Snarry-a-Thon11: FIC: Don’t Judge a Book... Title: Don’t Judge a Book... Author:slu64 Rating: PG Word count: ~5,900 Warning(s): None. Prompt: #127: Harry starts working at Hogwarts where mystery and Snape keep Harry on his toes. Summary: Harry comes to work at Hogwarts and finds something more than he expected. A/N:All work in regards to Potter & Co. is for entertainment purposes only and not for profit of any kind. Also, huge thanks to triomakesmehot for plot points and starstruck1986 for her wonderful beta and brit-picking skills to make me a better writer.
Don’t Judge a Book...
Harry stood on the grassy knoll overlooking the Black Lake on one side and Hogsmeade on the other. The breeze was strong for the first day of September, but not uncommon for the Highlands around the castle, he recalled. He wrapped his arms across his chest as the sun warmed his face. He had always wondered what the professors did while they waited for the Express to arrive from King's Cross, and now he knew.
Nothing, or very little.
It was a waiting game today for most of them, even him, the newest member of the staff. His gaze stretched over the Wizarding village to the train station and through the valley beyond, as if willing the Express to arrive. It was his first year of teaching and he was eager to begin. Eager to prove there was more to him than dark wizard catcher or famed boy wizard. Harry snorted with a grin at how differently he was perceived by those who didn’t know him.
The snap of a twig brought Harry from his reverie. With a twist of his head he saw Mr. Filch moving across the green expanse of garden. Where did he come from? Harry glanced back at the castle where the man must have come from, but there were no entrances on this side of the castle, only trees and shrubs along the wall.
The man was dressed in his usual long tattered coat that Harry suspected was the same one the caretaker had worn throughout Harry’s own years at Hogwarts. Hung over his shoulder was a satchel laden with something heavy, noticeable by the way it prevented his coat from billowing in the wind.
“Mr. Filch.” Harry called, watching the downtrodden man jolt to a stop and then turn slowly to face him.
“Ah, Mr. Potter,” Filch greeted, as Harry came to stop a few feet away. The scraggly old man hadn’t changed much, other than he didn’t sneer Harry’s name any more. “Enjoying the last of the quiet?” Harry merely nodded and watched the man’s discomfort. He noticed how he stood stiffly with his hand protectively held over the bulging bag at his side.
“Going into Hogsmeade, Mr. Filch? The Express is due any time isn’t it?” Harry saw Filch’s eyes flick past him and Harry followed them back to the blank side of the castle trimmed in beautifully manicured landscaping. Nothing. Harry heard the tinkling of glass from Filch and turned to face him.
“Two hours, sir. I’m just making a delivery to the village.” The solid chink of glass against glass came to Harry again as Filch began stepping backwards in his attempt to leave. “Back in plenty of time to meet the bra-, er, students.” His shoulders gave a slight dip as he turned on his heels without waiting for a response.
Vials. It finally came to Harry what the sound was emanating from the bag; but what the hell was he delivering – to Hogsmeade – in vials?
Harry watched as the students rose to leave the Great Hall. Prefects organized the youngest and newest of the students for their first walk through the castle. The cacophony of the crowd exiting the hall was deafening and Harry didn’t remember it being so loud even though it was not that long ago since he had experienced it himself.
Five years.
He shook his head. It seemed forever since he had been a first year. He still regretted not returning for that final year when the war was over, but at the time he couldn’t see how it would ever have been the same. None of them would ever be the same, so why should the school have been?
“Professor Potter? Sir?” Harry’s reverie came to an end as he looked down at the small, skinny boy with haunting eyes clutching a book. Hogwarts: A History Harry smiled at the volume which had grown too thick with the additions of the recent past.
“That’s quite a book, Mr. Selby. Isn’t it?”
A bob of his head, the boy beamed through his pinched features. “Yes, sir. It’s the latest edition, crammed with all of the Hogwarts professors that helped with the war. You included, sir.”
“Truly? May I?” Harry held out his hand and the boy handed it to him, still beaming.
Harry hadn’t seen a copy of the book since his years at Hogwarts, and was curious what additions had been made. His eyes scanned the Table of Contents; and, he wasn’t surprised to find his own name listed below Albus Dumbledore’s. He had, in fact, received a draft copy of the new chapter a few years prior to accepting his teaching post. It had been simple, boring and held no pertinent information that history had not previously provided. So Harry had sent an acceptance letter back to the writers by owl and that had been the last he’d thought of it.
The next line read “Hogwarts’ Professors Fight Back” and listed below were all the professors of the time less one. Harry frowned. A quick scan of the chapter showed no mention of one Professor Severus Snape.
None.
Harry didn’t have time to ponder the ramifications before his thoughts were disturbed.
“Mr. Selby, being late to bed your first night at Hogwarts is not the best way to start your academic career.” The voice as smooth as silk washed over Harry and his grip tightened on the tome.
“Sorry, Professor Snape, I was-”
“Hero worshipping, I’m sure.” The boy’s head bowed. “However, as Professor,” a pause did not go unnoticed by Harry, “Potter is now a member of staff; you will have access to him during the school day.”
Harry could almost feel the boy’s heart racing like a trapped bird. He handed the book back to the quiet child. “Marcus, I look forward to us being ‘first years’ together this year.” Harry winked.
“Yes, sir.” The boy’s jubilant demeanor returned as he made his way towards the dungeon.
Both watched as the boy disappeared, before Severus Snape turned, robes billowing, and stalked off. Harry called out to the man, following tight on his heels. Harry almost collided with him when he stopped abruptly.
“God, Severus, why do you have to be that way?”
“What way is that Professor Potter?
Harry grimaced at the title. Although they hadn’t had a lot of contact as colleagues, Harry had assumed that they were beyond the formal form of address at least when alone.
“Why do you have to be so bloody mean?” Harry asked, coming to a stop in front of the taller man. “There was no problem in Marcus stopping to talk to me.”
Severus crossed his arms over his chest. “'Mean'? My only concern is that Marcus Selby receives the proper rest he requires before starting his first day of lessons at this school."
“But-”
“As you well know, Professor, from your own recent history with this institution, the first day is full of excitement and unending expectations. Therefore, the only place that boy should be at this hour is in bed.” With that the dark man pushed past Harry, missing the blush of embarrassment suffusing his usually pale cheeks.
The morning sky was blue and still and Harry’s broom was the only thing clearing his head after the first week of lessons. A few rings around the Quidditch Pitch had done him a world of good, however, as had the fly over the Forbidden Forest. He had just been musing the beginning of autumn colors to come when he spotted Mr. Filch returning from Hogsmeade along the same path he had taken the previous week.
Harry brought the broom down to greet the caretaker near the front door, but as he alit in front of the large entrance Filch’s path followed another route around the side of the castle. Curious, Harry made his way across the wide expanse of garden to follow Mr. Filch before calling out his name. Turning the corner, Harry found the garden empty.
“Impossible,” Harry muttered making his way along the side of the castle. There hadn’t been enough time for Filch to make it to the back of the castle unless he had run, but from the look of Filch, running was not an option. The only possibility was that there was a hidden entrance somewhere behind the trees and bushes lining the wall of the castle.
Harry wished for his old Marauder’s Map. He didn’t remember an entrance there, but he hadn’t looked at the map in years. He had packed it away in an old chest somewhere. The map had become useless after the war. The renovations to the structure and the magic attached to it made the old parchment nothing more than a cherished memento of his years as a student and full of ghostly memories of the men who had created it.
Harry pushed between two conifers and braced the palm of his hands on the stone wall. Nothing
“There has to be-”
“There has to be what, Mr. Potter?” The question startled Harry and he jumped guiltily from his partially-hidden place between the trees.
Harry frowned at the address as well as the disturbance before considering his good fortune.
Ignoring the jibe, he said, “Severus, do you know if there's an entrance on this side of the castle?”
The dark man didn’t reply, nor did he move as his eyes bore back at Harry. Harry knew Severus was an expert at keeping secrets, but he saw no reason for such measures so long after the war.
“Sev-?”
“No, Potter. There is no entrance along this side of the castle.” His eyes dropped to the shears he held grasped in his hand. “Now if you will excuse me, I have ingredients to collect.”
It was then that Harry noticed the old satchel hanging from Snape’s other hand and the way the long leather strap wrapped around his wrist. It was undoubtedly the same bag Filch had used the previous week, when it had been filled with vials.
His eyes still on the bag, Harry spoke. “That’s quite a large bag; you must be gathering a load of stuff?” Snape’s grunt was non-committal as he turned to leave. “I saw Filch with a bag just like that one. Last week. On his way to Hogsmeade.”
Harry watched the wizard’s straight spine stiffen. Gotcha!
Severus Snape was still a tall, imposing man, but it didn’t seem to register with Harry when Severus turned to face Harry again. “I’m sure the shop keepers of Hogsmeade will be glad to know their wares are being put to good use.” With that, the man turned and strode away, leaving Harry even more frustrated than before.
Harry watched black robes rippling against the current of air being forced past them as Severus Snape made his way to the exit of the Great Hall with long, purposeful strides. His movements were graceful and fluid as he moved around students and tables, making Harry wonder if the man was as graceful in bed as he appeared to be on his feet. The thought only brought a sad smile to his face at his frivolous thoughts, however. In the first month of the term the teaching had gone well, but his obsession with Severus was growing in leaps and bounds. He couldn’t decide if there was really something going on at Hogwarts or whether it was just his imagination in overdrive when it came to the mysterious man.
Harry licked the last of the treacle tart from his spoon as Severus reached the open doors.
“Professor Snape?” Harry barely heard the call through the dinnertime din, but he saw Severus stop and turn towards the call from the Slytherin tables.
Marcus Selby was making his way slowly through the press of students to reach his Head of House. Marcus was a wonderfully quizzical child with a sharp mind and quick reflexes. Harry had been quite impressed with him, when he was in lessons. Marcus seemed to be a rather sickly child, although with nothing serious, but his classmates were always informing Harry when Marcus had a cold or severe headaches; or worse yet, nose bleeds. He seemed especially susceptible to them, which explained, in Harry’s mind, the pasty complexion and dark circles under Marcus’ eyes. He made a note to ask Madam Pomfrey if she had given Marcus a Blood Replenisher later, but at the moment he was more concerned with the exchange between the student and his professor.
Severus stood with his arms crossed staring down at the young boy, as Marcus seemed intent on explaining something to him. Marcus began to pull a book from a stack he was carrying while Severus surveyed the students passing him and then the room at large. His eyes locked with Harry’s, his lips thinning for a moment before his attention returned to Marcus. With a sweep of his batwing arm, Severus Snape ushered the boy towards the exit.
It wasn’t the first time Harry had seen the two of them together. It seemed Marcus was one of the few students he had ever seen in Severus’ presence that wasn’t being chastised or worse berated.
“Harry?” Harry watched the two disappear from sight before turning his attention to Headmistress McGonagall.
“Yes, Headmistress?”
“Harry, I was wondering if you knew how to play cribbage.”
“Cribbage?”
“Yes, we have a weekly game in the staff room. We’ll be short this evening as Severus has a meeting with a student to provide some extra help in Potions.
Extra help.
Those words sent unpleasant shivers down Harry’s spine, making him cringe. The extra lessons cover had all been part of the strategy of beating Voldemort, and in the end Severus Snape had not been the monster Harry had perceived him to be, but Harry couldn’t help wondering if it was still a cover for something else.
“Harry?”
Harry brought himself back to the present enough to answer.
“I’m sorry, Minerva, I don’t know how to play cribbage.” His eyes darted back to the large doors of the Great Hall through which Severus and Marcus had left.
“It’s all right, Harry. I’m sure Severus will be joining us again after Marcus is caught up.”
“Marcus Selby? How behind is he in Potions? Even with his absences he’s done remarkably well in Defense. I thought he was keeping up in his other subjects as well.”
“He is, but Potions isn’t something you can study from your Common Room. The practical elements have to be done in the lab under Severus’ supervision. Severus will have him in tiptop shape in no time at all.” Minerva McGonagall rose from her seat. “Leave it to Severus, Harry. He won’t let Marcus get behind.”
But Harry couldn’t leave it.
All of his attempts to be pleasant to the man were met with clipped responses, or a disdainful eye and a cold shoulder. He had decided the only way to get Severus’ attention was to corner him, which led him to standing in the dungeon hallway with a bottle of Glenlivit in one hand and his other knocking on the old iron-oak door.
“Come.” Yes, please.
The door opened easily at Harry’s touch. The classroom was brightly lit by dungeon standards, as Harry approached the wide desk behind which the dark man sat watching him with the sharp look of predator on high alert.
“Po- Professor Potter.” Severus stuttered over what seemed to be the beginning of a sneer. “To what do we owe this pleasure?” Harry watched Snape rise from his seat, but the scratch of his chair wasn’t the only noise in the room, causing Harry to turn.
“Hello, Professor.” Marcus Selby, looking not-so-pale, smiled at him over a cauldron.
Harry couldn’t help smiling in return and moved to join the first year. “Are you still catching up, Marcus?” Harry frowned.
“Oh, no sir, I’m just help-”
“That will be all this evening, Mr. Selby.” The interruption was so smooth, Marcus didn’t even seem to notice, but Harry certainly did.
“Of course, Professor Snape. Thank you-”
“Put your things away and move the cauldron to the back of the room. Then you are free to go.”
Marcus went right to work clearing his place, ignoring his professors’ sudden departure. Harry followed in Severus’ wake until he circled behind the desk to face Harry again. Harry plunked down the bottle in the middle of an essay littered with red notations in tightly scrawled handwriting.
Severus remained silent as Marcus carried the cauldron to the back of the room. Eyeing the bottle, however, Severus raised a brow in question.
“Good night, Professors.” Both men returned the greeting before squaring off again over the desk.
“What do you want, Potter? I’m busy, as you would be too if you were actually teaching anything,” Snape jibed.
Harry swallowed his retort and pushed the bottle forward with his fingertips. “A truce.”
“Truce? We are not at war, Potter.”
“Well, we’re certainly not on the same side either,” Harry snapped back.
Severus sighed, bent at the waist and opened a drawer near the bottom of his desk. Rising, he plopped two short glasses next to the bottle. “One.” He directed and seated himself behind the desk leaving Harry to pour and find a seat.
The conversation was slow and stilted in the beginning, and Harry had begun to wonder how wise his brash decision was to show up at Snape’s door until at last they alit upon the subject of Quidditch, specifically house teams. Their first drink turned into two when Harry, feeling more relaxed and comfortable, turned the subject back to the boy who had just been with them.
Harry reached for the bottle to pour them both another. “How is Marcus doing in Potions? Is he really behind?” He tipped the bottle when long, thin fingers covered Severus’ glass.
“I think that will be quite enough for the evening, Professor.” The usually smooth lilt had gone thick and quiet.
“But-” Harry gaped.
“Thank you for your...” Severus eyed the half empty bottle, “hospitality, but I believe it is time we called it an evening.”
Whisky had never been Harry’s drink of choice; choosing it only after talking to Filius and learning of Severus’ penchant for the Muggle blend. So between the buzz of the drink and the brief camaraderie, Harry heard himself speaking. Or, is it demanding?
“What is the problem, Severus? What aren’t you telling me?” Harry asked, thumping the bottle back onto the desk. He felt like a petulant child, but at that moment he didn’t care. What little progress he had made towards the man before him seemed to have dissolved at the one mention of a child neither of them had known until a month ago.
“What I am telling you, Professor Potter-” Harry rolled his eyes “-is that Marcus Selby’s standing in my classroom is none of your concern and as a member of Slytherin House his academic career is under my supervision, not yours.” Snape snatched up the bottle and thrust it towards Harry. “Good night.”
Harry looked at the bottle in front of him and then back at the stern man; the warm, almost mirthful look of earlier was gone, replaced by a cold stare making Harry wonder what he had said which was so wrong as to change the man’s demeanor so quickly. His mind still whirling, Harry turned and fled.
Harry pulled his collar tighter around his throat; even the sunny day couldn’t prevent the autumn chill from whipping his hair and nipping his cheeks. He was trying not to look suspicious standing beside the old shop while he watched the cottage a few houses down from his vantage point across the road. The neighborhood was quiet except for the distant sounds of children playing in one of the gardens nearby.
He had followed Filch.
Followed him to Hogsmeade and then through Hogsmeade to a cottage on the outskirts of the village. He hadn’t been watching the house long enough to be conspicuous but neither could he take the chance that one of the locals would recognize him.
Just as he began to think Filch had a woman holed up inside and was there for more than a delivery, the door opened and the man himself stepped outside, called a greeting back inside and then closed the door behind him. Harry waited until the older man had made his way down the lane, his bag obviously lighter for his delivery, before he stepped into the road.
Harry stood at the gate to the garden and stared at the cottage. It was worn around the edges. A few of the roof tiles were jagged or broken, and the trim of one window, obviously missing a nail, hung at an angle and the red front door was faded almost to pink, but the garden was trimmed and the bushes clipped.
This is it.
He thought he had given all mystery up when he left the Auror office. Instead, his life had seemed to become more complicated. Firstly, there were the odd deliveries with Filch coming and going from the castle in ways Harry couldn’t fathom. He was obviously delivering vials of some sort, which led, in Harry’s mind, straight to Snape. However, he never saw Snape talking to Filch or giving him anything. The only person he saw with Snape on any regularity was Marcus Selby, and although odd, was completely explicable.
To top it off, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about the time he had spent with Severus over drinks. Their time had been almost companionable, but since its abrupt end, Severus had returned to his clipped responses and disdainful looks.
“Bollocks.” Harry pushed open the gate. He could still hear children playing, it seemed closer but he saw no evidence of anyone being home before he knocked. The house seemed quiet, but Filch had said goodbye to someone within the house so Harry knocked again, harder.
The door swung open, “I’m sorry, Professor, I couldn’t hear the door, for the children-” The short, round woman stared at Harry. “Harry Potter?” The woman sounded amazed, and although it was not like him to use his celebrity, he didn’t think twice as he nodded.
The woman stepped back and invited him inside the warm cottage. “I’m sorry, Mr. Potter. We don’t get many visitors, and I thought you were Professor Snape come to check on the children.”
Harry’s heart raced. Children? Snape? The woman stared at him as if he was some sort of oddity and he was sure he probably looked that way as his mind swirled with innumerable scenarios where Snape would be checking on children in the village.
“Uh, mm, Sn-, Professor Snape asked me to stop in since I was going to be in Hogsmeade this afternoon.”
The older woman beamed. “Wonderful, why don’t I make you a nice cup of tea to warm you up? The children are out in the garden. Right through there.” The woman pointed through the kitchen window at the end of the hall.
“What is the meaning of this?” The dark man scowled at him from across the large mahogany desk.
Harry stood fast against the sudden urge to flee. The Gringott’s banker’s draft held resolutely between his fingers was thrust in Severus’ direction.
The hour he had spent sipping tea with Mrs Grimble and hearing about the children had taught Harry more about the elusive man than anything he had learned before. The compelling need to be the man’s friend was slowly evolving into something more, but Harry wasn’t thinking about that at that moment.
“I want to help…with the children.” Only the muscle along Severus’ jaw moved, tensing over what Harry suspected were clenched teeth. “I followed Filch-”
Severus growled in obvious displeasure but Harry didn’t care.
“You had no right-“
“Why?” Harry jutted his chin forward. “Are you the only one who’s allowed to feel guilty about what happened then? Are you the only one allowed to lay awake at night worried about those people and families ripped apart by the war?” Harry watched the already-pale color drain from the older man’s face.
“We both know the damage done in the name of the Dark Lord, and those children were not exempt. Fenrir made sure of that. But they are alive and well and-”
“Enough, Potter. You will not assuage your hero’s burden here. Get out of my office.” Snape stared down the length of his nose directly into Harry’s eyes.
The cold, contemptuous look did little to dampen Harry’s resolve. “I don’t know how, or why, you started doing this, and I don’t care. All I know is those kids are damn lucky to have you.” Harry let the draft slip from his fingers to float effortlessly to the Potion Master’s desktop. He knew he had overstepped his bounds, and he was saddened knowing this was the last time they would probably ever speak to each other in private, but he had done what he thought was right.
“If you ever need my-”
“Get Out!” Snape appeared to have grown taller in those few seconds as he towered over the desk and Harry to point at the door.
Harry knew there was no reasoning with Severus, and he walked to the door, which blasted closed as soon as it was able.
It had been a long month of empty looks and absences. The only time Harry saw Severus was at meals. If he chanced to catch the man’s eye, it was as if he wasn’t even there; the man simply looked right through him, or he was absent from the meal altogether.
His last owl report from Gringott’s showed the draft was still outstanding; still payable to one Severus Snape.
He admitted he knew nothing about Severus’ finances, but Harry knew the man couldn’t go on supporting the house of damaged children indefinitely. He would just have to try again, to make Severus see reason, even if it did nothing for a future relationship, let alone their friendship.
Severus had been absent from the evening’s meal again. So with a basket of food from the kitchens, Harry made his way to the dungeon. At the bottom of the stairs he spotted Severus carrying a child through a passage way hidden behind a tapestry of fighting, twisting snakes.
Without thinking, Harry rushed forward, pushing the hanging aside, found nothing but a stone wall. “Fucking bollocks!” Harry dropped the tapestry and stood in the dark niche behind it staring at the wall.
His frustration exploded from his lips as he pounded the wall with his fist. “God damn it, Severus. I know you’re in there. Open the blasted door.”
Nothing.
“Snape, if you don’t open this bloody door, I’ll blow it from its hinges.”
Silence.
Harry grimaced but took his wand from his robe’s sleeve. Raising the tip, Harry took a deep breath.
The door slid sideways into the wall itself; a large crack through which Harry saw one obsidian eye glaring at him.
“This is not the time for this, Potter. Go Away!” The door started to slide back, but Harry dropped the basket and slid his hand into the thinning strip of light hoping the wall didn’t crush his hand.
The door stopped instantly. His hand was wedged snugly between door and wall, but it was open and he knew Severus could hear him. “Let me in, Severus.”
There was no response.
Harry knew that meant the man was either preoccupied or measuring his options or both, and Harry wasn’t above pushing his luck. “Please, Severus. Whatever it is, I can help…you.” Harry bit his lip as the seconds of indecision passed.
“It could be dangerous, Potter. I can’t promise-”
“For fuck’s sake, Severus. Open the door! You can’t do this alone anymore.”
The only sound was the sliding of the door.
Harry snatched up the basket of food and moved through the doorway before he could be stopped. Stepping forward, he realized he was in Severus’ private chambers. For a dungeon space it was quite warm, but then he noticed the blazing fire and the small body on the sofa beside it.
He placed the basket on a small table as he made his way across the room to the sofa. The child was asleep, he hoped..
“Marcus?” Harry turned to Severus as he stepped up beside him.
Severus nodded and pulled the blanket aside to feel the child’s head. “He’s been building a tolerance for the Wolfsbane faster than I can modify it. The nosebleeds-”
“-and the headaches,” Harry finished, finally understanding the picture.
Severus nodded. “They’ve always been a nuisance during the full moon, but since he’s started at Hogwarts he’s been getting more ill with each moon.”
“Are those the only symptoms?” Harry fretted. “I mean, he’s not turning, is he?”
Severus picked up the child’s hand. Although the fingers were unaltered, the boy’s fingernails had grown over the edges of his fingers.
“Have you modified the potion for all the children or just Marcus?”
“Just Marcus. He’s the only one showing any unusual signs.”
“Is he taking any other potions?”
“No.”
“Has he been eating regularly or anything differently?”
“I don’t know, Harry. I…don’t…know.”
Harry saw Severus’ shoulders droop. For the first time in his life, Harry saw the man insecure and worried.
“It’s all right, Severus. Marcus looks fine for the moment.” Harry pulled the blanket back over the child from where it had been dislodged. “Let’s have some tea, and talk about what you’ve changed. I’m no potions expert…” Harry tried for levity and got a surprising twisted grin in return. “But maybe I can help you look at it from a different angle?”
Harry awoke with a start. He looked at the grey stones of the ceiling above him trying to remember why he was laying on the unforgiving floor.
“UuuuhhOooohh.” The moan inadvertently slipped from his lips as he tried to roll to his side to rise from the floor, but wedged between the low table and the sofa there wasn’t much room to manoeuvre.
Finally with a push and pull, Harry pulled his legs under him and levered himself onto the empty sofa.
Empty.
Harry pounded the seat cushions as if the body that had occupied the spot last night had gone invisible and was still there. That’s when the quiet of the dungeon was broken by a deep voice and childish laughter coming from the next room.
Harry pulled himself up onto the soft cushions and relaxed trying to remember the events of the last night that left him asleep on Severus’ floor. It all came back in flashes.
They had spent the better part of the evening hashing out all manner of things that Marcus could have ingested or done that would alter the modified Wolfsbane. Severus wasn’t trying to ease the changing in these children; he was trying to rid them of the infection completely.
He showed Harry all the notes and lab results of the past five years. It looked like he had succeeded in Harry’s mind, but Marcus’ reaction since arriving at Hogwarts indicated a failure.
“What about his Potions class? Could he have ingested something there? From his hands?” Harry asked, sipping his third cup of tea.
Severus stared at him, or through him, Harry feared. Suddenly he burst from his seat, and Harry spilled his tea across the small table. Pulling his wand from his sleeve, he began to apologize to Severus as he removed the mess, but Severus had already crossed the room and disappeared through a door in the back of the room. “Severus?” Harry called.
Unwilling to leave Marcus alone in a strange place, Harry waited, staring at the door.
He paced, staring at the door.
He sat, staring at the door until it suddenly burst open again.
Severus’ eyes were alight again with excitement Harry had never seen before. A list of Potion ingredients in his hand, Severus checked Marcus’ forehead.
“I don’t know which one of these ingredients it could be so I will have to assume them all at this point. But most of them are placid enough, which is why I let him help me, but if they are mixed with the right ingredients…” Severus ran his empty hand through his already disheveled hair, and turned back to Harry. “I should have known.” Severus looked suddenly ill.
It was clear that Marcus would not be allowed back into the labs. The elimination process to determine exactly which ingredient to avoid was too dangerous for him. His Potions study would have to be theoretical in nature.
The sound of a door caught Harry’s attention and he rose to meet Marcus. “Good morning, Professor.”
“Good morning, Marcus. You look much better this morning.” Harry grinned down at the boy.
“Professor Snape gave me a potion,” Harry’s surprised look met Severus’ unreadable one over Marcus’ head. “And some chocolate.” Marcus turned to Severus, “Will it be all right if I go to breakfast? I’m starving.”
Severus’ face seemed to relax, “That will be fine, Mr. Selby, but just toast and pumpkin juice. Let’s see how you feel later today.”
Marcus smiled widely, and thanked both his professors before scurrying off to the Great Hall.
Harry turned back to Severus, his face unreadable again. “Well, I suppose I should be going.” He stepped towards the door. “All’s well…and all.” Harry shrugged.
“Potter.” Harry stopped en route to the door. “Harry.” The name was like a caress, but Harry doubted it was meant the way it sounded. He turned sensing Severus’ movement.
“I…thank you.” He held out his hand, something Harry had never seen the man offer to anyone. “For all your help.”
Harry hesitated only a second before taking the cool hand in his. “You’d have figured it out eventually,” Harry hedged. The cool fingers didn’t release him and he didn’t force the issue, enjoying the gentle touch across the back of his hand.
“I was wondering, ah…” The tall man swallowed with difficulty. “Seeing as I have half a bottle of Glenlivit, I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink?” Harry’s eyebrow rose at the prospect of drinking so early in the day, regardless of their good fortune. “Tonight. After dinner,” Severus added hastily.
“Under one condition.” Harry crossed his arms.
Severus looked taken aback. “Condition?”
“Yes, I want you to send that draft I wrote to Gringotts.”
Severus smiled, and Harry became wary.
“It’s not necessary. I assure you. There’s no need. Albus set up a trust fund long before his…death.”
“A trust fund? For you?” This wasn’t making any sense.
Severus snarled gently. “No, Potter. The orphans. The casualties of Voldemort’s terror. There were already signs of need before Albus died. Minerva and I are the trustees.”
Harry stood rooted. He’d never thought about anything else the Headmaster would have left behind.