Here's chapter twenty four! Not much to say, excpet that this probably isn't the best of my chapters. Sill, I have decided to upload it. Hope you like it:)
At exactly 10:00 the next morning, three soft knocks sounded on the door to Severus' lab. The Potions Master noted with amusement his ex-student's punctuation, shaking his head with a sigh, and called P– Harry to come in. The door opened to reveal the green-eyed seventeen year-old.
"Morning, professor," greeted the boy casually, a hint of mock in his tone, as if they were back to being professor and student, and diligently stepped inside. Severus smirked inwardly, rolling his eyes.
"Likewise, Mr. Potter, although, unless you are on some muggle drug, I see no meritful reason for you to be as cheerful over a detention," he remarked dryly, and showed Potter over to a corner of the chilly, dark lab, where a hefty mountain of potion-stained pauldrons stood by a sink. As Severus silently conjured a pair of dragonhide protective gloves for him, Harry replied.
"Oh, right. Sorry." Instantly, he became more subdued, clearly forced, but then bursted out laughing. "Sorry, sir, it's only that this situation is kind of ridiculous," he choked out, leaning against the wall.
Severus scowled at the Gryffindor's audacity. "Care to enlighten me as to how you find this situation amusing?" He was surprised by Potter's sudden lift of mood, given the news they had received over breakfast.
"Well, we're no longer professor and student," he pointed out, "And I've just defeated the Darkest wizard of the century a month ago, AND I was tortured by Death Eaters a few days ago… Yet, somehow, I'm still in detention?" He shook his head in amusement, and ignored Severus' glare. "Some people never change, I guess."
"Well, unfortunately for you, the 'bloody hero of the world' card has never worked with me," Severus reminded smugly. "Now, enough dawdling. You've a detention to fulfil, and I've work to get done. Get to scrubbing, O, insufferable Saviour of Wizardkind."
Thankfully Harry snorted and got right to work without a word of defiance.
As Harry scrubbed dutifully, Severus brewed a potion for the infirmary, basking in the pungent scent of various ingredients and the purple fumes his potion was emitting. The Potions Master's each movement was precise, careful, and well-measured. It was his reprieve from many of his troubles, one of the few things that had kept him sane throughout his life as a spy.
As he worked, Severus absently compared the currently scrubbing Potter to Hogwarts student Potter he'd known all these years. The boy was much more subdued and compliant now than he had been at school…or had that just been Severus' blinded prejudice towards the boy at that time?
Since recent revelations, he'd come to reconsider all of his initial perceptions of Harry Potter. Last night had been… revealing, to say the least, and just thinking about it made his head hurt.
The only sounds in the damp lab were the bubbling of the potion, and the Gryffindor scrubbing the cauldrons with a metal sponge. The boy was unusually quiet compared to the mood he'd entered the lab in, and Severus knew it was due to the headline in the Daily Prophet from earlier.
Just the previous night, five wizards and two muggles were killed in a small village not far from Godric's Hollow, their bodies found near a small, muggle campsite near the Forest of Dean. Their pattern seemed random, but their victims were either muggleborns, half-bloods, or 'blood traitors'. Well, no surprise there, he thought bitterly.
Severus had contemplated hiding the Daily Prophet from Harry when he first read the news, but Potter had been adamant on reading the morning's paper, so Severus had relented. Potter had only managed to read about halfway through the article when he thrust the paper down at the table face-down, then took a big swig of his coffee, grimmancing, but saying nothing.
It was evident that there was a dangerous potion brewing inside the boy, threatening to overflow from the anger and frustration. And, as the saying went, 'emotion brews disaster'. Severus didn't know how Harry had passed the remainder of the time before his detention with him, since he had retreated down to his lab to get started on brewing, but he would bet his vault that the boy had succumbed to brooding over the depressing news and thinking up ways the attack was his fault.
Oh, they had discussed this topic just the previous night. Alas, as Severus well knew, guilt was often a permanent scar, an internal one that is difficult to rid of, if at all possible.
This made Severus all the more desperate for Harry to accept his offer of help. He had no way of stopping the foolish Gryffindor from doing as he pleased as he was an adult, too, but helping him would allow Severus to keep an eye on the boy, whom he'd sworn to protect.
The two wizards continued to work in silence, both enveloped in their thoughts. Not twenty minutes later, Harry announced that he was finished, wiping his hands dry on a clean towel.
"Are there any more cauldrons?" he asked, looking around curiously.
At first, Severus was certain that there was no possible way that Harry could have scrubbed fifteen cauldrons clean in such a short span of time, but was internally gobsmacked when the boy presented him the neatly stacked, spotless cauldrons. His eyes darted from the completed task to the accomplisher suspiciously, and then pinned him with a knowing look.
"I wasn't made aware that magic is now acceptable during detentions all of a sudden," Severus drawled testily, arching an eyebrow.
"I didn't use magic." denied Harry, sounding a little affronted and holding up his hands in mock surrender.
"Well, I highly doubt that even Nibby would be able to clean half of that stack in the span of twenty minutes," Severus pressed, arms crossed.
Harry shrugged his shoulders and shoved his hands into his back jeans pockets. "Doubt what you want, sir. I didn't use any magic," he repeated, growing impatient. "You would be surprised if I told you that I did this exact sort of thing at the Dursleys all the time."
Severus hadn't expected such an explanation. He wasn't sure how to reply to that, but it made him all the curious about Lily's sister's family, and how they had treated the saviour of the Wizarding World all those years. It made him grow… curious, and perhaps a little wound up at what Harry was saying. Putting two and two together, it was clear that Harry hadn't been a 'spoiled prince' over at his relatives'.
Before Severus could inquire, however, Harry beat him to it, changing the subject. "Is there anything else you want me to help you with, sir?" He asked, glancing around the dimly-lit, stone room.
Severus received the unvoiced request to abandon the subject of his relatives, and Severus compiled only out of pure empathy, remembering himself at the boy's age whenever a rare soul would inquire about his home situation.
Thus, he considered Harry for a moment before showing him to the ingredient storeroom at the back of the room, tasking him with reorganising anything that was out of place in alphabetical order. All of his herbs and ingredients were always well-organised in their respective places, but sometimes, a jar or two would get misplaced if the Potions Master was in a rush.
To Severus' surprise, the boy nodded his head without argument, shrugging his shoulders slightly at the sight of all the jars and containers in the small shelved space, and set to work with a determined look on his face.
Severus went back to work on his potion for the next half hour…His potion was now just the right shade of midnight blue and was shimmering from the recently added powdered unicorn horn, when Harry broke the comfortable silence.
"Sir?" he called, peering out of the storeroom and holding a small, blue leather pouch in one hand.
"Po– Harry?" Severus returned, looking up from his work. It was still foreign for him to use the boy's first name.
"What's the difference between crushed and powdered dried lionfish spines?" was his out-of-the-blue question, catching the Potions Master a little off-guard. "I'd read somewhere that in some potions, crushed spines are preferable over powdered ones, but sometimes the recipe leaves the choice to you," he elaborated.
Severus' whole attention was now on Harry, searching the younger face for any sign of a sneer or hidden sarcasm, but was surprised to see only pure curiosity in the emerald green eyes, which were looking inside the small pouch, inside which were presumably said dried Lionfish spines. Six years of magical education, and the boy is suddenly interested in the subject? was Severus' puzzled though.
Adopting his lecture tone, Severus launched into an explanation: "When powdered, the spines add a thicker consistency to your potion, at the same time strengthening the other ingredients in it. Crushed spines, on the other hand, aren't as fine, thus not changing the consistency, nor strengthening the ingredients. It depends on the nature of the potion you are brewing."
He paused to judge Harry's reaction, and was surprised when the boy nodded his head in understanding.
"In some rare cases, the recipe's other ingredients are so strong and concentrated that it makes little to no difference whether the spines are crushed or powdered."
Severus finished his explanation with a small fond smile. He loved the fine art that was Potions Brewing, which is one of the select few reasons why he had put up with those dunderheads as Potions Master in the first place.
Harry had a thoughtful look about his face, as if mulling over what Severus had just told him. What Harry said after a moment surprised Severus even further.
"It's interesting."
Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy in front of him. "Who are you, and what have you done to Harry Potter?" He deadpanned, feigning concern.
Harry laughed and shrugged his shoulders, leaning sideways against the doorframe. "Dunno, sir." He played along. "For all you know, I could be a Polyjuiced imposter." He feigned a serious voice. When Severus arched an amused eyebrow, P– Harry dropped the act.
"I've always found potions interesting, s' just…Well, the class isn't exactly pleasant when your professor is prejudiced against you," he admitted in a low voice, tossing the blue leather pouch from one hand to the other.
A pang of guilt settled at the bottom of Severus' stomach at Harry's admission. Could it be that the boy had inherited Lily's passion for potions, only to have it been drowned by Severus' cruel taunts and remarks? The thought hit him like a bucket of ice water.
He reminisced over the days when he and Lily had shared the same passion and talent for the subject; it had often been one of their favourite topics to discuss. What would she say to Severus if she were here now? After all, Severus as good as crushed a small part of Lily Potter in her son.
"Perhaps we can remedy that now." Severus said slowly, turning his attention back to his potion, which he quickly put on a stasis spell. The ladle started mixing the now lighter blue liquid counterclockwise.
Severus, brushing the detention aside, beckoned Harry over to his workstation. Tossing the pouch of dried lionfish spines on the wooden table, Harry began observing the Potions Master's work of mincing some mandrake root.
"You may retrieve the clover honey from the storeroom. Pour exactly two pipet-fulls of it into the potion," Severus instructed, keeping his tone even and tossing the minced mandrake root into the simmering cauldron.
Harry hesitated for only a moment, but didn't question him. Had Severus looked up in time, he wouldn't have missed the small smile tugging at his lips. The boy quickly retrieved the small jar of the golden-yellow syrup, and Severus stepped aside to give Harry room to work, silently observing the boy as he carefully squeezed the pipet in the honey, and added it twice to the potion.
Severus barely contained his pleased smile when Harry looked in awe at the potion which was now changing its colours from a light blue to lilac, magenta, and then finally a gradient of fluorescent orange and yellow.
As the ladle changed its stirring to clockwise, Severus jumped into his lecture mode once again.
"Clover honey in particular contains various vitamins and minerals and offers powerful antibacterial and anti-inflammatory benefits, "he explained, screwing the lid back on the jar and setting it aside. Harry leaned against the table on his elbows, looking at Severus attentively.
"In the muggle world," the Potions Master continued passionately, "Honey is commonly used in cold and cough medicines and various home remedies due to its unique health-promoting properties. In potion brewing, honey can be found in almost every medicinal potion, which enhances the other ingredients and boosts their potency."
Harry's eyes held intrigue. "What's the potion? Harry asked, turning back to the orange fume-emitting caudron.
"Mandrake Restorative Draught," Severus answered.
"What's that?" Harry asked again, curiously pointing with his finger at a silver dish with small blood-red berries in it.
Severus internally beamed but kept his expression schooled. No one had ever listened so intently to Severus' explanations on potion ingredients or the subject in general, let alone posed questions. The dunderheads at Hogwarts had never really bothered with the subject, save for a select few who found the art interesting at best.
And to think that Lily's passion had been passed down to her son… that it hadn't been lost.
Only Lily had ever listened to Severus rant relentlessly about the different properties of rare ingredients and their uses, and would portray sincere curiosity. There really was more of Lily than James bloody Potter in the boy, Severus mused to himself.
Harry's question had led to follow-up questions, and soon enough the boy's 'detention' with the Potions Master had turned into a full-on Potions lesson. From boom berries to dragon scales, Severus passionately tutored Harry, who seemed to be absorbing his every word.
In no time at all, the potion was complete, and Harry was helping Severus bottle it up into small, empty flasks and carefully storing them in a wooden crate with a handle to be carried in.
"Earlier, you'd mentioned that you found the class unpleasant, yet not the subject." Severus commented. "Care to elaborate?"
Wiping his hands on a clean rag, Harry leaned against the table, a small shrug tugging at his lips. "Well, there are many classes which I hate, but enjoy the subject, and vice versa," explained Harry. "Take Defense, for example: Quirrel, Lockheart, and Umbridge, were all awful teachers, but I always found the subject interesting."
Harry looked up at him sheepishly, "Same with Potions. You're right; it is interesting. Just the environment is what makes all the difference."
Severus found himself mentally agreeing with Harry. He himself had hated many classes, but had loved the subjects. Had it not been the Marauders, maybe his experience wouldn't have been so miserable? Harry was right; it all really does depend on the environment, and Severus berated himself for making the young Gryffindors Potions lessons a living hell when they had been in school.
"My favourite subjects were Defense and Potions, though they were the classes which I despised," Severus found himself replying suddenly. "Those, and a select few other classes were the ones Slytherins and Gryffindors had shared back then." Unlike Harry's situation, none of Severus' professors had been foes, spies, or homicidal, so his dislike had never been in the professors.
"What did you think of Divination, sir?" Harry then asked, a bit of mirth in his voice. Severus almost sneered at the mention of the useless subject and the freud that taught it.
"Put it this way, Mr. Potter: If your marks from the subject were anywhere above Acceptable, I would be genuinely concerned over the state of your mental health," Severus answered bluntly, raising his chin a little. "I have never really understood why you had even chosen the subject over literally any other to begin with," he added as an afterthought, but genuinely curious.
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Seemed like the easiest subject to take," he said. "Besides, we thought we could both suck at the subject if it turned out to be hard, since Ron was also taking Divination." Lazy, yet a reasonable explanation. "It wasn't very hard, though; just supid. She wouldn't stop predicting my death every time she saw me," Harry added in a laugh, and Severus almost chuckled himself.
"Yes, she has done so since the beginning of time. Nothing new, however." Severus brushed off the subject, painfully reminded of the prophecy he'd overheard Trelawny give.
Once they were finished bottling up the potion, Harry even offered to help Severus with the cleanup, which the older wizard didn't mind. The two wizards continued talking about inconsequential things as they cleared the worktable and put away the ingredients and brewing tools, both feeling less tense in the presence of the other.
Strangely, Severus had grown to enjoy Harry's company, damned he would ever admit it aloud. Harry almost seemed like a friend to him at this point, at which Severus would have sneered at a mere month ago. But as things have changed, so have their perceptions of each other.
The two wizards made their way out of the lab for lunch, the wooden crate of Poppy's potions hovering in front of them.
Harry found himself distracted from the food on his plate by his thoughts of his 'detention' with Sn–Severus from earlier. Harry mentally marked this date on his imaginary calendar as the day when he had actually enjoyed a detention with the Bat of the Dungeons.
Harry was surprised at how easy it had been talking to Severus about potions and school, and Harry had really enjoyed the Potions Master's lectures on different potions ingredients and their properties. Harry had always known that Severus was a very academic person of high knowledge, but actually hearing the man in full lecture mode about any random question Harry had for him…that was a new level of impressive.
Harry hadn't lied to Severus when he had told him he has always found potions interesting. Ever since Severus' little speech about the "art that is potions making", Harry had been reading his textbooks on potions non stop, desperate to improve.
It hadn't been his fault that Severus had always belittled and ridiculed him in class! If not for the usual belittling comments, snide remarks and unfair points deduction, Harry would have bet his vault that his marks wouldn't have been in such a suffering state, if Slughorn's lessons had been of any indication.
After their very long and exhausting conversation the previous day, Harry had found yet another side to Severus, one with which he felt safe and reassured. The man had confirmed that he would never lie to, or sugarcoat anything for Harry, and Harry easily found solace in that. He had never been able to trust adults, and yet he found reassurance and a sense of trust in Severus.
So, could he really trust Severus Snape? Could he really accept the ex Death Eater's help? Was the man's offer genuine? Was Severus' drive of guilt and responsibility enough to make him want to partner up with the son of his childhood nemesis for good? Could Harry really accept his help; his assistance?
On one hand, Harry wanted Severus' help, yet on the other, he felt a sense of trepidation. Despite all they'd been through these past few weeks, Harry still felt a little weary around the man who'd ridiculed and belittled him for such petty reasons. Harry had forgiven; not forgotten.
"Food is meant to be consumed, not fooled around with, Mr. — Harry." S– Severus' smooth, drawling voice brought Harry back to the dining room from his musings. Harry blushed and put his fork down, frowning slightly at the mush he'd created on his plate.
"Sir," Harry began tentivilly. "I've been thinking…I want to go to Grimmauld Place."
This caught Severus' attention. His fork froze between his mouth and his plate, before he put it back. "Pray tell, why, Potter?" He asked neutrally, looking intently at him, though Harry could tell that the man wasn't too ecstatic at the sudden proclamation.
If he wants to help me, this will be like a small test trial for him; to see just how things would work if I agreed to his offer.
"I want to see if there are any clues we've missed that The Death Eaters had left behind," Harry said confidently, returning Severus' gaze in hopes of appearing tougher than his scrawny self. "Maybe there are maps or plans that the aurors had missed?"
Severus expelled a sigh; he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips almost tiredly, elbows resting on the table. "I highly doubt that, Harry," he finally responded, sounding weary. "Grimmauld Place had no doubt been searched upon by the Aurors upon our leave. If they had uncovered anything, I am certain McGonagall would have been made aware, consequently we would know as well."
Harry bit his lip. It made sense, but…"Still, I want to check, sir." He insisted.
Severus finally stopped rubbing his eyes, and looked up at Harry. Harry had only then noticed the dark circles under the man's eyes; he looked exhausted! Even his hair looked a little frazzled. In the dim lighting of the potions lab, it had been hard to notice the clear signs of exhaustion on Severus' face.
It was an awkward couple of moments as Severus just looked at Harry with a searching gaze. Harry squirmed slightly under the scrutiny, but condemned himself to keep a straight posture.
Finally, the man gave in. He sighed through his nose, only softer this time. His mouth was a thin line. "I will require your cloak, then, Potter."