Thank you to that guest review in chapter 5! I really appreciate any and all feedback. Oh, and, btw, for future reference, my time zone is CET. So, if I say I'll upload at a certain date or time, keep that in mind.

ALSO! I can now post on AO3! I'll try to upload these nine chapters there today(if I figure out how) and will continue uploading this story bothe on and ao3!

Anyways, here's chapter 9 — enjoy!

CH.9 - To Rectify A Situation

The next morning, Harry got dressed — this time mindful of picking his cleanest pair of jeans and shirt to avoid another chat like yesterday's with Snape — and went down to breakfast. He stifled a groan from his sore backside from having fallen asleep on the window seat again.

Honestly, Harry, you've got a huge, comfy bed; fall asleep there and not at your desk or the window seat, he chided himself.

As Harry made his way down for breakfast the next morning, he was still fuming about yesterday. After leaving the sitting room after their lesson that day, Harry had made a beeline to his room upstairs and refused to come out. It was childish, but the last thing he wanted to do was face Snape again after that. So even though it meant missing dinner that evening, Harry had stayed. He wouldn't starve to death from missing one meal. Hell, he could live without food for weeks!

He would've had breakfast in his room as well, but Nibby had warned him that Snape had a thing for etiquette, and the last thing Harry needed was an irate, ex-Death Eater ranting about that. Yesterday's rant was enough.

How dare Snape try and pry for information like that! What did it matter to him if Harry's clothes were torn or old or five sizes too big or something? Oh, right, he probably just doesn't want him strutting the halls of Prince Manor looking like a peasant. Must be embarrassing for him.

Ever since he'd parted with the Dursleys when they went into hiding, Harry just wanted to forget about them. Sure, some of his nightmares were still visited by Uncle Vernon on occasion, but that only made Harry more determined to forget about them.

Alas, Snape had resurfaced some unpleasant memories for him, resulting in more nightmares.

When Harry entered the dining hall, he found Snape there — as usual — sipping from his cup and reading a newspaper. Harry tried to squint at the title as he edged closer to his seat, but Snape noticed this, and quickly vanished it with a flick of his wrist.

Neither greeted the other. Harry sat himself down and poured himself some much needed coffee as he felt the dark gaze following him. Both were silent for a few minutes, but curiosity got the better of Harry.

"Why did you vanish the paper?" asked Harry suspiciously.

Snape quirked an eyebrow at him. "Given your past experiences, I only figured you wouldn't want to come within two feet of the Daily Prophet."

Harry ignored this. "Anything I should know?" he asked rather coldly. "I know there is, so don't even think about lying!"

Snape seemed to think over his answer, giving Harry an odd look. "There has been a Death Eater attack," he stated distastefully.

"What!?" Blood began to pound in Harry's ears. "What do you mean?" he demanded, subconsciously grabbing the tablecloth with his hands. He couldn't stand the thought of more casualties. Innocent casualties.

"Calm down, you foolish boy!" ordered Snape, watching Harry intently, his eyebrows furrowed. "I will tell you more on the matter once you've calmed yourself, and no sooner."

Harry shot him a glare, but forced himself to take a few deep breaths. A few moments of silence passed, "Sorry, sir. Can you please tell me more?" he said in his calmest voice, jaw strained.

"Very well," conceded Snape, taking a sip of his coffee. "Apparently, the leftover Death Eaters and quite a few Azkaban criminals have been ganging up and attacking both wizarding and muggle families. Their attack pattern appears to be rather random, at the moment."

A squid squirmed in Harry's stomach as he listened with horror.

"As we speak," Snape continued, "the Ministry is doing everything within their power to track down the remaining followers of the Dark Lord and sentence them to Azkaban. They strongly advise caution and vigilance at all times, of course," he drawled with obvious disdain in his voice at the last part,

Harry thought he was going to throw up. More innocent people kept on suffering at the remains of Voldemort's army, even though the war was over. And the victims could be anyone on the street…

Harry did throw up.

Luckily, Snape had foreseen this, because when Harry wiped his mouth with a napkin, Snape passed him a vial of minty-coloured potion. "Drink. It's a stomach soother mixed with an Anti-Nausea Potion."

For once, Harry accepted it gratefully and without complaint. He uncorked the vial and downed the liquid in one go, at the same instant as Snape Scourgify-ed the vomit from the floor with his wand. Immediately, Harry felt loads better, but his cheeks were burning from embarrassment.

Looking back at Snape, Harry felt mortified! Had he really just thrown up in front of Snape? Oh, Merlin! "Sorry, sir," Harry apologised, his face beet-red. "And umm…thanks for the potion."

Snape waved a negligible hand. "Don't apologise for something you cannot control, Potter," he said dismissively. Then his expression softened, by just a fraction, to an almost concerned look. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, wiping the remains with his napkin off of his lips. He took a deep, bracing breath. "When will all of this shite just end already?" he flung his head back exasperatedly, covering his eyes with one hand.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Potter," replied Snape wearily. "I thought I would spare you from the-less-than-pleasant news and avoid a scene such as this one… "

Harry crossed his eyes and glared. "I want you to know something about me, sir: I hate being kept in the dark. I'm not seven! And so what if I threw up? You can't just hide everything away from me."

"It is no longer any of your business. You had been prophesied to defeat the Dark Lord, not his army," retorted Snape.

Harry's ears reddened, this time of anger. "Oh, so you're saying I should just lounge around on my backside while more innocent people are being tortured?" he sneered, something Harry almost never did. Being around Snape so much must be rubbing off on him.

Snape looked at him crossly. "You are being melodramatic, Potter. Do not look at it that way. Like I said — it is not your responsibility. You've defeated the Dark Lord, tus putting an end to the war; that's more than sufficient, not even considering what tortures you've been put through for nearly half your life."

Harry wanted to argue, but decided against it. Snape just couldn't and would never understand. Yes, Snape did have a point there, but it was because of Harry that this war even happened in the first place. It was Harry's fault that Voldemort had been resurrected, it was Harry's fault that Cedric and Sirius had died. It was Harry's fault the battle had taken place at Hogwarts…

So, so, so many had died, and now those Death Eaters were re-grouping and attacking more people…

Harry's throat was starting to feel tight, so he smartly shut his trap rose from his seat, all appetite gone. It would be fruitless to try and argue with Snape on this. No-one would ever be able to understand. No-one.

He was just in the doorway when Snape called after him. "I expect your presence in the sitting room by four this afternoon," he said shortly. Harry heard, but showed no sign of acknowledgment, and left.


"Cutting it close, Mr. Potter," Snape commented As Harry entered the sitting room. He had been in the library the whole time, and had lost track of time. He had been trying to pick a topic to do research on for Snape's weekly evaluation of him.

"I am on time, though," pointed out Harry, gesturing at a clock on the mantelpiece, the hands of which pointed to 15:59 in roman numerals.

"Mhm."

Suddenly, green fires erupted in the fireplace, the unmistakable swooshing of the floo. Harry watched in shock as a short wizard with a monocle and stylish indigo robes stepped into the sitting room. His robes were styled with peacock feather designs, and he had greying hair and a short goatee.

Harry was too stunned to speak. What was the man doing here!?

"Severus, old friend!" greeted the wizard warmly in a posh accent, extending his hand to Snape.

"Prinnick," greeted Snape politely, shaking the wizard's hand. "Thank you for coming."

Prinnick beamed. "Of course, Severus! Anything for you!"

Snape nodded and turned slightly to face Harry. "This is Mr. Potter, Prinnick," Snape gestured with his hand at Harry.

Prinnick's eyes lit up like light bulbs. "By Merlin's robes, Severus!" He touched the back of his hand to his forehead as if overwhelmed. "When you told me you had a customer for me, I didn't think it would be THE Harry Potter!"

The short man crossed the distance between them in a few steps and grabbed Harry's hand, shaking it so vigorously that he thought it was going to fall off. "It's an honour to meet you, Mr. Potter!"

Finally having regained his voice, Harry replied awkwardly, "Er…Yeah — I mean, Yes, It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Prinnick." When Prinnick finally let go of his hand, Harry turned to Snape. "Sir, what's going on? What did he mean by 'customer'?"

Snape smirked wolfishly. "Mr. Prinnick, here, is a good acquaintance of mine, and is willing to help rectify your wardrobe situation," he said matter-of-factly.

"What!?"

But Snape cut him off before he could utter another word. "Mr. Potter, you will have a say in some things, but this is not one of them. You will stay quiet and you will obey Mr. Prinnick's orders because I am more than capable of putting a silencing spell and a sticking charm on you."

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, but closed it shut again when Snape gave him a look that said 'I dare you'. Somehow, he knew Snape would make good on his threat.

"Shall we, then?" Before Harry could reply, Prinich exuberantly grabbed Harry by the wrist and dragged him to the centre of the room. Harry was still too stunned to speak. Without warning, a magical measuring tape appeared mid-air, and started attacking — no, measuring — Harry, while a charmed quill took notes on a piece of parchment, the old wizard muttering to himself quietly whilst moving around Harry like a wolf that was about to eat its prey.

"My, oh, my. Tsk tsk tsk. No, no, this won't do at all. What will he need, Severus?" Prinnick inquired, a disgusted look on his face.

With another wolfish grin at Harry, Snape began. "A better question would be what he will not need, I'm afraid. Several pairs of socks and undergarments, five plain T-shirts and four pairs of jeans — two blue, two black. Several button-up shirts and three pairs of trousers — one navy blue, black and grey. Two light cardigans and several jumpers. A suit — navy blue—, and two sets of pyjamas. Also, throw in a bathrobe or two while you're at it. Oh, add two pairs of trainers, and a pair of dragonhide boots."

Harry stood stock-still, gaping at Snape in shock, his voice lost. How did he say all of that in one breath?

Prinnick kept bobbing his head as his charmed quill scratched furiously at the parchment. "Splendid!" he exclaimed, splaying his hands in delight. "And the fabric quality?"

Harry finally found his voice. "Sir—"

"Shut it, Potter!" Snape snapped, shutting Harry up successfully. Harry was at a loss for what to do. How was he going to break it to Snape that he didn't have enough money with him?

"The same as my own," Snape replied.

"Splendid, splendid, my boys!" He trotted back over to Snape. "That'll be—"

But Harry never got to hear the sum for all the clothes, because at that moment, Snape cast a silencing charm around them.

Harry's frustration grew. How could they just pretend that Harry wasn't there? How was he supposed to pay for all that if he couldn't even hear—

Oh.

Oh, Merlin.

NO…!

Harry, for the third time in the last fifteen minutes, was stunned into silence. But no, he thought, it couldn't be! Snape would never…Why would…Would he? Why!? No — it wasn't possible.

Yet, looking back over at the two wizards under the silencing spell, Harry's eyes widened as Prinnick handed over the longest receipt he had ever seen in his life to Severus, who took it without even so much as glancing at it!

A moment later, the silencing spell was lifted, and Harry heard Prinnick say, "Happy to help an old friend, Severus! Expect your purchases within five minutes." Prinnick waved a cheerful goodbye at Harry, and vanished through the floo, leaving the two wizards alone.

Harry wasted no time.

"Snape! Why would you — How did you — How did he…?" Harry was flailing his arms everywhere as he rambled nonsense.

"Calm down before you hyperventilate, Potter," Snape drawled in a mock calming voice. "Now, I believe the appropriate response would be 'Thank you, sir, for providing me with something my so-called bloody 'relatives' could not'."

"I..I just don't understand, sir… Why would you do this?" he asked, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Snape sighed. "Because, Mr. Potter, I will not have you strutting around as the saviour of the entire bloody world in nothing but rags," Snape spat, though his vitriol not directed at Harry, for oncel. "Your mother would be rolling in her grave if she ever knew that you were deprived of such a basic necessity by her own sister and your aunt!" he snarled nastily as he began pacing the length of the room, his robes billowing angrily behind him.

Was Snape angry on…Harry's behalf? As much as Harry refused to believe it, a small part of him thought overwise. And, turns out, Harry had been right — Snape was just embarrassed of him.

Before either could say anything else, dozens of neatly stacked clothes appeared on multiple couches and armchairs. Harry gaped and moved cautiously towards them. Was this really all for him? Harry gingerly picked up a blue and white striped shirt and began examining it closely, savouring the moment. Someone did this…for him!

"Sir…you really didn't have to…" Harry finally choked out, hating the way his voice sounded so hoarse. "I can pay you back…"

Snape shook his head. "You are correct there, Mr. Potter — I didn't have to; I wanted to." Snape pointed out. "And I will not be accepting a single knut from you. I have enough wealth to get me through this lifetime and even the one following."

Harry just stood there, looking at all of HIS new clothes, clutching the shirt close to his chest as if it were a lifeline. This was surreal! And to think Snape, of all people…

The man cleared his throat. "Why don't you take all of your new clothes upstairs?" It wasn't a suggestion.

His legs half numb, Harry pulled his wand out and cast a Wingardium Leviosa to make the clothes hover behind him. Before leaving, Harry turned around to look at Snape, who gave him the smallest reassuring nod, but reassuring nonetheless.

"Thank you, sir." Harry smiled gratefully at Snape and left for his room, his new clothes hovering behind him.

This was another one of those older chapters I had written like half a year ago, so it might've been a bit OOC of Sev. CH. 10 comming tomorow, and I'll be uploading these nine chapters on ao3 sometime today. Tell me what you think, so far!