lost tonight, in more ways than one, and all he wanted to do was go back.


Authors Note: The very explicit version of this fic hosted on the AO3 website. It's complete, a whopping 200k, AND it has chapter title illustrations. Head to AO3 and search this story to continue reading now.