Seven Drops and Asphodel Blooms
Summary: When Harry blows up his aunt during the summer, Dumbledore is much quicker to react. Snape finds him far before the Minister does, but his plan of dropping him off with a lecture and half a dozen additional summer assignments doesn't work out.
In which Harry spends the summer at Spinner's End.
Chapter 19
"Did everybody remember to bring their tickets?" Mr. Weasley asked, rummaging through his pockets until he victoriously pulled out a wad of paper slips. "Harry, Hermione, I've got yours right here."
"We've got ours," Amos Diggory – the father of an older Hogwarts student, Cedric – said, giving his pocket a few good-natured pats.
Harry stifled a yawn, trotting after the others with his equally bleary-eyed friends. They'd needed to get up horribly early to make it in time to catch their portkey – another magical way of transportation that felt a little less awful than Apparition, but not by much.
"I didn't get one," Sirius said nonchalantly, which earned him an incredulous look from Mr. Diggory.
He'd been eying Sirius warily all morning – not much of a surprise, considering Sirius had dominated both wizarding and muggle news for the better part of the last year.
"What do you mean, you didn't get a ticket?" Mr. Weasley sputtered.
Sirius shrugged, hands buried in his pockets. "My bank account's still frozen. The Ministry's taking their sweet time reinstating me as a law-abiding citizen."
"Law-abiding," Ron snorted.
At least sneaking into a Quidditch game illegally was a significant downgrade from alleged violent mass murder.
"And how exactly do you expect to be let in?" Mr. Diggory sounded more puzzled than judgmental.
Sirius, instead of answering, gave them a smug grin.
Twenty minutes later they'd found their designated camping spot after biding the Diggorys goodbye, a huge black dog wagging its tail trailing after them. Harry's expression almost gave him away, and Ron kept smothering laughs whenever Sirius – or Snuffles, as they were supposed to call him while in disguise – chased after alarmed Ministry wizards with excited, thundering barks.
Even Hermione didn't say anything, though she did give him a disapproving look when he pranced at the Malfoy family, 'accidentally' knocking over Malfoy and getting mud all over his father's robes.
"It's not his fault the Ministry isn't unlocking his bank account, is it?" She shrugged. "Though I don't see what good antagonizing the Malfoys is going to do. He could get Mr. Weasley in trouble."
Sirius must have overheard her, because he held himself back a little after that.
The air swelled and buzzed with excitement as the start of the match inched closer. Harry had never experienced anything like it. By the time they followed the masses of people to the stadium, they were all laden with souvenirs: talking rosettes and flags and small replicas of snitches that could fly no further than just above your open palm.
Somebody had wrapped an Ireland flag around Sirius' neck, so now it fluttered behind him like a cape as he jumped between their legs.
It was no wonder, considering he hadn't had much to be excited about these past twelve years he'd spent wrongfully locked up in Azkaban. Harry grinned, feeling his godfather's boisterous mood rubbing off on him.
The stadium was huge. Harry lost himself in the thrill of screaming fans and the spectacle of the professional Quidditch players above them.
Sirius couldn't transform back as both the Malfoys and the Minister were in their line of sight, but he didn't seem to mind. He raced up and down the stands and barked along with the cheer of the crowd, his tail wagging so fast that whoever he was standing in front of was forced to take cover.
The twins' prediction came true as Ireland won despite Krum catching the snitch. Harry screamed himself hoarse alongside everybody else, wondering if his ears would ever be the same again.
"Must have been, what, our fourth, maybe fifth year? I don't remember, but it was Syria vs Madagascar in the finals. We couldn't go see it, but this one signature move of the Syrian chasers – it's still iconic, I'll have to show you – and James, right, he tried to mimic it even though he'd never seen it in action. It looked really impressive until he fell head-first into the lake."
The twins, Ron and Harry all laughed, sitting in a half-circle in front of a back-to-human Sirius. He'd been entertaining them with stories about Quidditch and his time at Hogwarts all evening.
It was probably a good thing that Hermione shared a tent with Ginny while Mr. Weasley had gotten side-tracked chatting with a Ministry acquaintance of his, because the twins were hanging onto Sirius' every word.
"I can't believe I haven't told you about that, Harry." Sirius nudged him with his elbow. "Your mother teased him for a year whenever he tried acting suave in front of her."
Exhaustion was starting to seep in as the excitement of the day began to settle, but Harry didn't want the day to be over yet. He wished he could stay in this moment forever.
It was late into the evening when Severus entered the library. Other than a half-asleep college-aged muggle, Severus was the only patron.
"No kid?" Bardsley said as she caught sight of him. "Just when I thought we were making progress."
"Neither him nor I exist to provide you with entertainment."
"Where is he then?" Bardsley pulled a face as she pulled out the chair at her front desk. A perfectly good walking cane was wedged into a corner. Severus had never seen her use it.
"At a sports game with a friend," he said. "He's spending the two weeks before the new term at their house."
"Meaning that afterwards, you'll both buzz off to that exclusive private school of yours."
She had the nerve to make it sound like Severus was doing her a huge injustice. Like he didn't have better things to do than humoring a nosy old woman and her absurd fixation on getting to know her patrons.
"I'd think you were trying to scare off visitors with that glower of yours, if there were somebody else here." Her computer powered up with a groaning whir and an obnoxious jingle. "Kid sounds like he's fine, if he's out with a friend."
She began typing at such a slow speed, Severus would have gladly taken the keyboard out of her hands and taken over, had he any clue about how a computer functioned. He watched her work, feeling restless.
When he could no longer bear it, he said, "He was given the choice to live with an estranged family friend."
"Oh?" Bardsley kept her eyes on her computer screen.
"His godfather." Severus succeeded in making himself sound detached instead of grudging. "He's had no contact with him before due to… complicated reasons. They seem to be getting along."
The low rattling noises of the computer filled the silence as Bardsley pressed excruciating button after excruciating button. "And?"
"He chose to stay."
"Sounds like that surprises you."
Severus bit back a derisive scoff only so. "I did not think he would agree to stay another summer in the first place."
She hummed. "You don't think highly of the kid's opinion of you, do you?"
"We did not have a particularly pleasant start," he bit out.
Her answer was drier than the summer heat outside. "If my memory serves me well, neither of you had a choice at the time."
He did not hold back his scoff this time. It was almost hilarious how little this woman knew. If she had even an inkling of the history between them… If she knew how he'd treated the boy before he'd come to live with him…
What would she say if she knew of the role he'd played in making him an orphan?
"For what it's worth, it's clear as rain that you give a damn about the kid," she said, utterly oblivious to his bleak thoughts. "Else you wouldn't try so hard to do right by him."
"And how would you possibly be able to tell?" he sneered. "You don't know a thing about me."
"And yet I kept hearing about him last summer, and I keep hearing about him now. Funny that, considering you could have dropped him off with the authorities ages ago."
Severus bit his tongue. As though it had been an option, when the authorities were so utterly incapable that they welcomed Dumbledore's meddling with open arms. As though it had been an option, when refusing would have meant directly disobeying Dumbledore's orders.
"Give the kid some credit," Bardsley said in a far too gentle tone. "If he's anything as stubborn as you told me, he can decide for himself where he wants to live."
She made it sound so simple. Like it wasn't a decision they might both learn to regret once Potter grew closer to Black and realized he'd made a huge mistake declining his offer to live at Grimmauld Place.
Bardsley frowned. "What's the matter with your arm?"
Severus halted his movement. He'd been rubbing it with his other hand. "Chronic pain," he lied and stood from his seat. "It is getting late."
"You sure you're okay?" She pushed herself up the same as he did, trying to pretend like her legs didn't cause her discomfort. "You need to take something for it?"
"At home," Severus said briskly.
"I won't hold you." She slowly eased herself back into her chair. "Don't wait too long to show your face next summer."
"We'll see." He was already heading for the door.
The pain was fading quickly as it always did, and yet... Severus yanked up his sleeve once he'd left the main street. The Mark looked no different than it always did: an ugly proof of his mistakes seared permanently into his skin.
He'd felt its presence several times over the past weeks, all but a parallel to Potter's curse scar acting up. There was something in the air. They'd been waiting for the Dark Lord's move for years, but Severus had the feeling they would not be waiting for much longer.
He yanked his sleeve back into place and took up a hasty stride towards Spinner's End. A heavy clump of foreboding settled behind his sternum.
He had trouble sleeping that night. The Mark crawled on his skin like a rash.
He'd resigned himself to a restless few hours before sunrise when a sharp pain flared up on his arm, gnawing as though somebody had lit his Mark on fire. He shot out of bed, heading straight for his fireplace.
Whatever this was, it couldn't wait. Something was happening, and he needed to find out what it was.
"Oh, thank goodness!" Mrs. Weasley hastened towards them across the grassy path in front of the Burrow, clutching her overcoat around her shoulders. She looked like she'd been standing inside her open doorway for a while.
As soon as she was close enough she pulled each of them – Harry and Hermione included – one after the other into a frantic hug.
"What happened?" she called out, her voice pitching into mild hysteria. "I've had a dozen different people call me on the Floo, but nobody could say for sure what was going on. All those rumors flying around! I didn't know if you were coming back or if something had happened! Come inside. Come on, quickly, all of you."
She somehow manhandled all of them into the kitchen with hot drinks pressed into their hands without ever interrupting her fretting.
"Molly," Mr. Weasley gently interrupted after she turned Fred's face this way and that for the third time. "We're all fine. Nobody was hurt. Bill and Charlie can fill you in on what happened–"
"And what about you?" Mrs. Weasley cut him off.
Mr. Weasley winced. "I only came here to drop them all off. The Ministry's in chaos. I have to head back and see what I can do to help."
"I as well." Percy puffed out his chest importantly before his mother could object. "We cannot stay home when there is such a mess to sort out."
"You're on vacation," Mrs. Weasley threw up her hands in exasperation. "And you've got your family to worry about. Isn't that enough reason to–"
A harsh knock from the front door interrupted her tirade.
"Oh, for the love of–" Mrs. Weasley bustled out of the kitchen.
Mr. Weasley and Percy seized the opportunity by draining their drinks, snatching up their coats and heading for the backdoor like teenagers sneaking out of the house after curfew. Harry might have found it funny, were he not busy trying not to fall asleep at the kitchen table. George had already given in and sat cushioned against an exasperated looking Bill.
"Professor Snape!" Mrs. Weasley's voice rang from the other room. "What are you doing here?"
Harry straightened up, his exhaustion forgotten. Mr. Weasley and Percy froze halfway to the backdoor, George jolted up with a disoriented grunt, and the rest of the Weasleys, Hermione and Sirius sent each other glances that Harry took great care not to take note of.
Snape strode over the doorway of the kitchen, a sputtering Mrs. Weasley trailing after him.
"Oh great," Sirius muttered, rolling his eyes.
"Headmaster Dumbledore sent me." Snape's eyes flickered over the room and dismissed every occupant before coming to rest on Harry. "What happened?"
"Why don't you come inside and take a seat?" Mrs. Weasley valiantly acted like Snape hadn't already invited himself inside. "I'll wipe up some more tea."
"Nobody was hurt," Mr. Weasley said when Snape wouldn't respond to Mrs. Weasley's offer. "That's what's important."
Snape stepped further into the room when Mrs. Weasley returned with the promised tea, strong-arming him towards the table and not accepting no for an answer. Sirius seemed to reluctantly accept his presence, because he didn't do anything other than let out a long-suffering sigh.
It felt weird being surrounded by the Weasley family with Snape in the same room. Harry tuned out Mr. Weasley as he once again recited what had happened after the Quidditch match. He sipped some more tea, glad that he wasn't the one doing the explaining.
"And the Ministry has no leads as to who could have conjured the Mark?" Snape asked.
Mr. Weasley grimaced. "They found Barty's house-elf carrying the wand that was used to cast it."
"Of course. Naturally the house-elf must have done it." Snape scoffed. "Always so ready to accept a convenient explanation disregarding logic or common sense."
"Exactly!" Hermione burst out. "It was despicable how they treated poor Winky."
There was a beat of silence. Snape didn't seem to know how to react to a student so passionately agreeing with something he'd said.
"I'm going to the Ministry now," Mr. Weasley said, starting another attempt at escaping through the backdoor. "Maybe they already know more."
But Harry could tell that nobody in the room really believed him, not even Mr. Weasley himself.
Tentative conversations were started after Mr. Weasley and Percy had gone, the Weasleys slowly getting used to Snape's silent presence.
Hermione dragged Bill and Fred into a discussion about the events of the evening.
"Isn't it a bad sign that they felt comfortable enough to do it?" Hermione was saying. "I've read all about the war and how dangerous it was to be accused because the Ministry wouldn't give everybody a fair trial. Why would they risk it for something like this?"
"It's been over a decade since then," Bill reminded her gently. "It's no wonder they're feeling overconfident."
Fred scoffed. "If known Death Eaters like the Malfoys can act all chummy with the Minister, why'd they be afraid of having a good laugh?"
Further down the table, Charlie and Ginny were in the middle of a heated argument over which Quidditch position required the most skill, egged on by George.
"Sure, playing as a seeker will get you the most fame," Ginny said, "but for most of the game you're just hanging in the air, watching everybody else get some action."
George ooh'd obnoxiously. "Are you going to let her get away with that?"
Charlie – usually extremely laid-back – looked ready to pummel his little sister. "Interesting way to talk about the player who'll decide the game more often than not."
"We just watched the player who caught the snitch lose anyway because he couldn't be bothered–"
"I said most often. And besides, anybody could smack a ball with a stick or toss it back and forth a few times. But the agility and reflexes needed to score the snitch–"
Another chair over, Ron was feeling scandalized at the discovery that Sirius had not yet gotten himself a replacement wand after the Ministry had snapped his own twelve years ago.
"I'd be going bonkers without mine," Ron was just saying. "I almost broke one in second year. Worst months of my life... Kept messing up what magic I meant to do. It's lucky they canceled all exams that year..."
"It doesn't feel great," Sirius admitted. "I'd thought once or twice of stealing one while on the run. 'course, a wand is only gonna work properly for you if it's chosen you. I'm just not sure I'm up for visiting Diagon Alley yet."
"You gotta have one, though! I'd offer to come with us to get our school supplies, but Mom's already taken care of all that... Maybe you could ask my parents to come along, if you're worried about people giving you a hard time. They've got a favorite pub they sometimes go to on the weekends."
Everybody seemed preoccupied. Harry, sensing his chance, scooted closer towards the other end of the table, where Snape had just managed to break free of Mrs. Weasley's interrogation of which of her children had the best chances of earning a N.E.W.T. in Potions.
Harry made sure that nobody was paying them any mind. "Did you feel it happen?"
This once Snape didn't chastise him for being vague. "As all did."
Harry dropped his eyes to the table. So every (former) Death Eater had felt the Mark being cast after the game. The masked ones terrorizing the Quidditch World Cup, those locked up in Azkaban, those somehow having avoided punishment, now living regular lives.
For a brief, nauseating moment Harry wondered if Snape had marched with the other Death Eaters to keep up appearances. He realized how unlikely that was almost immediately, considering it must have been a spontaneous affair: otherwise, surely Snape could have warned them. Or somebody.
After years of dreading Voldemort's return, it seemed like the wait was coming to an end.
"Could it have been–"
"Had he cast it," Snape interrupted, "they would not have dared to run."
Voldemort may have been out there, helped by Pettigrew to regain his former power, but he didn't seem to have succeeded yet.
"He rarely cast it himself even back then," Snape continued quietly, surprising Harry. "The majority of his victims were deemed unworthy of him raising his wand against them himself."
'Unworthy' to have the place of their murder degraded by their killer. What a horrible thought. Harry wondered how many of the people who'd fled at the sight of the Mark last night had once cast it themselves. Whether any of them felt even an ounce of shame at what they had once done. He wondered...
"Ask," Snape said, his voice a low whisper.
Harry noticed that his jaw was clenched painfully. He forced it to relax. "How many times have you cast it?"
Snape wouldn't answer, but Harry hadn't really expected him to.
Black cornered him outside after Mrs. Weasley had herded her brood, Potter, and Granger to their rooms for the night. Though Severus had hoped to take his leave unnoticed, he'd accepted the risk of such a thing occurring when he'd made the reckless decision to come here.
"There's something I need to say."
"Can it not wait?" Severus said impatiently.
"It can't." Black's arms were crossed tightly in front of his chest. "It's about Harry. And… us, I suppose."
Severus hesitated. He could invent an urgent appointment with Dumbledore. But if whatever Black wanted to say was important, and if it concerned the boy... "Be quick."
Black's jaw moved soundlessly, as though he was chewing on something bitter. "We're not exactly on good terms."
Severus rolled his eyes. "If you're merely stating the obvious–"
"I want to talk about why."
The words withered and fell to dust in his mouth. Severus swallowed against the sensation, saying nothing.
Black took his lack of objection as encouragement. "I know we – James and I – weren't exactly great people at school." He gave a humorless laugh. "I get it. Sometimes we– I admit it, we made your life hell. Guess we were pretty terrible kids. Not like you never retaliated."
"If this is supposed to be some kind of apology, it is a lousy one."
"An apology?" Black scoffed. "Okay, you know what? For that part? Yeah, fine. You're right. We were brats. Bullies, even. We were terrible, no-good, snobby little bullies who had fun tormenting you. We shouldn't have done that. It was terrible. I'm sorry."
The biting resentment never quite left his voice, but once he'd finished, Black clenched his jaw shut and closed his eyes. Considerably quieter, though without opening his eyes, he added, "I do mean that." His words carried sincerity Severus didn't know what to do with. "I am."
Instead of acknowledging any of what he'd said, Severus chose the easy route. "This is not the reason you started this conversation."
Black scowled. "I regret what we did. I do. I realize that in the worst case... I know some of the things we did were stupid and dangerous. I wish I could take it back." He balled his hands into fists. "But we didn't make you become a Death Eater."
Severus looked away. He'd seen it coming, but the accusation still had his spine turn stiff. He had half a mind to leave Black behind mid-conversation.
But Black needed no Legilimency to realize his discomfort. "We're talking about this. It's been too long already." He took a shuddering breath. "We were terrible to you, I get that. But being bullied, that's no excuse for joining them. Lashing out at us, that would have made sense. I'd be first in line to give my younger self a good punch. But you can't tell me you didn't know what you were signing up for. You're not like Peter."
"Such flattery," Severus said quietly.
"Don't do that." Black's scowl deepened. "Don't even try it. We didn't make you join them when you knew– knew exactly that they wanted to see people like Lily strung up or enslaved. That was on you. It wasn't our fault."
"I never claimed it was."
"Well, good." Black seemed to lose his momentum for a moment. "Because I wish I could change what I did as a kid, but you... I never killed anybody. I never... never supported a group of murderers. But you... You were with them. You did what they did. How many– Just– How many people have you–"
"Where are you going with this?" Severus whispered.
Black set his jaw. "I have no choice but to respect Harry's decision to have you in his life, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten. I'd try to keep him away from you if I didn't know you'd told him the truth. Merlin knows how he stomachs it. But I haven't forgotten you were still with them when he killed Lily and James."
Tension wound around Severus' shoulders so tightly that it ached.
"You're part of the reason they're dead," Black said quietly. "I don't know how Harry can stand being around you. I wouldn't be able to forgive that."
Severus needed a moment to find his voice. When he did it came out sounding distant, like he was hearing somebody use it from afar. "I've never asked for forgiveness."
"Because you're above that?"
"Because it is not something I expect to be given."
The next pause was long, drawn-out and uncomfortable. Black seemed not to know what to make of him. "Do you regret what happened?" he asked, his voice lowering into something urgent and firm.
"More than anything else in my life."
"So how can you look Harry in the eyes and not feel ashamed? How can you have him live with you?"
Severus gritted his teeth. "He needed help. He needed somebody. I had what he needed, so I stepped up."
"And that makes up for everything?"
Nothing would ever make up for the things he'd done. Severus knew that. He hadn't made peace with that exactly, but he'd made amends. He'd reached some sort of bitter acceptance.
Black wasn't satisfied with his silence. "How can you go on living with yourself?"
Like Severus had not pondered the very same question. Like he had not been tempted to put an end to everything, had Dumbledore not told him the following. "Killing myself would not erase my mistakes."
"Neither would living."
"Perhaps." Severus paused. "But at the very least I can make an attempt to rectify them."
"So that's why?" Black asked. "You're making up for what happened? I thought you weren't looking for forgiveness."
"Asking for forgiveness is not the same as seeking atonement."
Because while one might very well be unattainable, nobody had the might to deny him the latter.
A/N:
Harry, a few days earlier: It's been ages, why can't you both just move past this?
Sirius: How, if he still blames me for that time when I almost killed him?
Harry: You could apologize.
Sirius: Not to be dramatic, but I would rather kill myself.
xxx
One day these two will have a civil conversation with each other. Today is not that day.
xxx
Many thanks to To Mockingbird, Igornerd and flyingcat!
~Gwen