THE CAT'S OUT OF THE BAG
IN LOVING MEMORY OF DAME MAGGIE SMITH, who died 27th September 2024. You were the best Professor McGonagall we could hope for.
Hello, dear reader! Welcome back!
First of all, a thousand apologies for posting this chapter soooo late! I said that in august I'd be able to post more, since I'd be on holidays. As it turned out, I had more plans than ever before!
Anyway, enough of me.
ENJOY THE CHAPTER!
The following morning, as soon as Harry opened the door, Severus's smirk greeted him, his eyes glimmering with an almost mischievous spark. He sat upright in the armchair, exuding an air of alertness he hadn't seen in a while.
"Good morning," Severus said. "How are the eighteen years treating you?"
"Well, I don't have a madman trying to kill me this time," Harry replied as he approached, a grin spreading across his face. "That's an improvement, don't you think?"
Severus scoffed, and Harry chuckled, shaking his head.
"You're an idiot," he said as he sat down, "good morning, by the way. You look chirpy today! Is there anything you're not telling me?"
Severus feigned offence, with one hand on his heart.
"I do not look 'chirpy', Potter, who do you think you are talking to?" he said, eyes narrowed. Harry giggled as Severus's expression morphed into a smirk and his eyebrows rose.
"Poppy said I'm sufficiently recuperated and I'll be allowed to go back to the dungeons in only a couple of days," he said, unable to keep his smile off his lips.
"What? Severus that's great news!" Harry said as he leaned forward, beaming at him, "Oh, I'm sure you're dying to go back. But are you sure you're ready? There are a thousand stairs in this castle."
"It'll be challenging at the beginning, for sure," he admitted, "that is why she still wants to wait a few more days. But I believe I can manage."
Harry beamed at him.
The Severus he'd been getting to know was more open when it came to his emotions, he knew that. But seeing Severus so overjoyed, so unable or so unwilling to contain his excitement at the prospect of going back to the dungeons? Well, that did come as a surprise for Harry. A warm feeling spread through him, and he wished Severus could be this happy, always.
There was, however, a flicker of something beneath this joy. The castle was enormous. Severus, like everyone else in the castle, had been used to walking its corridors and climbing up and down hundreds of stairs every day.
But he hadn't done that in months, not by himself.
Could he truly handle the castle's daunting stairs and the long corridors without collapsing from exhaustion? And what if things got worse once he was on his own?
A shiver ran down Harry's back and he tried to suppress the urge to shake his head. Regardless of how concerned Harry was and the knot he felt in his chest, Severus's determination was inspiring and he wasn't about to break that.
"Seeing that dingy old place has you excited, hasn't it?" he asked, and Severus nodded.
"It's home," he simply said, and his voice was soft and low. He blinked and his lips turned into a small, melancholic smile.
Harry nodded and breathed out.
"Well, I think this calls for a celebration. How about something special for breakfast? Kreacher!"
As soon as he was summoned, Kreacher popped in, already with a tray full of food, coffee and tea, and the Daily Prophet.
"Wow, this is what I call efficiency, thanks Kreacher," Harry said with a chuckle, reaching to grab the newspaper.
However, Kreacher pulled away from his grasp. He curled into himself, trembling slightly, his ears drooping. Harry narrowed his eyes, bewildered.
"Kreacher? What's going on?" Harry asked, and his voice was soft.
"Kreacher… Kreacher has seen the first page, sir. Master… Master won't like it," he said with a high-pitched voice, and he pulled the tray closer to his body, "and the Professor neither…"
Harry turned around and saw Severus's narrowed eyes, suspicion and confusion written on his face. He turned back to Kreacher, taking another step towards him. The elf was looking down, avoiding his gaze, and he was shaking, this time more violently with Harry so close.
Harry knelt in front of him and gently grabbed the tray.
"Kreacher, it's fine. It's okay," he said in a soft voice, "remember what I taught you? That's right, look at me. Come on."
The sight of Kreacher trembling, his ears flat against his skull, made Harry's heart lurch. Once, he might have been quick to dismiss Kreacher's fears. But after he'd seen Kreacher endure on his own in that dusty dark place, he understood him far better now. He refused to let the elf continue treating himself as he once had or to suffer the same fate as his friend Dobby.
Harry gently took the tray from his hands, left it on the floor, and looked at Kreacher. When the elf looked back, with tears rolling down his cheeks, his eyes were huge, bulgy and wide in fear.
"You have nothing to fear, Kreacher. You've done nothing wrong, you didn't disobey me," he said, keeping his voice low and soft, "now, can you show me?"
Kreacher then sniffled, and using his hands, the paper flew towards him. He grabbed it and showed Harry the first page.
His heart almost stopped.
There was a photograph of Severus, arms crossed tightly over his chest, defiance etched into every line of his face. His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes glaring out from beneath greasy strands of hair. Harry recognized the image—it was taken when Snape had been named Headmaster of Hogwarts. The harsh lighting made his pale skin appear almost sickly, a yellowish tint that only accentuated the dark shadows under his eyes. The black robes hung on him like a shroud, too large for his gaunt frame. He looked more haunted than ever.
The headline was brutal:
Escaped Justice: Snape Survives
Ex-Death Eater Secretly Sheltered at Hogwarts
Harry gasped, his jaw tightening, fury coursing through him like wildfire.
The rage was immediate, fierce, coiling inside him. It wasn't just the venom Skeeter had surely spewed all over the article—though that alone was enough to send his blood boiling. It was the audacity.
Severus, who had sacrificed everything, who had barely clawed his way back from death, was being painted as a monster again? After all he had done, after everything he had given? How could they twist him into this?
The weight of guilt pressed down like a leaden hand on his chest. Severus had fought, suffered, and almost died in the shadows. And Harry—who had sworn to protect him—was failing again. How could this still be happening after all Severus had given?
The thought settled like a stone in his gut, his fists tightening at his sides. He couldn't fail him again. He wouldn't.
Across the room, Severus noticed the shift immediately. Rising from the armchair, his voice was low and edged with concern.
"Harry? What is it?"
Harry almost forgot Severus was in the room with him.
The moment felt surreal, like something distant and detached, until he felt the cold paper between his fingers. He silently took it from Kreacher and turned it around, revealing the damning headline.
Kreacher disapparated quietly, giving them space, but Harry's focus was entirely on Severus. His expression faltered, crumbling before Harry's eyes. The spark in his gaze, the faint hope of returning to some semblance of peace in the dungeons, vanished. His shoulders hunched, his head dipped—as if he had been physically struck by the weight of the words.
"How… how did they know?" Severus whispered, blinking rapidly, his voice tight with disbelief, nearly breaking.
Harry's chest constricted at the sound. Severus's voice, usually so controlled, now felt small—vulnerable in a way Harry hadn't heard before. It was as though he was struggling to push back tears, trying to hold on to some remnant of composure.
An ache twisted through Harry. He stood, newspaper clutched in his hands, and crossed the room. His heart pounded as he reached out, gently placing a hand on Severus's shoulder.
"It's okay, Severus," Harry murmured, voice low but steady. "Nothing's going to happen to you. I won't let it."
Severus nodded, but his eyes were distant, unfocused, blinking as if trying to clear away the storm of emotions clouding his vision. His breaths came faster, his chest rising and falling unevenly.
Without a word, they took a few steps towards the armchair, and Severus collapsed into it, his body sagging under the weight of it all. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping himself in the blanket as if it were a suit of armour. He stared at the wall, eyes unfocused, his entire body still, rigid in his attempt to hold himself together.
The change in Severus's demeanor was gut-wrenching.
After the few months together, after their argument, after the awful therapy session with Mrs Turner... Harry thought he'd seen Severus at his most vulnerable.
But he had never seen him like this—so utterly defeated by words on a piece of paper.
He sat beside him, something in him screaming to comfort him, to console him. He reached for his forearm, his fingers squeezing gently, offering a silent comfort.
"Read it," Severus whispered, the tremble in his voice betraying the fear and vulnerability he rarely let anyone see. "Please… I need to know."
As Harry looked at him, his heart ached. For so long, Severus had been a fortress—unreadable, closed off. But now? Now, he was crumbling. The man who had defied Voldemort, who had terrified Death Eaters and students alike, was curling into himself like a wounded animal. Crushed by the resurgence of old wounds.
Harry had never imagined words could hurt Severus—not like this. But this wasn't just words. This was the largest newspaper in the wizarding world, dragging Severus through the mud again. He could fight dark wizards, but fighting public opinion? It was like battling a ghost—an invisible enemy that never truly went away. Stigma had a way of sticking, no matter what had been done to set the record straight.
Harry sat across from Severus, flipping to page four. He glanced at Severus, who swallowed thickly and gave a weak nod; as if bracing himself for the blow.
And then, with a heavy heart and a tightening knot in his chest, Harry began to read aloud. Each word felt like poison. The awful introduction, the venomous phrasing, the twisted accusations—it made Harry's blood boil, his anger coiling tighter with every sentence.
Severus Snape, the Dark Wizard Who Cheated Death.
By Rita Skeeter
Few names in recent history are as steeped in infamy as that of Severus Snape, the former Potions Master of Hogwarts and Death Eater whose treacherous ascent to Headmaster during the final days of Voldemort's reign left a trail of misery and destruction in his wake. Feared for his mastery of the Dark Arts and loathed for his cold, calculating and downright cruel demeanour, Snape's reputation as a villain of the highest order was solidified the moment he raised his wand against Albus Dumbledore—an act that earned him a place in history's darkest pages.
For months, we were led to believe that Snape met a fitting end during the Battle of Hogwarts. Yet, as always with the slippery Severus, there appears to be far more lurking beneath the surface than anyone could have guessed.
Thanks to an exclusive tip from one of St. Mungo's most dedicated and, dare I say, brave therapists, we can now reveal that Severus Snape is, in fact, alive. Mrs. Agatha Turner, a renowned healer and physical therapist, was dispatched to Hogwarts only a few weeks ago to begin a recovery regimen with none other than Snape himself. According to Mrs Turner, what began as a professional assignment swiftly devolved into a dangerous encounter, resulting in her immediate dismissal after just five minutes in the same room as Snape! Fired by none other than the war hero, Harry Potter himself—for reasons still unclear.
"He looked as twisted and menacing as ever," Mrs Turner bravely recounted, clearly shaken by the experience. "I wasn't there long, but the man I saw... I've never been so relieved to leave a patient's side. And Potter? Seems to have completely lost his mind, almost fanatical in his defence of that man..."
One must wonder what extraordinary hold Severus Snape has over Harry Potter. Why does the young hero stand by him with such fierce loyalty, even to the point of dismissing a healer—someone he was supposed to trust? It raises more questions: Could there be more to their budding friendship than meets the eye? Is it possible that Snape has masterfully woven his influence around Potter, the war hero? It wouldn't be the first time the former Professor has attached himself to the winning side—some of you might recall..."
"Stop, stop," Severus interrupted and clenched his jaw, his body almost shaking in anger, he seethed, "How dare she even… suggest that I—you—,"
The implications of what she was suggesting were huge, it wasn't lost on Harry.
Severus struggled to maintain control, his fists clenched tightly in his lap, trembling with barely restrained fury. His eyes were trained on the wall in front of him, as if he wanted to burn a hole into it, and Harry was sure that if he had something in his hands it would be shattered to pieces by now.
"I knew that bitch would give us trouble. I should've—"
"No," Severus interrupted, firmly, "I won't let you taint your name for a low-born wench. She doesn't deserve it."
But Severus was seething with anger, his hands clenched at his sides, his shoulders squared and back straight. And no question it was justified, he had given everything, including his life, for the cause. And now, not only could he not shake his past, it was plastered all over the Daily Prophet.
Harry closed the paper and threw it on the bed, not even finishing the drivel and vitriol the therapist had told Rita Skeeter.
Who knew how much she'd been paid for it.
"Severus, I won't let her have power over you," Harry said, leaning forward and placing a hand on his arm. "She doesn't dictate your life anymore. No one does."
"The damage is done," Severus replied, his voice hard. "How long before Minerva's office is flooded with howlers?"
"They're just howlers," Harry said. "Minerva won't let anyone near you. Besides, it was going to be public soon anyway—once the students returned, they'd know you were back. But what drives me up the wall is the poison that woman's spewed through her filthy mouth. And now she's got a kindred spirit in Skeeter—of course, that bitch would jump on it."
Despite the severity of the situation, Severus's eyes gazed at him, an eyebrow raised.
"What? I know you don't like bad language, but that's the least she deserves. I should've obliviated her before she left," Harry said, staring back at him.
Severus didn't argue—just gave a slight nod, his anger still simmering but contained.
Harry leaned forward slowly, nuzzling Severus's nose with a tender rub, his hand cradling Severus's cheek.
"It's alright," Harry murmured in a low, soothing voice. "You're safe here, Severus. I won't let anyone hurt you, not in this castle. Don't let her ruin your day—she doesn't have that power."
Severus sighed, barely nodding.
"You're right, of course. It couldn't stay hidden forever, but…" He glanced at the crumpled newspaper. "I had hoped for a fresh start, without this," he gestured the paper with his head, "following me."
"And you can have that," Harry insisted, his voice firm yet gentle. "Half of what she wrote is complete rubbish. Lies. They don't know you, not really. You're safe here—with me."
Severus blinked slowly, resting his forehead against Harry's shoulder. Harry wrapped his arm around him in a gentle embrace.
"What about the students?"
Harry hesitated, then considered his words.
"Well, you've got a reputation, especially with the Gryffindors," he said, eyes ahead. "But you've changed, Severus. You're not the same professor we knew. You could set the record straight, tell your side of the story when classes start. I think they'll see you for who you are now."
He squeezed Severus's shoulder, offering comfort.
"No need to worry," Harry whispered. "If all else fails, no one's going to mess with the Hero of the Wizarding World."
Severus's lips tightened as if unsure how to respond, eyes shifting away.
"It's one of the perks of having you as my—" He faltered.
Harry smiled softly and tilted his head, pressing his nose to Severus's temple. A warm sensation spread through him.
"Go on, Severus. Say it. Your friend. You won't jinx it," he whispered, kissing his temple. Severus's body trembled slightly, and he hid his face, avoiding Harry's gaze.
"I know this is new for you," Harry continued, his voice steady. "But as my friend, your safety is my priority. We'll let the dust settle, alright?"
Severus gave a small nod, and Harry slowly released him.
"Breakfast?" Harry suggested.
Severus glanced up, giving a sad smile, then nodded.
As Harry poured them both coffee, his mind raced. Severus was right—the cat was out of the bag. Now everyone would know Severus was alive. And the Ministry would be the next to find out.
Perhaps it was time to send a message to Kingsley Shacklebolt. Former Auror, Harry knew the new Minister would support him and stand by him, especially given what he knew about Severus. He was there at the battle of Hogwarts, he'd heard Harry telling Voldemort about Severus's true allegiance.
And the last thing the Ministry needed was to stand against Harry Potter—the saviour of the Wizarding World.
As the reality of the situation settled in, Harry realized how familiar this felt—being thrust into a position of leadership he'd never wanted. The war had forced him into it, and now, even in peacetime, the mantle remained.
But this time, he could shape it into something meaningful.
It had taken years for Harry to truly understand the weight of his name. He hadn't sought power, hadn't wanted it. But he couldn't deny its presence anymore. And though part of him still craved a normal life, he accepted that normalcy wasn't in the cards.
Not for Harry Potter at least.
If he had to carry this burden, he would use it to protect those who mattered. And if it came to it, Severus was worth every ounce of it.
Perhaps it was time for a quiet word with the Minister.
….
They hadn't truly eaten breakfast. Both had lost their appetite.
Severus, though simmering with quiet rage, made a visible effort to compose himself, pushing forward despite the weight of Rita's article. Harry remained close, instinctively knowing there was nowhere else he needed to be.
The damage couldn't be undone, but in the comfortable silence between them, there was a familiar warmth. Some of the tension began to ease. The morning passed in hushed murmurs, their conversation scattered and brief.
It was just after noon, the sun high in the sky, when a sharp knock cut through the room. Harry's heart jolted as the door creaked open to reveal Headmistress McGonagall. Her posture was rigid, head held high, eyes sharp with determination as she approached.
"Severus?" she began, her gaze flickering to the crumpled Daily Prophet on the nightstand before landing on him, then Harry. "I take it you've seen the article."
"Indeed," Severus said, his voice clipped and tight.
"I've received quite a few owls this morning," she continued, her face hardening. "I'll spare you the disgusting filth some parents have seen fit to send, but there's one letter you might want to see."
Harry blinked, caught off guard by McGonagall's rare use of a curse, her Scottish accent growing more pronounced with it. She handed Severus the letter, and his eyes narrowed as they landed on the familiar script.
He recognized it instantly.
"Malfoy," Severus murmured, his gaze fixed on the parchment. McGonagall gave a tight nod.
"They've requested a meeting. Here, at the castle. If you'd rather not..."
"It's fine," Severus said, reaching for the letter. "I can handle this."
"As you wish," Minerva replied, her tone steely. "Draco Malfoy hasn't requested to return this term, but they are welcome here—if you can call a traitor welcome." Harry noticed her lips tighten into a thin line, her nostrils flaring.
"Many consider me a traitor too, Minerva. Don't forget that," Severus shot back.
She nodded sharply, then turned on her heel, leaving with her back straight. Harry glanced at Severus, who had moved to the window, leaning against the glass as he scrutinized the letter. His expression drained of colour as he read, eyes racing over the page.
Malfoy.
The name still sent an odd, uncomfortable feeling through Harry. A name wrapped in memories of rivalry, of cruelty, but also of strange, reluctant alliances in the war's final day.
They weren't enemies anymore—not in the clear-cut way they had once been. If Lucius, Draco and Narcissa had mourned Severus, maybe they had changed too. Maybe, like Severus, they were trying to carve out a place for themselves in a world that had already judged them.
They had done wrong, but how much of it had been because they hadn't been able to change course, to abandon what they started when they were young? Had they even wanted to? Had they been true to Voldemort all along, unable to break their chains?
Severus had made a bad choice once, and was still paying for it. The proof was the damned article on the Daily Prophet.
Perhaps the Malfoys hadn't been able to escape their destiny either.
But could Harry trust them? Could he let Severus trust them?
"Will you let them come see you? Severus, I don't think—"
Severus shook his head, the hair billowing with his movement. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the movement, as he raised his gaze.
"They mourned me, Harry," he said, his voice low and strained. "Draco… they've recognized their mistakes. Yes, they've committed heinous acts, but so have I. They have their own morals; they're just different from ours. They respected me. I owe them at least this."
"You don't owe anything to anyone, Severus, I thought we were clear on that," Harry replied, his voice taut.
Severus looked down, silent.
Harry then sighed, and walked up to him, until his trainers were nearly touching Severus's slippers.
"I won't stop you if you want to see them, I understand. They were your friends, after all, even if I don't understand this type of friendship," he whispered, "just… I just want you to be careful. They can be evil, and—"
"Once I was evil for you too, don't you remember that?" he interrupted, "to them, I was playing their game, I was doing the Dark Lord's bidding. I was one of them."
He looked away, his eyes looking through the window, gazing at the grounds outside.
"Harry, this goes beyond the Dark Lord and taking the Dark Mark. I might have been working against the Dark Lord's cause, but the Malfoys respected me. Gave me their friendship, invited me to their Manor. Lucius took me under his wing, and gave me more than any angry young boy with my background could ever aspire to. They accepted me, as I am."
Harry took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, nodding.
He couldn't deny the truth of his words.
He had long accepted that Severus might have been working for the side of the light, for the cause, for Lily. He might have been forced to do things under Dumbledore's orders, and might have given his life for what he believed was right.
But the place he'd been most accepted and respected was in Voldemort's inner circle.
What an irony.
"I understand, Severus. I really do," Harry said, smiling softly.
Severus's eyes darted towards him, his eyebrows close together, his mouth downward.
"It doesn't bother you, does it?" he asked.
And his voice sounded so unsure of himself, so far from what Severus's voice had been like, that he could do little else but close the distance and wrap his arms around his waist, pulling him in.
"Severus, you don't have to do anything to keep me content. If you want to see them, even if I didn't agree with it, you have to do it," Harry said, "I'm not exactly thrilled at the idea, but…" he shrugged, and then tilted his head, "they mourned you. The pain of mourning a friend should never be taken lightly. And it must count for something."
Nodding, Severus let his body rest against Harry's, his head falling onto his shoulder.
"I won't make you stay in their presence, of course, if you'd rather not stay," Severus said, "but I…"
Harry smiled, something warm spreading from his lower belly, and he tightened his hold on him.
"I doubt they'll want me here, at least not at first," he said, "but if you want me here, I will come."
Severus's stance changed as he let more of his body lean into Harry, resting his head against his.
"Thank you. I would like that," he murmured.
Harry stroked his hair as he nodded, and tightened his hold on him.
Severus, seemingly satisfied, sighed as he let Harry hold him.
With Severus in his arms, the letter still in Severus's fingers as he held him, Harry wondered how much Severus would want the Malfoys to know about their friendship and how it developed.
He had had a reputation with them, but with Harry all that was gone. He doubted he would be comfortable either way, but for Severus, he was willing to do it.
AND THAT'S IT!
OMGGG the cat's out of the bag! THE MALFOYS ARE COMING!
How do you think the conversation will go? So exciting! Hahah
I am not going to promise a specific time for updates. In recent years I was able to maintain a schedule of updating once a week, and I'd like to return to that, but with my job hours, it's difficult.
So, while I'll try to get back to one chapter a week, I can't promise anything. Just know that this story isn't abandoned, I have plenty of ideas to include and it's going strong. I'm excited for what's to come! Just bear in mind that life, sometimes, gets in the way.
That's also why I appreciate all of you who click, read and comment this story, your support while I'm forced to be away and can't write means a lot to me.
Thank you! See you soon!