There was a polite little knock on Severus' office door. He glanced up in annoyance, thinking that if it was a student, he would simply shut the door back in their face.
But Professor, it's the middle of your office hours! I have a question about number twelve on the homework! The mock student in his head sounded like Percy Weasley, and he banished the thought as he flicked the door open with his wand.
The pink terror stood there, hands folded primly in front of her. Severus considered shutting the door anyway on principle.
"Delores," he drawled instead. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
If she understood the sarcasm, she didn't show it. The woman stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. "Severus, I have been meaning to speak with you."
He took great pleasure in gesturing to the most uncomfortable chair in the room. She sat down and immediately shifted, trying to find a good position. There was no good position in that chair, so Severus enjoyed watching her struggle to achieve it with what she probably thought was grace and subtlety.
"About?" he asked, sitting down in his own chair. It was several inches taller than hers, and he looked down at her blandly.
"These lessons you have been giving Mr. Potter. As much as I support not allowing the child to slack off in his studies, it is beginning to interfere with my ability to discipline him. I am sure it was not your intention, but he has been using them to undermine my ability to schedule his detentions. Why, I was going to give him one this evening, but he told me he had yet another lesson with you. I had to move it earlier in the day."
"I do hope he won't be too tired to brew," Severus said, tamping down a spark of rage. "And for what heinous crime was he given this detention?" Despite their argument at the beginning of term, he was trying to play nice to delay the inevitable moment where everything came to a head. For now, he would keep his wits about him. He was no stranger to acting in the shadows when need be.
"I have him writing lines," Umbridge dismissed, but wearing a smug little smile that sent a shiver of unease down his spine. "As to these… lessons… I was hoping we could come to an agreement."
"Oh?" Severus said, voice dropping to a dangerous degree. Any student would be cowering in recognition by now.
Her tone, when she spoke, was sickeningly saccharine. "As I'm sure you would agree, disciplinary measures to discourage his wild and unchecked behaviour are of utmost importance. I would like it if these detentions came first. Lessons, after all, may be rescheduled."
"And so may detentions," Severus said, fighting the urge to spit I got there first! like a proper teenager. "My lessons, after all, were scheduled prior, and have standing approval from the Headmaster. I also possess seniority."
Umbridge's lips thinned. "I had hoped you would be more accomodating, Severus."
"If you worry that my lessons are not punishments in and of themselves, I am certain that a short conversation with Potter will assure you otherwise." Hopefully the boy's acting skills would come in clutch before his temper did. Forcing his face to soften in sympathy, he stood. "I have no wish to undermine your authority, Delores. I just cannot allow my own to be. Certainly we may work together for both our benefits."
She looked distinctly unsatisfied, but stood as well. "That is my wish, as well."
"Good day to you."
She gave him a false smile and hurried out of the room.
"Thank fu–"
When Harry came in at six for his lesson, his feet were dragging as he walked. Hoping that it was because of reluctance for another tough Occlumency session but worried that it was related to his detention, Severus gave up the pretence of grading essays and watched him dump his book bag in the corner.
"Er, hello," Harry muttered, seeming flustered by all of the direct attention.
Severus narrowed his eyes. "Good evening."
"Occlumency again?" he asked, falling into the less uncomfortable chair.
"No. After yesterday, I thought it best that we do a brewing session today."
Harry gave little negative reaction to this besides a wrinkle of the nose.
"Out with it," Severus demanded.
"What?"
"Something is wrong. Surely Umbridge isn't that creative in her detentions?"
Harry did not smile. "The potions professor could take a page or two from her book."
"The- I am the potions professor, Harry," Severus ribbed.
"I know that," Harry said, flustered and upset. "I didn't– never mind. Nothing's wrong."
"And that is why you were so kind to your book bag." They both glanced to the corner, where textbooks were spilling out and the snapped remains of a quill had decided to make an escape attempt.
"It's fine," Harry said.
"Something is wrong, I can smell it."
"You can actually smell the blood? What, are you a vampire?"
"Who said anything about blood?" Severus asked smoothly.
"Er– that time of the month?" Harry tried weakly. Severus gave him an unimpressed look. He gave up and held out his hand for inspection.
Severus leaned forward and wrapped his finger's around Harry's wrist, turning his hand this way and that in the dim dungeon lights. There, carved into the boy's flesh, were the words I must not tell lies in a familiar scrawl.
"What is this?" he asked, voice a low hiss.
"She… has this quill," Harry said, wincing when Severus gently ran the pad of his finger over the words. "When you write with it, it takes your blood for ink and cuts your hand."
"Blood quill," Severus identified. He let go of Harry's hand and stood.
"W-what are you gonna do?" Harry asked anxiously.
Severus wondered what the teen would do if he said 'bodily harm'. "Now? I am going to get you a salve, and then we are going to brew."
He went into his private quarters and retrieved the bottle he had once had high hopes for but ended up shoving into the very back of his cupboard. Returning, he held out his hand for Harry's again. When it had been given, he began rubbing the salve onto the words. "This should help with the scarring, as well."
"What is that stuff?"
"Something I made a very long time ago," Severus said, in a tone that indicated the subject closed.
Harry only held the silence for another minute. "And later?"
"Hm?"
"Later. What are you going to do later?"
"Who said I was going to do anything later?" Severus released Harry's hand after giving the wrist a light squeeze and re-stoppered the bottle.
"You've got that look on your face, like you're plotting something."
Amidst the howling rage that still screamed in his chest, Severus felt a flicker of amusement at the thought of a 'plotting' face. "Have I."
"Yes!" Harry cried, with more passion that Severus thought the moment really called for. "This is why I didn't want to say anything. You're going to do something and get in trouble, and then the Ministry will arrest you, or she'll put you on probation like she did Hagrid, and–"
"It is not your job to protect me, Harry," Severus said, more softly, "nor to shield me from danger."
"Maybe I want to," Harry crossed his arms, sullen in the way that teenagers were when they felt embarrassed.
"And maybe I want to protect you. You are aware that is what adults are supposed to do, yes? This is dark magic, Harry, and that leaves a mark."
Harry shrugged, not looking at him. "Can I have some more of that stuff? Like, to take to the tower?"
Severus reflexively reached for the bottle as if to hide it away in his robes, aborting the motion at the last moment. "Perhaps, if you brew it correctly today, you may take that to your friends."
Harry jumped. "Who said anything about friends?" He countered, twisting Severus' earlier words.
"Are you not asking for their sake?"
Harry sighed. "Yeah, I guess I am."
Severus stood and beckoned Harry to the open classroom door. "It was not my original intention for today, but I believe this salve poses enough of a challenge to be a learning experience without being too difficult." He listed off the ingredients, which Harry ran off to get while Severus went rooting in his notes to find the instructions.
"What's it called?" Harry asked when he came back with arms full, reading over the recipe.
Severus blinked. "I never named it."
"Wait, you mean you invented this? And you didn't publish it or anything?"
"There would have been no point. It was created for a very specific purpose."
"Did you have a teacher make you use blood quills?" Harry asked curiously, gaze darting to Severus' hand.
"No, it was meant for something different. One of its main properties, however, includes the ability to counteract dark magic, which the average topical healing potion does not. It is also meant to heal marks upon the skin."
"How long ago did you make it?"
"Years. The rose oil contributes to a long shelf life, although a fresher brew may very well be more potent."
It was a quiet lesson. Harry clearly had a lot on his mind, as did Severus. The salve turned out well enough. He watched Harry bottle it up and label it "Snape Salve" before slipping it into his pocket.
"Thanks, Professor," he said quietly, slipping his book bag over his shoulder. "Just… don't do anything dangerous."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Harry shrugged, face flushed but resolute. "You can't get taken out of Hogwarts. You– you just can't."
He stared at him, then placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I know a little something about acting behind the scenes, Harry. Trust that, no matter what I do, it will not be reckless or ill-considered."
Still, Harry's brow was furrowed. He gave a nod, then hooked his hand around Severus' forearm. "Ah, right. Yes, sir." He gave Severus' arm a pat, as if to reassure himself that he was really there, then quickly left.
Severus slumped into his chair and took a deep breath. He allowed some of the anger he'd been keeping a tight hold on in his chest to leak out, and an empty jar on a shelf shattered.
If she lays a hand on him again, she will find out just how very real the Death Eater threat can be.
He picked up the salve on his desk and slowly turned it in his hands. A small label near the bottom, on the side he had kept faced away from the boy, read simply Dark Mark in his own spidery scrawl.
It was a cold, crisp January morning. Severus took a sip of his coffee, staring out over the frozen black lake. He rarely emerged from the dungeons on weekends; mandatory meal attendance for staff was only in effect on weekdays and feasts. Today, however, he had felt the need to see the sun after a sleepless night in his quarters. Very few people would venture out onto the grounds on a day like this, so Severus had wrapped himself in a thick cloak and stood in a spot where the snow was not too deep.
"Severus!"
He closed his eyes and took a deeper drink of his coffee. To his left, Umbridge puffed and shivered as she marched through the snow towards him.
"Delores."
You gave Mr. Potter something, didn't you?"
"If you mean an extra reading assignment–"
"For his hand."
"Yes."
"How is the message supposed to sink in if he is coddled? Such mixed signals will never result in his improvement. I am trying to discipline him for his outrageous lies and actions against the Ministry, and you have shown him that he can just get away with whatever he wants to."
Severus noticed a few thestrals wandering amongst the barren trees at the edge of the forbidden forest. "Blood and potions do not mix well."
"You are determined to be stubborn?"
He found the best reply to this to be none at all.
"I had believed you to be on my side in this, Severus. It seems I was mistaken." Her face was scrunched in temper and annoyance, and he couldn't help but think that she was nothing compared to the real horrors he had faced in his life.
He huffed a humourless laugh into his mug.
"Something amusing?" she asked.
"No," Severus finally spoke, remembering Harry's worried face. Worried for him. "Nothing at all." He turned to look at her, flinty black eyes meeting bulging blue ones. "This is not a joke."
She gave a little shudder, slack mouth grimacing. He turned away from her without another word, and she stomped off.
In the forest, one of the thestrals lifted its head and looked directly at him.
