Secret Snarry Swap: FIC: Facing Facts Title: Facing Facts Author:nuclearpolymer Other pairings/threesome: NA Rating: PG Word count: 3500 Content/Warning(s): NA Prompter/Prompt: No. 46 from suitesamba: Dudley makes a last ditch plea to his cousin Harry - stop my mom from marrying Severus Snape! Summary: After Dudley begs him to save Aunt Petunia from dating Severus Snape, Harry can't stop thinking about his former Potions professor. A/N: Many thanks to G for helpful & kind beta reading.
It wasn’t a bad life, Harry thought. Certainly a lot better than actually being dead, which was one of the leading rumors about his unexplained disappearance. The Daily Prophet really lacked imagination. If Xenophilius Lovegood had still been publishing The Quibbler, he’d have definitely come up with something more intriguing.
Harry finished off his eggs and toast hurriedly. He was running late for work again, for no particularly good reason he could explain. Lately, the fact that his job was so predictably undemanding had started to feel just a bit boring. For years, a quiet life where no one needed him to save the world and nobody paid special attention to his name or his scar had seemed like it would be unimaginably heavenly.
Heaven probably did get to be rather humdrum after a few hundred years. Maybe he had a lower than average attention span or a higher than average need for excitement, as it had only been ten years since the Battle of Hogwarts.
Harry arrived at the bicycle shop where he worked. He was out of breath from pedaling hard to shave a few minutes off his commute and was just locking up his bike when a heavy hand grabbed his shoulder. Harry turned quickly, elbowing the man in the stomach before realizing it was Dudley.
“Har…Harry,” gasped Dudley. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Sorry, I thought you were, well, a mugger or something.”
“Look, this is going to sound bonkers, but I really need your help,” Dudley said. “Something horrible is happening, and you’re the only one who can stop it.”
Harry sighed. Things looked like they were about to get interesting. ----------
“So you’ve been living in Greater Whinging this whole time?” Harry asked. Dudley had been trying to explain the crisis, but had gone way back and started from the point when he and Harry had last seen each other.
“See, those Wizard body guards said that none of the Death Eaters would bother to look too hard for us, once we’d left the old house. Mum used to go to a book club in Greater Whinging, and it was also pretty close to a drill company that competes with Grunnings. Dad thought that with a new identity, he could probably get a job there, since he’d be bringing a bunch of Grunnings secrets along with him. Then, later, once things had calmed down, he could go back to Grunnings and bring the other company’s secrets back.”
“Complicated, but I could see that working,” said Harry.
“Except he had a heart attack a few months later, so he didn’t get to do the second part of the plan,” said Dudley.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I, uh, guess that must have been tough for you and your mum.”
Dudley closed his eyes. “I know he was hard on you, but he was my role model, you know? Moving to a new neighborhood, changing schools, losing my Dad…that was the worst year ever.” He cleared his throat. “I got a job after finishing school, and me and Mum got along alright by ourselves. I know she always missed him, and I never thought she’d date or anything. Then this year, she started going out sometimes without telling me where she was going…”
“Wait,” said Harry. “Aunt Petunia dating someone is the terrible thing you need my help with?”
“No! Yes, but not really.”
“Okaaay. You know I had to ask for the day off to handle a family emergency. My boss is not going to think that my cousin not wanting his mum to date someone counts as an emergency.”
“She’s been seeing a super creepy Wizard! I followed her and saw him holding her hand, and his name is Severus Snape!” ----------
Harry could not imagine his Aunt Petunia dating. He could not imagine Severus Snape wooing her. He could not and did not ever want to imagine them canoodling together. It was impossible to square Dudley’s bizarre theory with the knowledge that Snape had spent so many years tortured by the memories of losing his only friend and being responsible for her death. Snape was not the sort of person who ever forgave and forgot. Harry felt certain that Snape’s bad memories of Petunia as Lily’s unkind older sister would put her permanently into the “not even if they were the last person left on the earth” category for romantic interest. But why would the two of them be meeting?
Even after leaving the wizarding world, Harry had kept up with the Daily Prophet. In the weeks right after the war, he’d been too numb and dazed to feel more than mildly surprised to read that Snape had survived. By the time McGonagall had managed to get Snape exonerated, using memories that Dumbledore had left, Harry still couldn’t register more than a vague satisfaction. The years had passed, and eventually he’d pretended to be okay long enough that he often felt almost normal. He’d rejoiced to find out that Hermione became Minister of Magic, smiled at each picture of her and Ron and their growing family, and cheered when Ginny led the Holyhead Harpies to victory for three years in a row. Everyone seemed to be doing just fine without Harry. But there had never been any more news about Severus Snape, and Harry was no more than mildly curious. He hadn’t thought of Snape for years.
Or so he’d told himself. After talking to Dudley, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about the man and the memories he’d shared. Would Snape have finally felt free, after he told Harry the truth about the last Horcrux? Would he have eventually figured out a good way to live his bonus life, after somehow surviving Nagini’s meant-to-be-fatal attack? And if he had figured out how to find a meaningful life after not dying when it was time to die, could he teach Harry how to do it too?
Harry snorted. It was a bit mental, hoping that the professor who tried to teach him Occulumancy by breaking into his head could guide him toward inner peace. But Snape was also the Half-Blood Prince, who’d taught him that it was all too easy to almost kill someone before realizing that you didn’t mean to, and the duelist who’d demonstrated how to use Expelliarmus. He couldn’t help hoping that the bravest man he knew, the man who had kept on doing the necessary thing when everyone in the world was against him, might be able to tell him how to really live.
Of course, he wasn’t going to try to break up a budding romance between the woman who’d tormented him at home and the man who’d tormented him at school, just to do Dudley a favor. But Harry couldn’t stop wondering what was really going on. At 3am, he realized that he hadn’t cared so much about anything since the end of the war. At 5am, he admitted that he wasn’t going to be able to rest until he knew why Snape had been meeting up with Aunt Petunia. ----------
Harry figured that there was no way Aunt Petunia would set foot in the wizarding world, so they must have been meeting in a Muggle neighborhood. However, the blind luck that had somehow led Dudley to blunder into Harry did not work as Harry tried his best to run into Snape and Aunt Petunia. As much as he tried to lurk in cafes across Greater Whinging, he never so much as saw his aunt, let alone her with Snape.
It was time to think more strategically. Trying to come up with a plan that made more sense than random lurking made Harry miss Ron and Hermione. It was so much harder trying to hatch a hare-brained scheme on his own. Hermione would have come up with at least three alternative explanations for why Snape and Aunt Petunia might meet up, before trying to convince him that it wasn’t really any of his business anyways. Ron would have figured out some way to track down and eavesdrop on their next meeting. Ron and Hermione would have argued about privacy rights and when it was okay to snoop on people you didn’t like.
He considered the direct approach, simply showing up at Aunt Petunia and Dudley’s place and sitting her down for a friendly chat. Harry couldn’t imagine how to coerce or wheedle any information out of her. He couldn’t even imagine that she’d let him past the doorstep. He considered a more subtle approach, where Dudley could hint around that if his mother was ever seeing anyone, he’d be glad to meet them. Harry shook his head, dismissing this idea as even more ridiculous. Dudley could never manage to be subtle, and if his mother was already being secretive, there was definitely some reason she didn’t want Dudley to know about Snape.
What if he got his wand out again and dove back into using magic? Harry couldn’t think of a single charm or spell that would help him figure out why two people were meeting. Professor Trelawny would have told him to read the tea leaves or look into a crystal ball. Harry rolled his eyes, remembering how completely useless the Divination classes had been.
With a pang, Harry remembered asking Dobby to help track down Mundungus Fletcher. He could picture Dobby popping into a cafe and completely failing to be inconspicuous to either Snape or Aunt Petunia. Harry imagined Dobby’s triumphant smile as he levitated a tray of heavily frosted cupcakes to drop onto their heads, and the vision was as good as a Cheering Charm. Suddenly, his mental picture changed. Instead of glaring sourly at Dobby, Harry could see Snape smiling. Then, Snape waggled his eyebrows and took a bite out of a slightly squashed cupcake before licking the icing off the tips of his long fingers.
Harry shook his head to clear his mind. He hadn’t been drinking and there was no one around to have befuddled him. Why was he daydreaming about an impossible version of Snape? And why was this version of Snape giving Harry a come-hither look? --------
A week later, Harry was ready to tear his hair out. His daydreams had gotten increasingly intrusive. While brushing his teeth, he’d picture Snape lecturing in Potions, gnashing his teeth and looking down his nose disdainfully before insulting Harry’s latest brewing efforts through a tightly clenched jaw. Then the picture would change, and Snape would be murmuring soft and sweet nonsense, breathing in quick gasps through a slightly opened mouth. While buttering toast, Harry would remember Snape deriding the way Ron held a knife, mockingly asking if Ron intended to make a mess spreading marmalade or was simply on his way to wasting half the useful pulp from a shrivelfig. Before he could get mad about the way Snape always picked on the Gryffindor students, the memory would change into a daydream of the man skillfully assembling hors d'oeuvres. In Harry’s imagination, Snape nimbly used a silver knife to cut a thinly sliced round from a baguette, apply a quick smear of mustard, carve a few choice pieces of roast beef…and then fed Harry the delicious creation. While looking through his daily mail, Harry would envision the tight black handwriting that the Half-Blood Prince used to write all over the margins of his Potions textbook, and fantasize about seeing that same handwriting on an invitation to drop by at midnight and try some highly detailed naughty ideas.
Harry’s boss at the bicycle shop had become increasingly impatient with this woolgathering. Finally, he threw Harry out of the shop with the command to just take the day off, chase down the object of his new obsession, do whatever was necessary to get it out of his system, and then come back with a clear mind. This seemed like good advice, but Harry knew it wouldn’t be easy to knock any of those tasks off the list (except for taking the day off). Even if he wanted to track down Severus Snape, he’d been gone from the Wizarding world long enough that showing up now would certainly raise a ruckus.
Or would it? Maybe that whole war with Voldemort and devastation to Hogwarts had only seemed like a big deal to Harry since he had a front row view. Maybe it was such old news that everyone would be more concerned about this year’s contenders for Witch Weekly’s Most Winning Smile contest than the return of the Boy Who Lived?
Harry thought about his friends and classmates, all the people he’d walked away from. The prospect of facing their inevitable anger and disappointment after they found out that he’d simply chosen to drop out of contact was crushing. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville…he couldn’t face trying to answer their questions about why he’d left and why he’d stayed away so long. It wasn’t anything he could describe or explain. His behavior didn’t even make sense to himself.
Then, Harry remembered the uncanny way that Luna sometimes knew exactly how he was feeling. After the Battle of Hogwarts, she knew he’d want to disappear for a while. She’d even helped create a distraction.
Before he could second-guess his sudden urge, Harry Apparated to the garden that led to the Lovegoods’ old house. Since The Rookery had been in the process of collapsing from an Erumpent horn explosion the last time Harry had been there, he had no idea what he’d find.
It looked like Luna and her father had been inspired to try something new. Instead of a tower, there was now a futuristic looking geodesic dome. Harry walked up the garden path, passing the familiar looking dirigible plum patch and a row of sunflowers that swiveled their faces toward him. Their old eagle door knocker looked a bit out of place against the smooth, almost plastic looking surface covering the dome. As soon as Harry touched the door knocker, Luna appeared at the door.
“I thought you’d come by today. Did you see the Lookout Sunflowers that Neville brought? They were happy to see you, and so am I.”
“Those are nice sunflowers…but how did you know I was coming?”
“Because Professor Snape came yesterday, to ask if I had any of your old shoes or socks. Since I had a pair of your socks that you gave me when I couldn’t find any of my own, I figured the charm would bring you here before you went to find him.”
“Professor Snape put a charm on a pair of socks I gave you?”
“Of course not, Harry. That would be silly. He put a Wander-Over charm on you but needed a pair of your socks or shoes to do it.” Luna handed him a small paper bag. “I packed you some snacks because it’ll probably be a longer journey to wherever he’s staying these days. He isn’t at Hogwarts anymore, you know. I’d invite you in, but you’re probably itching to get going again. Come again anytime. Neville will be here for dinner on Sunday; you could bring Professor Snape, too.”
Harry tried to thank Luna for her help and ask more about the Wander-Over charm, but she just waved and shut the door. He had no idea why Snape would be trying to guide his footsteps, but the more immediate problem was that charm or no charm, Harry still had no idea where he was supposed to go next. Whatever magical urge had helped him decide to go to Ottery St Catchpole was not putting any new destinations into his head. He sat down on the doorstep and opened the bag that Luna had given him.
Harry passed over the gurdyroot pickles and bit into a caramel popcorn with pumpkin seeds. It reminded him of the elaborate desserts served at Professor Slughorn’s parties. He remembered how Luna had told him about the Rotfang conspiracy at the Christmas party while he tried to figure out what Snape and Draco were up to. Snape had looked at the cheese balls as if they were personally insulting and hadn’t even tasted the champagne. The picture changed. Snape was now swirling a glass goblet with a cloudy silver liquid, inhaling the scent and half-closing his eyes. He tapped one finger on the goblet and moved his lips as if speaking, but Harry couldn’t hear the words. The silver substance swirled out of the goblet and into the air. The only thing he could still see clearly in the room was Snape’s eyes, looking directly into his own. His eyes were like a beacon, as intense and urgent as the last time Harry had seen him in the Shrieking Shack. --------
Before Harry even realized that he was Apparating, he disappeared from Luna’s doorstep and found himself in a Starbucks standing near a table where Severus Snape was intently examining Aunt Petunia’s hand.
“Your cooperation in this matter has been…nearly adequate. As discussed, I have brewed a custom batch of anti-aging cosmetic for your recompense. It will be packaged in plain brown wrapping paper and delivered to your home by Muggle means.”
“And the rest of what you promised? I don’t want any of your lot turning up ever again.”
“Your only value to the Wizarding World was your blood connection to Harry Potter. As I have succeeded in permanently severing the bloodlines tying you to your biological family, that connection to Harry Potter no longer exists. Thus, no wizard will see any benefit or purpose to further interactions with you.”
“Good riddance to bad rubbish!” said Petunia. She snatched her hand from Snape’s grip, wiped it on a napkin, and hurried out of the cafe without even a glance in Harry’s direction.
“Potter. No doubt you are highly confused and haven’t the slightest idea why you’re here.” Snape didn’t look over at Harry either, but he gestured at the empty chair. “A moment of your time, if you would.”
“Luna told me you cast a charm, but she didn’t say why.”
“You remember, I imagine, the rather dramatic circumstances under which we last spoke.”
“I’m sorry, Professor. I was sure that you’d died. I never would have left you there if…”
“If I hadn’t looked so convincingly dead? As you know, Potter, death is not always quite what we think.” Snape finally looked at Harry. “As soon as I was able to, I gathered up my memories from Dumbledore’s pensieve. Everything seemed to be in good order, and it was actually something of a relief that at the end, I’d been able to simply show you what you needed to know.”
“Yeah, I probably wouldn’t have believed it if you’d just sent a letter or something. And I wouldn’t have agreed to meet up with you for a little heart-to-heart.”
“Dumbledore was always one to overestimate his epistolary powers, but even he admitted that some things must be communicated with more than words. I have gone to some trouble to track you by your mother’s bloodline and set your feet onto a particular path so that we may meet.”
“I guess I haven’t exactly been easy to get a hold of lately. How’d you know I wasn’t dead?”
Snape picked up his coffee and tapped it on the table, keeping his eyes away from Harry. “I believe that between the Occlumency lessons and the pensieve viewing, there has been some amount of…cross-contamination. Because the anomalous images I have been seeing this year seemed so entirely unlikely to have come from you at the age of 16 or 17, I concluded that this cross-contamination was not a one-time mix-up of components from our prior memories. Rather, my guess is that we have a small bandwidth, intermittently active, residual connection.”
“What? Those weird daydreams I’ve been having are coming from you?”
“Of course not. This is nothing so crude as actively putting thoughts into someone’s head, or even inadvertent eavesdropping.” Snape looked vaguely over Harry’s shoulder and blinked emphatically. “You are definitely not seeing my fantasies, and I am definitely not seeing yours. It’s maybe…sort of a feedback loop.” He cleared his throat. “It may be permanent.”
“You mean I’m going to keep imagining you, um, doing things? Things that you’d never really do?”
“We might make an experiment to establish a solid baseline in reality, rather than flights of fancy. Daydreams are as fragile as soap bubbles. They must surely wither upon contact with cold, hard, facts.”
“Sure, I’m game.”
Snape grabbed both of Harry’s hands and Apparated them straight into his bedroom. ------
A day and a half later, they’d managed to establish a solid baseline in reality. Some parts of the reality they mapped out were in fact very hard, but there wasn’t much cold nor withering. Other parts of reality were pleasantly soft, exquisitely sharp, or dreamily blurry.
“I don’t think we’ve stopped my daydreaming yet.” Harry said. “But maybe we could try a few more things…”
“It’s best to be thorough and exhaustive when experimenting,” agreed Snape.