[TW: Disciplinary spanking and non-consensual consent] This is not a slash fic, but it does have spanking as the main focal point. I strongly advise that you read the disclaimer in my bio prior to reading this fiction to see if this story might be a good read for you.
Author's notes: regarding the setting for this fic, please see the introductory notes at the beginning of chapter 1.
Chapter 29: Hate Me
"Snape?" Came the faint whisper trailing out from the mountain of black velvet covers.
He was reading over an excerpt in the Daily Prophet, navigating through a blend of accurate reports, biased narratives, and sensationalized stories that offered insights into the ongoing efforts regarding the rebuild of the wizarding world when he heard Draco's quiet call.
Snape collapsed the newspaper in a seamless fold and set it gracefully on the ornate table. He stood, interlaced his fingers behind his back, and slowly approached.
"Well, good afternoon," he uttered, reaching the bedside of the flushed blonde. "What a miracle to hear your voice, Draco. Upon arrival, I presumed this was a viewing for your untimely demise rather than a bedroom for your recovery."
Draco sucked in a mucus laced sniff and groaned.
"I don't feel well. Everything aches, I'm positively miserable."
"Clearly," Snape drawled, flicking his wand to silence the uncalled for self-strumming harp.
"Did you bring the potions?" Draco asked weakly, still lying flat on his back, smothered by the heavy comforter.
Snape gave a slow nod and motioned for him to sit up. Draco coughed, moaning as he forced himself to move.
"What needless fussing, Draco," Snape muttered, reaching out to feel the boy's forehead. He was warmer now, indicating the onset of a fever.
Draco leaned into the touch of Snape's palm, huffing as he tired, and failed, to breathe through his nose.
"I hate this." He croaked; his voice muddled from the congestion.
Snape pulled his hand away and sighed.
"So I surmised. Rest assured, you'll live to see another day."
He reached into his pocket and withdrew the first of three vials. Uncorking a crimson glimmering potion, he extended it out. Draco eyed it with a glossy gaze.
"Will it taste dreadful?" He reached over and snatched a tissue, blowing his nose with gusto.
Snape frowned at the snot-laced, trumpet-like sound coming from the boy.
"Its primary ingredient is beetle eyes," he motioned for Draco to take the waiting vial. "Assume what you will."
Draco groaned and tossed his used tissue into the air. Snape watched with disapproval as the enchanted room intercepted it, popping it out of sight.
Leave it to Narcissa not to even make him use a waste basket, what utter nonsense.
"Will you flavor it?" Draco asked, pulling the comforter up close to his chin and shivering.
"Absolutely not," Snape scoffed. "Despite this confounding treatment from your mother, you are no longer a child."
Draco frowned, reaching for another tissue, still not taking the potion.
"Never mind then," he paused to blow his nose aggressively once more. "I hardly wish to throw up from the horrid taste. My throat already hurts."
Snape leaned in closer, his dark gaze turning flinty.
"You are taking this," he tapped the glass vial with the side of his thumb. "Either willingly, or after I correct you for this ungrateful streak of defiance."
Draco's glassy eyes widened slightly as he tossed the tissue into the magical void.
"You wouldn't while I'm sick." He muttered, tucking himself down lower into his cocoon of comforters.
Snape lifted a brow. A second later he re-corked the vial, slid it into his pocket and snatched the edge of Draco's comforter, tossing it back.
"Wait—" Draco croaked out when the covers flew off his fevered body. "I'll take it, I'll take it. Snape, don't."
He reached out and grabbed Snape's warm hand now fastened around his bicep.
"Please, no— don't. I'll drink it."
Draco felt a surge of panic; the thought of adding a sore bum to his already achy body was unbearable. Illness also rendered him strangely emotional each time it struck, so it came as no surprise when hot tears welled up in his stinging eyes.
"Very well." Snape released his arm, watching with dull amusement as Draco snatched back the layers of covers and threw them over his silk pajama clad body.
Snape leveled Draco with a pointed look and sighed. While he hadn't actually planned to give him a spanking, he was satisfied nonetheless that the bluff had done its job.
Draco extended his hand out for the potion, sniffing as he did so. Collecting his outstretched palm, Snape turned it around to look over his previously battered knuckles.
"Let me see your other hand," he instructed, motioning for Draco to pull it up.
Relenting to the inspection, Draco groaned.
"I want to go back to sleep."
Snape didn't respond, taking his time to survey the back of Draco's knuckles. They were healed now, much to his satisfaction.
Shortly after, Draco squeezed his eyes shut as he downed the potion in a thick gulp. Despite Snape's reluctance to indulge him in unnecessary comfort, he found himself rubbing Draco's back in firm circles when he leaned forward to nearly cough his lungs out.
"I— think— going— to— be sick." Draco sputtered through a slew of violent coughs. Snape grimaced and instantly transfigured a book on the nightstand into a waste basket, handing it to him.
"If it is within your capacity to keep yourself from—"
His ask was cut short by Draco's upheaval.
Brilliant, Snape glared down at the vomit, wasted ingredients and time. Sighing he rubbed Draco's back with firmer strokes and muttered a few steadying words in response to the pitiful moaning.
"Come now, Draco," Snape said, moving his hand to hold the back of his sweating neck. "Enough with the needless dramatics. You're fine."
He reached over and offered Draco a tissue to wipe the corners of his mouth. He accepted it, grimacing down at the wasted potion in the basket. Though his expression soon turned to one of horror.
"It's red." Draco croaked, "What if I have internal bleeding? Snape, that is—"
"Merlin above, you're not bleeding internally you absolute nitwit." Snape glared at Draco with a thin thread of remaining patience. "Are you honestly so stricken that you failed to notice the color of the vial I handed you?"
"Oh," Draco relaxed, pinching his eyes shut against the headache now wrapping around his temple.
"Told you that would make me sick." He muttered after a moment. His throat burned, his body ached and he truly hated feeling so utterly miserable.
Vanishing the mess with a quick flick of his wand, Snape took the basket away then leaned over and pulled the covers up closer to Draco's chest. He rested his hand against the boy's forehead again, feeling the heat radiating up from the clammy skin.
Snape hummed low.
"Have you felt nauseated throughout the day?"
"Yes." Draco groaned, titling his head into Snape's open palm. "I threw up this morning."
Exasperation fell over Snape's stoic features.
"Perhaps then, it would have been prudent to inform me of that instead of blaming your resistance on the taste of the potion."
Draco gave a congested attempt at a snort, ending in a gargled sound.
With a quick call Snape summoned a house elf, requesting a glass of water and a ginger tonic for nausea. He made Draco drink both despite the protests then waited a bit before pressing for him to take the other potion.
"You will take the Pepperup when this fever has cleared." Snape said, then reached into his pocket. "Let's try the other now, shall we? Or will you waste this one along with my remaining patience?"
Draco frowned and dropped his head back dramatically into the goose down pillow propping his neck.
"Maybe if the other one was flavored it wouldn't have hurt my stomach."
"Taste doesn't change the ingredients, you whiny child." Snape sighed, pulling the other two vials from his pocket.
Draco reached for another tissue and blew his nose, refusing to lift his head. "You just told me I wasn't a child. Changing your mind, are you?
Snape tapped the vials with his wand, set the Pepperup potion down on the nightstand then uncorked the other shimmering container and extended it out.
"Don't presume I will take your cheek, Draco Malfoy. I've merely adjusted the flavor to mitigate the risk of waste, not to bow to your insolent preferences."
Tossing the tissue into the air, Draco shot a weak smirk in Snape's direction. He took the potion and glanced down, suddenly anxious to throw up again.
"Is it—"
"That dreadful apple, yes." Snape finished for him, picking up the transfigured waste basket. "Now, take it."
Draco felt a comforting warmth, content that Snape recalled the potion flavor he preferred, especially considering it had been many years since he last made such a request.
"I shall turn it back if you fail to obey me this instant." Snape snapped, pursing his lips in a tight line.
Letting out a long deep breath first, Draco then tossed the potion back and chugged fast. As he pulled the circular bottle from his lips, the familiar hint of apple lingered on his tongue, soothing him with a nostalgic embrace.
Snape watched him closely, ready to intervene again with the basket if necessary.
"Feeling settled?"
"Yes," Draco confirmed, handing the bottle back.
Within seconds he felt a trickling warmth flood his body, easing the chattery feeling brought on by his fever. Moments after his sinuses reopened, allowing a welcome breath to flood his previously stopped up nose.
Relaxing into his soft sheets Draco sighed in relief.
"Brilliant." He murmured, nestling back down in the covers and rolling to his stomach. "Thanks."
A small smirk tugged up the corners of Snape's lips, going undetected by the sick blonde.
"I presume you're feeling better."
"Mmhmm," he mumbled, succumbing to the onset of sleep again. "Perhaps you could, uhm—well, will you stay with me? Like, you know, you used to?"
Snape rolled his eyes, but to Draco's hazy delight he settled himself in the velvet armchair to the side of his bed.
"You are far too spoiled," Snape shot, trying to lace his tone with the typical note of disdain. "I detest such needless fuss over a mere cold and stomach ache. I'll be speaking to your mother about this ridiculously excessive treatment."
"Considering the last time you were in here," Draco mumbled through a yawn, the warmth in his cheeks driven more by embarrassment than the fever. "I disagree. Neither of you spoiled me then..."
Snape scoffed.
"Enforcing discipline is a sign of your mother's capacity for genuine care, Draco." Snape said, leaning down to drop his voice into a silky whisper. "I certainly hope you're not already deceiving yourself into believing you didn't deserve it."
Draco's pale skin warmed with a darker flush, but he kept his eyes pinched shut and smirked.
Snape surveyed him with a scrutinizing gaze but soon found himself looking down with a hint of compassion as Draco's breathing evened out. A memory of the young Slytherin, curled up in his office, seeking comfort during a previous bout of the stomach flu, flashed vividly through his mind. He tried to shake off the growing inclination to provide more needless comfort. It was ridiculous really, the way Narcissa spoiled him so.
Yet, as his mind drifted to the hardships Draco endured under the influence of the Death Eaters, every anxiety-laden moment haunted by the fear for his parents' and his own life following the Dark Lord's demand for him to assassinate the headmaster, Snape yielded begrudgingly to a sense of pity.
Leaning over, he traced his warm hand up and down the soft silk of Draco's pajama clad back, soothing the boy's fevered body and guiding him into a restful sleep, just as he had many years ago.
"Level with me, mate," Ron said, ripping off a bite of red licorice. "Why do you stay with him?"
"With Snape?"
Harry shook his head when Ron extended the bag of chewy sweets in his direction. They were strolling leisurely down the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, heading back out of the bubbling town after a day spent browsing in the rain covered shops. Each step Ron took clinked the potion vials in his pocket, tightening the hand of guilt around Harry's chest.
"Well—"
"Look! Look! It's Harry Potter!"
The shrill squeak of a little girl rang out through the cool afternoon air, echoing down an alleyway in the distance. Ron elbowed Harry, a smirk growing across his freckled face.
"Here we go again," he whispered, making Harry groan under his breath.
Not one, but three little girls soon careened down the stone paved steps in their direction, splashing puddles of water every which way. Harry was instantly swarmed, nearly knocked over in the siege of ribbon laced ponytails.
"Er," Harry glanced down at the small girls after regaining his balance. "Hi."
Two of them giggled and the first little girl, who had spotted him initially said, "Hi!"
"Is it true you killed you-know-who?"
Harry moved to speak but was soon cut off by a slew of chaotic questions from the trio, none of which he knew quite how to respond to.
"Were you scared?"
"Did you strangle him with your bare hands?"
"Did you dive off a building?"
"I heard you shot lightning out of your eyes!"
The last one had Ron wheezing, nearly choking on his licorice. Harry shot over an annoyed glare at his doubled over friend, trying to politely gain a bit more personal space from the giggling girls.
"Oh, well, no I didn't— wizards don't shoot lightning from their eyes."
The emerald eyed girl with the dark brown ponytail frowned at that.
"But you're different," she said, shamelessly taking Harry's hand in hers. "My mummy says you're a hero."
Harry let out a tight breath at that, guilt twisting his stomach with death grip. He gave her little hand a squeeze, trying to think of something to say.
"Alright," Ron straightened up to save him, wiping a few stray tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes.
"How come not one of ya have asked me any questions? Hm?"
The little girl still holding tight to Harry's hand, cast a very dismissive glance at Ron.
"Who are you?"
The other two other girls couldn't be bothered to even look, deciding the heroic Harry Potter was far more worthy of their attention.
"I'm Ron Weasley," he said, walking a few steps closer to Harry. "I helped him destroy you-know-you, ya know."
"Oh," said the green-eyed girl, glancing back up at Harry.
"Mummy didn't tell me about him." She whispered.
It was Harry's turn to burst into a string of light laughter.
"Well," Ron said, pulling his arms up to his hips, his paper licorice bag smacking his leg in the process. "Tell your Mum—"
"Girls!" A stout woman called from the other side of the street, carrying multiple shopping bags. With a sigh of relief, she stalked over to them through the puddles, her sweeping cloak flurrying in the cold breeze.
"Just where have you been?"
The three girls spun around. One of them let out a hushed, "Blimey."
"Look," said the one little girl holding Harry's hand. "It's Harry Potter!"
The stout woman spared a fast glance at Harry, offering a warm smile that quickly evaporated as she glanced back down at the girls.
"Spotting Harry Potter in the street does not constitute an excuse to run away from me, young lady."
The little girl slid her hand from Harry's, suddenly finding the tops of her wet shiny shoes far more interesting.
"It is not only disrespectful to scurry away from me after all this shopping I've treated you to, but it is dangerous to be running about the town unsupervised. I'm disappointed in you girls."
Harry felt his guilt growing larger, the scolding somehow pinning him too, in its own strange way. He couldn't help but feel bad for the trio, seeing their bright faces suddenly fall so grim.
"I'm sorry." He interjected, making Ron raise his brow as he chomped down on a new piece of licorice.
"I think I distracted them too long with my stories. They were about to go find you, weren't you, girls?" Harry asked, glancing around the group of children.
All three jumped to agree hastily, "Yes!"
"Honest we were." Said one little girl, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the stout woman.
The woman hummed low, narrowing her hazel gaze down at the little girl.
"Very well. You and I will certainly be having a little discussion, Caroline Grindle. Your mothers will be hearing about this as well ladies, come along."
At her words, all the wind seemed to be sucked out of their sails.
"Say goodbye to Mr. Potter now."
Three solemn 'goodbyes' floated up in the rainy streets as the girls moved to follow the stout woman.
A few splashing steps out and the emerald eyed girl turned back around, running to envelope Harry's waist in a hug.
"Thank you for saving everyone!" She said, squeezing extra tight. "I think you're the best person ever."
The stout woman turned back, pulling her hands to her hips and tapping her toe on the glistening stone path.
"Come along, Ebony."
Harry offered the woman an apologetic smile, which she met with a discrete wink before bringing back a sharp glare of disapproval. Harry quickly bent down to the girl's level, giving her a fast and proper hug.
She seemed to like that, squealing with a peppy delight.
"Be good for your mu—, er, her." Harry said, moving from the embrace to stand back up, motioning to the stout woman.
"She's my mummy's best friend! She takes care of me when my—"
"Ebony Matthews." The stout woman snapped.
"I'm coming, Aunt Sereia!" She said, giving a little eye roll that made Harry pull his brows up in surprise.
The tone apparently didn't sit well with Aunt Sereia as she set the shopping bags down on the wet street and made a quick advance.
"Oop," said Ebony, a soft flush coming over her button nose and round cheeks.
Aunt Sereia snatched her hand quickly, muttering down a quiet, "You are testing my patience today, little lady."
Ebony whined under her breath but allowed herself to be towed away.
Blushing deeply, Harry instantly remembered Snape smacking him earlier that morning, using nearly the same phrase to scold him with.
"Bye, Harry," Ebony said over her shoulder, "I love you!"
Harry chuckled through his second-hand embarrassment, offering a warm goodbye despite his surprise at the words.
"Nice to meet you, Ebony." He said, watching her blush as she was hauled away.
Ron shook his head, digging back into his paper bag of sweets.
"Crazy little devils." He muttered under his breath, withdrawing another long rope of licorice.
Harry smiled and shook his head, watching with a hint of sympathy as the little girls disappeared back down the wet alleyway from where they came.
SCENE BREAK
"I hope they're not in trouble." Harry said later, turning back to look at Ron as they made their way out of town.
"Oh, they are." Ron replied, laughing through his licorice. "That woman rules with an iron fist. Didn't even spare the scolding in front of the heroic Harry Potter."
Harry frowned, feeling a bit bad for the group, especially the chatty one. She was a sweet little girl, a bit cheeky too, and though normally he felt horribly uncomfortable with all the attention the end of the war had brought him, something about his interaction with her felt good… familiar in a way.
"I'm using a glamor next time we come out." Harry grumbled, suddenly deciding to have a go at the licorice.
Ron rolled his eyes but smiled when Harry reached into the bag. He loved sharing a snack with someone as it gave him an excuse to buy more later.
"Not loving this celebrity life, eh?" Ron asked, grabbing his tenth piece of licorice from the bag. "Would've thought you were used to it a bit. I mean, you are the Boy-Who-Lived, just, uh, twice now."
Harry sighed, looking at the whippy piece of red licorice in his hand.
"I never used to get this sort of attention."
His trainers sloshed through the wet path in sloppy crunches echoing in stride with Ron's firm thuds.
Ron nodded, that much was true. Everywhere they went people were coming up to Harry to congratulate him, shower him with thanks, some seemed to even worship the ground he walked on. He could hardly pay for anything anymore, whether it was drinks at the Leaky Cauldron or Ron's big bag of sweets, everything was on the house these days.
"Right," Ron nodded, "Oi, speaking of celebrity," he dropped his tone down low, doing his best to imitate Professor Snape.
"Why do you like living with the greasy git? Don't just say cause he saved your arse a few times, you've told me the grand Pensive tale."
Harry sighed, twirling the licorice through the air as the pair continued their slow stroll.
"I just… I don't know." Harry said, watching the storm clouds crawl in the distance.
Ron finished his last piece of licorice and scoured the bag for a new treat.
"What's even decent about him besides his food?" Ron tried, fishing out a chocolate frog. "Start there because that's the bloody question keeping me up every night."
Harry snorted, feeling his stomach clench again as the potions clinked with every step Ron took. Where could he even start that would make sense?
Well, Ron, he lets me brew potions with him now. He rubs my neck and asks how I'm doing. He's actually bloody funny in this sort of deadpan way. I feel closer to my mum somehow, just living with him. He's hard on me but it's comforting, like I finally have a parent. He even hugs me after… bloody hell, no, that's too much.
"He's… calm."
"Calm?!" Ron said through a mouthful of chocolate.
"See, this is why I can't explain it to you." Harry shot back, twirling his licorice around.
"Right, sorry." Ron shoved the rest of the frog in his mouth. "Calm how?"
The question came out muffled by the chocolate but Harry still caught it.
"He's steady," Harry said, smacking the licorice rope in the palm of his hand. "I know what to expect from him."
Ron didn't say anything for a moment, eyeing the uneaten licorice in Harry's hand.
"He's really different then?" Ron finally asked, narrowing his gaze in suspicion as they walked.
"Yeah." Harry replied, relieved that they had made it out of town and away from onlookers. "Insanely different."
"I don't know, mate. I reckon I was a bit too sloshed that night he dragged us out of the pub, but hell, that lecture he gave us wasn't exactly a soothing experience, ya know?"
Ron grabbed another frog from the bag and popped the whole thing in his mouth this time.
Harry snorted and shoved his arm.
"Yeah, well, I think you're still a bit cross that he made you do chores that morning."
Ron paused and held up a finger, chewing vigorously to finish the chocolate so he could speak.
"Damn right I am!" He finally choked out, swallowing hard. "He's a bloody menace."
Although summer had arrived, the rain ushered in a cold breeze that chilled Harry's exposed skin. He drew in a deep breath and tried to focus on the sound of the wet road beneath their feet, trying to stop feeling so downright horrible for the clinking potions in Ron's pocket. The growing concern for Snape's inevitable fury continued to build too despite his attempts to squash it down low and forget about it. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling that the punishment awaiting him for a stunt like this wouldn't compare to the reprimands he received for lesser offenses, like staying out past curfew or accidentally breaking a stair railing.
"What about at dinner?" Ron tried, taking a break from eating to give Harry a pointed look. "He got after you at the table and made me leave quick. I saw your face, Harry. You were whiter than Myrtle."
Harry pulled his hand up to the back of his neck and started to rub. Merlin, he didn't even know what to say.
"Well it was just a long day," Harry shrugged, "I wasn't keen on a lecture and chores for pissing him off."
"That's what I'm after though." Ron said, furrowing his brow. "Why do you want to live with him when he makes you do chores for givin cheek and stuff?"
Huffing Harry tried to deflect, "What you don't do chores at home, Ron?"
"Well—"
"Does your mum have no house rules? Is there not some consequence for when you break them? I've heard her scold you more times than I can count."
Ron felt the tension starting to seep into Harry's words. He had no idea where the defense was coming from but he tried to shift the energy.
"Are you going to eat that?" He quipped after a small pause.
"What?" Harry snapped, turning to look at him with a perplexed look.
"The licorice." Ron motioned to his hand, "You've been swinging it forever."
"Oh," Harry said, glancing down. "Sorry, here."
He extended the drooping piece of candy out.
"Well you can have it if you're going to stop foolin around and eat it." Ron said, motioning for Harry to keep it.
"I'm really not hungry, just take it."
"Alright."
No one had to tell Ron to take food twice, especially not candy.
"I still do chores, ya know." He said casually, hoping to defuse the unexpected tension. "I get an earful from Mum too when I'm out late or cheeky. Hasn't happened since the war but I reckon she'd still scrounge up a punishment if I mouthed her off."
Harry nodded, still rubbing his neck. He doubted he'd ever find the right words to tell Ron about the smackings. It all felt too complicated to explain—how do you justify living with someone who disciplines you like a child? Especially after a history like the one they shared with Professor Snape. To Ron's credit the situation was entirely complicated even without that little piece of the puzzle. Of course he was confused, so was Harry… a little.
"I have to put up with Mum though, Dad too, since I'm living at home for now." Ron took a bite of the licorice then said through a chew:
"I don't have the kind of opportunity you do, mate. I mean, you can afford to live alone. They'd probably give you a house for free if you wanted, any privilege you could think of after saving everyone's arse."
Harry sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, then gradually, an idea began to form in his mind. He'd thought of a reason for living with Snape, one that Ron might understand. A new thought that made some sense to him as well.
"That's it, though," he soon said, glancing over. "Snape doesn't treat me like the rest of the world."
Ron squinted slightly, chewing on the piece of licorice with a puzzled expression
"I'm just Harry to him. The same old insolent, prat who needs a firm hand and direction before I fall off the rails."
Harry felt himself flushing at the phrase, he dropped his eyes from Ron's and glanced at his muddy trainers.
"I guess I want that." He admitted, "I want to just be Harry for a while. Not a hero, just… me. Even if there are rules and bloody awful consequences to go with them."
Ron stopped chewing for a moment, his eyes widening ever so slightly.
"Awful consequences?" He reiterated, his tone adopting a sharper edge. "What does that—"
"Chores," Harry blurted out. "Having to prepare gross ingredients for potions, consequences like that."
"Huh," Ron finally said after a long pause. "Well… huh."
Harry hoped Ron could sort of understand, at least not push him for more reasons.
Thankfully he did.
"I reckon that makes a lick of sense… but it's going to take a bit for you to convince me you're not right mental for picking Snape to be the one giving you direction now. I mean, bloody hell, Harry. What a tosser he's been to the lot of us."
"I know but just give him some time." Harry smiled, relieved to see Ron's accepting expression even if it was laced with a bit of disdain. "You'll see, he's not all that bad anymore."
That is if he still lets me live after he finds out what we've done. Harry mused, feeling the cold hand of dread take hold of him once again, plunging him into the depths of regret.
The hum of Draco's faint snores filled the grand bedroom as Narcissa and Snape sipped on glasses of wine by the warmth of the fire.
They shared a late meal together, with Narcissa insisting they dine in Draco's room in case he woke up and required anything. Snape offered his customary sarcasm and disdain over the pampering. However, his words could hardly sway her after she had walked in to find him rubbing Draco's back as he slept. Witnessing it filled her with such a swell of maternal appreciation that she sent for the best bottle of wine left in the Manor, wanting to subtly thank Snape for the care she always knew he provided her son when no one was looking.
The fire crackled and popped, warming the room with a faint orange glow. Narcissa let out a sigh, taking a delicate sip of her wine.
"I should think I'd like to leave this place soon." She said in a hushed tone, her hazel eyes set on the burning logs in the fire.
Snape glanced over, surveying her still frame in the flickering light.
"Is that so?" He asked in his silky low tone, sipping his wine.
"Yes," Narcissa replied, gliding her fingertips across the velvet lined chair. "It isn't good for Draco to stay hidden away in this place tainted by such wicked memories."
Snape didn't say anything for a moment, thinking over her words with a thoughtfulness that often evaded his interactions with Narcissa.
"I would venture to presume this sentiment extends beyond Draco's well-being, does it not?" He soon asked, eyeing her with a knowing dark gaze.
Narcissa took a lengthy sip of wine, glancing back at the fire. She pulled her cup down and ran her red nail against the rim of her glass.
"I'm… haunted here, Severus."
Snape hummed low, pausing to listen for Draco's snoring. He considered casting a privacy charm in case he woke up but decided against it as Narcissa pressed on.
"I'd like something smaller. Perhaps something quaint and private. Your little spot in Silent Hollow for instance."
The crackling of the fire filled the comfortable silence following the remark. Narcissa possessed a talent for subtle inferences that Snape was quite familiar with. Her casual comment spurred a concerning notion that made him shift in his chair. He straightened out a wrinkle in his trousers and pursed his lips.
"What precisely are you inferring?" He asked, conjuring the hell of a time he'd have if Narcissa was implying what he suspected she was implying.
"There's a property across from yours, I'm considering purchasing it."
Salzar, you shall kill me, woman. Snape thought, he glanced and the climbing flames in the spiking fire. Harry and your son can't stand to live miles away, you assume they can handle minutes?
"If you were to seriously consider such a perilous move, you must know that Harry Potter and your son—"
"Would learn to get along, I'm quite sure." Narcissa interjected, taking another sip of wine.
"Very presumptuous of you to assume. I don't dare hold your confidence." Snape drawled.
"Oh, they're young." Narcissa waved her hand, her nails glistening in the low light of the fire. "They just need a bit of time together to sort out their differences."
Snape scoffed at that, leaning over to take Narcissa's wine glass from her thin fingertips. He replenished her drink and his as well.
"Need I remind you the last time I left them to their own devices I returned to find the pair beating one another into the ground."
Narcissa let out a hushed, airy laugh, glancing over to Draco's bed.
"They needed to get it out of their systems, I suppose. They wouldn't dare such a transgression again."
"To reiterate," Snape replied, handing her back the glass of wine. "I don't dare hold your confidence."
Narcissa leaned back in her chair, crossing one smooth leg over the other.
"Well," she began, pausing to adjust her luxurious dress. "Draco was so impacted by the punishment you gave them, he refused to say a word to me regarding it."
Narcissa took a sip of wine then continued.
"Normally after any sort of conflict with Harry, he's quick to defend himself, telling me how unfair he was treated. I should think something has changed between them given his silence."
Snape followed Narcissa's gaze to Draco's bed and let out a little sigh.
"Sharing a moment of discomfort and vulnerability may have curbed a bit of his typical bravado but it doesn't mean Draco won't resort to the same antagonist behavior once the memory fades."
"He's a good boy, Severus. You know his motives for such behavior are hardly malicious. He ought to be properly behaved the remainder of the summer."
Snape hummed low, allowing his expression to speak for himself.
"I've known your son for too long to be duped into believing he's suddenly resigned himself to appropriate behavior."
Narcissa merely flashed a small smile, drawing her hazel gaze back to the fireplace.
"I'm going to take him to have a look at the property in a few days, perhaps you and Harry would like to accompany us?"
Despite Snape's initial inclination to immediately refuse the obligation, he reasoned that Narcissa required support in her current circumstance. While her exterior maintained perfect composure, he recognized a subtle undercurrent of exhaustion. Though this may have been something he would have ignored during the war, he now felt reluctantly compelled to offer a hand of support.
"Very well." Snape soon agreed with a nod, and then, far against his better judgment he followed up with: "You and Draco are welcome to join us for an evening meal after, if you'd like."
"We would," Narcissa replied, running a bony hand up to her collar bone, tracing its rigid frame. "Thank you for indulging me these days. I'm glad to have you as a friend, Severus."
He inclined his head down a touch and offered a small smile.
"And I you."
"To possibly becoming neighbors," she said, extending her glass of wine out.
Snape shot a characteristic brow up and shook his head.
"Indeed." He muttered, extending his wine glass forward.
He internally hoped the property would sell in the next few hours, robbing her of the ability to add such a headache to his life.
Their glasses met with a faint clink that reverberated out through the grand room. Narcissa laughed and Snape merely rolled his eyes, though they both took a sip of the deep red wine, letting the moment of camaraderie linger in the light of the fire.
Harry twisted in his covers for the hundredth time, breathing out a guttural sigh. Relentless knots coiled in his stomach as he struggled to relax and surrender to the elusive concept of sleep.
The night had grown late, Snape still wasn't home, and a sense of dread blanketed his mind. The thunderous echoes of the storm reverberated through his room, the rain pelting against the roof with a rhythmic drumming. A faint blue hue surrounded him, crawling across the flooring from the droplet covered windowpanes.
Though the summer months had descended upon Silent Hollow, a distinct chill brought on by the relentless days of rain wrapped its cold breath around Harry's shoulders.
Tossing the covers back in a flurry, he sat up and let out a sigh. Clad only in his boxer pants, Harry propped his feet on the lower rung of his bed frame, rested his elbows on his bare thighs, and dropped his head into his hands. Cold shivers ran through his legs and chest in the absence of the bedding. Drumming his foot in a hurried bounce, he wondered how soon Snape would discover the missing potions.
Bloody hell, he let out a tight breath. Maybe I should have asked him instead. He might not have said no.
Harry tightened his grip in his hair, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea come over him at the swishing sound of the floo activating in the living room.
He listened to the faint steps of Snape making his way around the house. A few clinks and clanks rang out through the kitchen, followed by the sound of water running through the creaking pipes of the old home.
Staying perfectly still, Harry heard the unmistakable path of Snape's evening routine. The teapot soon screeching, the fire stoking followed by faint crackles, Snape's book on potions thudding on the oak living room table.
Quite some time later, Harry still sat on the edge of his bed, listening with bated breath. He was freezing but could hardly notice, his mind preoccupied with what was happening downstairs. The back door leading to the potions storage never sounded, easing some of his relentless nerves.
Soon after rustling with something by the door, Snape's firm steps reverberated through the upper floor. The muffled creaking of his shoes hitting the old floor boards sounded up the staircase.
Expecting to hear him retreat to his room, Harry lost his breath when he caught the distinct sound of the first door leading up to his bedroom squeaking open.
Shit, Harry swore to himself, quickly tucking back under the comforter and turning his back to the door. The cold sheets fell over him, clinging to his frozen body of nerves.
He doesn't know yet, he can't know. He just got home! Oh, fuck, what if the spell on the door somehow—
Harry stopped breathing when he heard a faint knock on the outside of his door. He decided to fake sleep. Snape wouldn't light into him if he was sleeping right? He didn't want to deal with this right now. Ron needed at least one night of rest before Snape stormed over and demanded the potions back.
When Harry heard his door creak open, he focused on breathing evenly, in and out, smooth inhales— deep exhales. The sound of Snape approaching his bed in firm strides had Harry internally cringing, but he kept it up— the even breathing. Faking sleep.
He's going to kill me, I shouldn't have done this. Why did I think—
Harry nearly stiffened when he felt the unexpected touch of warm fingertips on his face. Snape slid his glasses off the bridge of his nose in a seamless sweep. Harry kept breathing deeply, listening as they were folded in a soft click. The guilt pent within him surged as Snape carefully pulled the covers around his shoulders, tucking him in.
Harry listened carefully through his measured breaths, catching a familiar audible 'tsk' from above him. Snape's firm clacks intermixed with the thudding rain on the roof as he crossed the bedroom. Harry kept his eyes closed shut, listening as Snape lit a low fire in the hearth of his room. The room shed its dark, cold chill, yielding to the warmth and flickering light of the now-kindled fire.
Then, just as smoothly as he entered, Snape strode out; clicking the door shut with a soft pull. Harry stayed perfectly still, hardly moving until he later heard the unmistakable sound of Snape opening and closing his own bedroom door.
"Oh, Merlin." Harry whispered, feeling a swell of emotion so painfully big he could hardly handle it.
"He's going to hate me again."
Author's Notes: Happy Sunday! (Or Monday in your case, Hamlet ) Thank you so much to all those who have reviewed and left me such wonderful feedback. I wish FFN provided the same commenting function that Ao3 does (so I could thank you each directly when I see your lovely thoughts come in), but alas, here we are.
MusicMelis, I so appreciate your weekly feedback; it always brings a smile to my face. Though Narcissa would like much of Snape's time dedicated to Draco, rest assured the majority of it will be given to Harry. I'd agree that he's in need of more support as well after everything he's gone through. I love that you found Draco's cold drama funny 😆 To answer a thought you wrote a few weeks back, in this story Snape has no idea Draco tried to Crucio Harry just before the Sectumsempra incident. Honestly, I don't think any adults knew in canon (at least not that I can remember either). The whole incident seemed to get glazed over to me! Which is unfortunate. Thank you for your continued love for this story and compliments on my writing style! I truly appreciate it. Next week's chapter finally brings everything to a head, and I'm hoping to be able to get two posted for the sake of continuity.
Librarymom4, thank you for popping in and sharing your love for this story! Ah, I'm touched that you look forward to the updates (I wish I could get more out faster for you all. I hate waiting for an update on the WIPs that I follow lol).
Hamlet, what can I say? I always get excited to hear your thoughts each update! They're like a mini adventure for me as I read through your reaction to the scenes. I'm continually flattered by your compliments and genuinely touched by your appreciation of the humorous bits ️ playful/somewhat serious cp scenes are my absolute favorite to write— there will certainly be more of those as the story unfolds! So glad you love them too. Next week there's quite a bit of Snape and Minerva chatting; I'm sure you'll enjoy it ✨ Thank you again for all the love!
Ishmeet, you are too kind! I'm so touched to hear that you're loving the story. Thank you for sharing your ideas along as well & nothing sounded rude! Harry is pretty settled when the punishments end, so you brought up a fair point about having him express a bit more frustration. I imagine there will come a time in the distant future where he doesn't end up agreeing so much with Snape's decision for a punishment. Thank you again for your love over this fic and kind words :)
DMLucas, your reviews are so incredibly thoughtful. I loved reading your thoughts on chapter 26! Thank you so much for compliments on my writing style & engagement with the plot. Draco's pinching on the top of his hand is certainly a self-soothing mechanism, and I love how you picked up on that. Your character analysis of Snape was a fascinating read; I thoroughly enjoyed your thoughts there! I'm touched to know my descriptions of him feel authentic to you (that is such a compliment, thank you!) There's so much to unpack with Snape, and I've been loving the opportunity to prod into his character more with this niche sort of fic. I always enjoy your reflections!
To the lovely guest reader from chapter 27, ah, I know it probably was disheartening to read about the stealing ordeal, but I promise this event serves as a catalyst for a deeper relationship with Harry and Snape. Their individual struggles and strengths as characters will be flushed out a bit more, and I promise to leave this fic on a happy ending when the time comes to wrap it up. Thank you for your compliment on my skills as a writer! I hope you enjoy where this story leads.
Next week everything comes together folks, I know these last few have left us on a bit of a cliffhanger, but I promise the fallout is just around the corner. Thank you for your patience between updates as always! I'll be back next week ️ much love to you all!