Work Text:
the lion's den
A lioness will protect her cubs to the bitter end. Lily will do the same. She is not the only one. - the Rigel Black Chronicles.
Warning: very melodramatic and sappy.
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the lion's den
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Spinner's End looked just as she remembered it.
Rundown, brick houses truckled the road. A flickering streetlamp shed dim light over a stack of beer cans next to an overflowing trashcans. Wind channeled through the narrow street, and tore her hair loose from its braid.
She had walked this street a million times before. Boy and girl, hand-in-hand, back when the world seemed less blighted and more hopeful. On the grassy patch a few blocks down, they'd tumbled down the hill and scraped their knees on pebble stones. Despite all those playtime memories, Spinner's End had not been a happy place, and more often than not, they'd escaped to Lily's own house, where there weren't any screaming fathers and a dispondent, torpid mother.
Lily couldn't for the life of her imagine why Severus chose to live here.
She stepped up to the green door that she'd first laid eyes on when she was six years old and lifted a hand to knock. She waited with bated breath, having to stifle the urge to shift her weight from leg to leg, as if she were a nervous teenager all over again. The house stayed silent; no thunder of footsteps came from behind the door. The air seemed empty of noise, except for the wind that howled through the alley and the quiet kaw-calling of some crows above the tree tops.
She rapped again, harder this time. Where could he be? Severus didn't stay in his quarters at Hogwarts over the summer, she knew that much. And he wasn't the type for any social visits. At least, she didn't think he was. It had been years since they last talked.
She was just about to knock again, when the door slung open and revealed the face of her old friend. Severus stared at her. Lily stared back. A cascade of emotions washed over his face, but it was gone so quickly she wondered if she imagined it. Gone were the flowing robes that he so often favoured; instead, he wore simple, midnight-colored robes. All at once she felt fourteen again, coming to collect him for an afternoon of roaming around the neighbourhood.
"Mrs. Potter," he finally said, the words curt and not at all welcoming. Lily hid her grimace behind a polite smile. "What do you want?"
Well. This wasn't the best start. But she could not turn back now. “Severus,” she said, and her voice came out surprisingly calm and confident, as if she hadn't tossed and turned all night while pndering over this decision, while her husband slumbered soundly beside her. James had no idea what kind of risk loomed over them all. “Can I come in?”
A tilt of his head, just shy of a shake. “What do you want?” Severus repeated.
It was hard to remember that he'd been her best friend at one point. The man in front of her could have just as easily been a stranger. There was no warmth in the black of his eyes, but no hatred either. Just total indifference. Severus had always been good at pretending.
“Rigel Black,” she said and watched how his fingers tigthened slightly around the door. No muscle jumped in his face, and if she hadn't been watching for the signs, she wouldn't have noticed any difference. But the name Rigel Black did something to him. Of course, it did. They'd been close.
“I need to talk to you about him,” she urged, and then in a sudden wave of courage, she stepped forward. Severus' eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. Not many dared to be this bold with me; his students certainly weren't, lest they wished for an early death, and Lily knew even adults withered under his stare. Dumbledore, perhaps, and Riddle – and now, her.
Severus pushed the door open and whirled on his heel. She took that as an invitation and stepped into the carpeted hallway, closing the door softly behind her, before following him into the living room.
“Tea or coffee?”
Only Severus could be so brusk when serving quests, but it was kind of him to ask at all. “Tea,” she said, seating herself on a sofa that exhaled dust when she touched it. “With milk, if you have it.”
He only hummed. As he disappeared from the room again, Lily took the time to look around. The living room was unchanged from the last time she'd seen it. The same leather armchair was tucked into one corner, the same dark blue rug lined the floor. This house seemed suspended in time, forever unchanging.
The only thing that looked well taken care of were the mahogany bookcases lining the wall. She rose from the couch and padded over to them, keeping an ear out for any footsteps. Books on Potions, she noted, but Defense, too. History, Divination, Curses, Curse-breaking. Her oldest daughter would have a field day here.
“Here,” Severus' voice announced. She whirled around, a quickening in her chest. She had not heard him approach. He held out a porcelain teacup to her, its rim lined with gold, and she took a moment to appreciate its delicacy. It seemed so out of place in the hands of so severe a man.
“What did you come here?” he asked, as they seated themselves. The armchair he lowered himself into creaked aggravatingly. “Do you have information about my student?”
“Maybe. That depends.”
“On what?”
“How much you want to find him.” She held his gaze. “And what you intend to do when you've found him.”
Severus edged forward on his chair, his own cup of tea forgotten on the table. He interlaced long, slender fingers under his chin. “Where is he?”
Lily tilted her head. It sent a waterfall of red spilling over her shoulder. “My answer depends on-”
“To hell with that,” Severus hissed. His chest heaved up and down like he'd been running a mile. “Everyone is looking for my wayward student. Not only the Ministry, not only the Aurors. Albus, too, but more importantly, Riddle. He will not stop until the boy is found. And do not make the mistake of thinking that Riddle's ire will diminish with time, that it will lessen – if anything, it will only grow. So tell me where he is!”
Severus did not often lose his composure. He had, when a student, and Lily knew her husband and his friends had a great deal to do with that. But the man he had grown into was nothing but careful, nothing but controlled. This meant a great deal to him.
“What do you want with him?” Her words came out steady. She set the teacup down on the table with a small thud and flashed her eyes at him. He stiffened slightly.
“What will you do when you find him, Sev?” she asked slowly, narrowing her eyes. “Will you deliver him personally to Riddle? Will you parade him around while the whole of Wizarding Britain tears him apart, bit by bit? Will you stand idly by when they bring him to Azkaban?”
Severus stayed so still he seemed to not be breathing. The silence slunk around them like a predator, swelled like it was a tangible thing, Still, he did not speak. Something in her throat constricted, as the seconds ticked past.
“I think we're done here.” Lily rose to her feet in a fluent motion. Her eyes burned and she didn't know why. They hadn't been friends for a long time. It had been foolish to come here, to trust that there was one ounce of the friend she'd loved left in him -
“I would save him.” Severus' silky voice cut through her thoughts. “I would find a way.”
She stilled. Severus massaged his brow, looking older and wearier than she'd ever seen him. “I've been looking for him everywhere,” he confessed. “I went Scrying for him. I know he's in Britain, and not France, like those bumbling baffoons that call themselves Aurors seem to think.”
Lily ignored the indirect jab at her husband, though, with a careful man like Severus, she didn't think it was entirely by accident.
“But where in Britain? The boy has proven himself more than capable at impersonating someone. Polyjuice is easily procured, what with his Potion talent. And if the story is true, if Rigel truly pranced about in the Lower Alleys, he will be nigh unfindable. The folks down there are loyal to their own.”
Lily sat back down. She picked up her teacup with both hands. The warmth grounded her. “I know where he is,” she said. Severus' gaze cut to her, dark and intense.
“I also know who he is,” she continued, pretending not to notice how Severus drew forward, how his eyes did not flit from her face, not even for a second.
“Is he safe?”
It was not the question she'd been expecting. “Yes. For now,” she added, nodding at him. “If nobody finds him, that is.”
“How did you manage what nobody else could?” Severus seemed close to gaping. “I know for a fact that the Ministry is desperate. Albus has asked all his contacts to keep an eye out. And Riddle – Riddle has not spared one expense. He wants to get his hands on the boy. How did you-?”
“It is not that hard,” Lily said softly, “when the one everyone is looking for is your very own daughter.”
Severus went very still. Wide-eyed, he stared at her. “What.”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “Believe me, that was my reaction, too. How do you react when you find out that your eldest daughter has been traipsing around at Hogwarts, violating a dozen laws, under the name of her cousin?”
Lily heaved a sigh. “I didn't know at first. Harry and Archie came home and their stories were so aligned, so detailed. All of it added up. The requests for self-defence – because of course she would have needed that when living in the Lower Alleys. Her Potions job. And all the people in the Alleys collaborated the story. There was no reason to doubt any of it. Archie had just met an older boy, who wanted to go to Hogwarts. That was it.”
She sighed. “And I accepted it at first. We all did. Sirius was just glad that his son was fine, had always been fine and not scarred from all the near-death experiences we thought he'd had at Hogwarts. All of it added up, and yet- and yet there were these little details that stood out to me. The switching of the wands at Parkinson's Gala last year. How Harry gobbled up food last summer and left her lights on in the night. And Potions – there was only one thing that Harry always wanted, Sev, and that was learning Potions under you.” She had never seen her friend so taken aback. It would have been a comical thing to behold any other time. “The other thing that stood out to me was how close Rigel had been to Harry. Or Archie. And if there were two people who'd do anything for each other, it would be Harry and Archie."
Severus clenched his fists in his lap. “Who else knows?”
“Nobody. Except now you.” She aimed a tired smile at him. His eyebrows rose slightly, but she didn't know whether it was in response to her words or her expression. “I think Remus suspects. Or maybe he knows. He hasn't said anything, but the way he sometimes looks at her..."
“Can you trust the werewolf?” The end of Severus' sentence curled into a sneer.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I trust him with my life. And Harry's. They've always been close. He's my dear friend, Sev.”
Severus' mouth twisted, but he didn't argue the point any further. "What about Black and- and Potter?" He spat the names with venom.
Lily closed her eyes for one moment. "They can't know," she said, and it sounded like she was trying to convince herself of that fact. Maybe she was. Sirius was so happy to have his son back again, so happy he seemed to glow, though Lily knew some of it was faked; Archie and Harry had betrayed them all, and under Sirius' facade, the cracks ran deep.
"I need to know you'll be there for her, if this all goes south." Lily opened her eyes and fixed Severus with a stare. She leaned forward in her chair, and grasped him by the wrist. His eyebrows rose, mouth opening to say something, but Lily beat him to it. "If this becomes public, heads will roll. Riddle won't stand idly by. And Albus - I trust him, I really do, but the Light side would use Harry to further their political agenda."
"Albus could perhaps keep her out of Azkaban."
A snarl came to her lips, unbidden. "Perhaps - I can't work with perhaps and maybe. I can't lose my daughter, Sev. I will not. The only question is whether you'll help me."
They stared at each other. "If not for me, then for Harry. For Rigel," Lily whispered.
Severus grabbed her hand. "I'll help," he said. And Lily believed him.
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the lion's den
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Harry was losing her mind.
It had been a month since Rigel Black was revealed to be an imposter, and still her father had shown no sign of relenting. Her grounding was still very much in place, with the exception being the hour-long trip to the Apothacery each week. Leo was always waiting for her against the side of Tate's Apothacery, but despite all of that, she was frankly starting to go mad, being cooped up in the house for so long.
“I said no,” James Potter said, piercing his steak with his fork. “You have enough to occupy your time here.”
“Archie can leave the house,” Harry argued. “So why can't I?” She met her cousin's gaze from over the table and he gave her an encouraging nod. Archie had left for Diagon Alley just two days prior, to spend the day with Hermione. He had returned with a stack of notes about the Fade.
“That was in part an educational visit,” James said, like he wasn't parroting the exact words Remus had said to convince Sirius three days ago. “Archie needed to see Maywell, to pursue an internship.”
“Harry has an educational visit too,” her mother piped up. She seemed unfazed under the weight of five stares and serenely took a sip of her water. “Next Tuesday, with Severus Snape.”
Silence rang like a thunderclap. Relief uncurled in Harry's chest like a flower. "Thank you," she breathed. "Thank you, thank you -"
“Lily-,” her father started, as he drew himself up, butter knife poised.
“She cannot continue to be cooped up in this house, James,” Lily said. “And this visit has absolutely no risk. Harry will go to his house, brew, and come back before dinner.”
Her father choked on his dinner. Harry waved her hand to dislodge the piece of broccoli in his throat, when he started to slightly resemble an aubergine. “No magic at home,” he croaked at her, before he turned back to Lily. “To his house? Lily, surely you can see-”
“It's perfectly fine. I've discussed it all with Severus at length.”
“W-What? When? You haven't spoken to him in years!”
“I know.” Her mother shook her head slowly from side to side. “And what a mistake that was.”
Sirius spoke up. “He's in the Cow Party."
“Dumbledore trusts him.”
“He's a Dark Wizard," James snapped.
“Perhaps our not-too-tolerant feelings from our school years are clouding our judgement,” Remus piped up, ignoring the glares from Sirius and James with relative ease. “If you say it's safe, Lily, I believe you.”
“Thank you, Remus,” Lily said with a nod. “Harry needs her education. Severus is willing to provide it. I see no downsides to this.”
James spluttered, but her mother cut him off before he could open his mouth. “We'll discuss this more after dinner,” she decided, gazing around the table as if to dare anyone to disagree. Archie promptly stuffed his mouth full with broccoli and Harry quickly did the same. She had no desire to be caught up in this fight.
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the lion's den
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Eventually it was decided that Harry could go. James instructed her to wear her Emergency Portkey at all times. “You never know when you might need it. There are eyes and ears everywhere. Stay vigilant!”
Harry nodded obediently, although she quietly wondered where he thought the danger would come from. Did he think reporters were hidden in Snape's kitchen cabinets?
As she slipped on her white trainers – which were much less sturdy than her beloved boots – she eyed her parents through her lashes for any signs of lingering anger, but found none. Lily was leaning against her father's side, arm wrapped around his waist, while he rested his chin on her head, eyes lidded like a cat. Her mother caught her eye for a moment, and smiled.
When the clock ticked one o'clock, Harry padded to the Floo. “Spinner's End,” she announced, trying not to feel weird that she was going to her professor's personal home. Green flames washed over her and the Floo spat her out on the other side with so much force she crashed into the nearest object.
“Miss Potter?”
Harry patted the ground for her glasses. Her fingers found threads of carpet, until they finally found them near a tableleg. She pulled herself up, using the desk she'd fallen into as a crutch, and gazed up at the man who had taught her for the past four years. He was standing in the door opening, clad in brewing robes that were so utterly familiar to her. His eyes were piercing, but not angry or full of hate. Still, she could not help the tremor in her fingertips, and dug them into her thigh to hide it.
“Master Snape,” she said cheerfully, as if she hadn't been an accomplice in the ruse.
“This way,” Snape said after a long pause. He led her from the tiny Floo room into an outdated hallway and then down a flight of steps. They stepped into a large laboratory. Harry eyed the dried herbs on one side of the room with wide eyes, before her gaze was drawn towards the cauldrons in the back. Pewter, copper, even gold. Snape had them all. In the middle of the room stood two pewter ones, billowing steam. As she drew closer, she started to discern runes in the metal.
“What will we be brewing, sir?” she asked as respectfully as she could.
"Skele-gro," Snape said. She stared at him. "St. Mungos has requested a batch. I decided you could be of assistance."
"Of course, sir." She collected a pewter cauldron from the corner of the room and set to work. "Would you light the fire for me, sir?"
Snape rolled his eyes as he waved his wand. Harry happily ignored it, her hands full of ingredients.
They set to work. Snape took over one cauldron and Harry bent herself over the other, losing herself in the familiar motions of Potions-making.
She diced and chopped and diced some more. The potion changed from mud-brown to lilac to a dark purple that was almost black that emitted puffs of foul-smelling smoke. When she had bottled that, Snape set her on another potion, a Confusing Concoction. And so it went, on and on. She felt Snape's eyes on her more often than not, and when she looked up, he didn't try to hide it. His expression was indifferent, but his gaze was sharp and alert.
“You have an interesting dicing technique,” Snape commented, during the fourth potion. Harry forced herself not to react, though the tone made her want to stiffen. Severus Snape did not do small talk. What was he after?
“Is that so?” Harry eyed the roots. All were cut in perfect, even squares. She didn't think they were too big or small.
“You dice the roots all the way to the end,” Snape said, as he folded his arms over his chest, his dark gaze penetrating. “I knew of only one other person who did that.”
Her hatches rose. She had never put much thought in her dicing and chopping techniques. After so many years, it was just repetition, and hardly a challenge anymore. It was easy to lose herself in the familiar motions of the knife on the chopping board.
“You do not discard the gnarly bits. Most Potion makers do.”
No. No, she was not going down because of the way she diced. This could not be her one-way trip to Azkaban.
“Ah,” Harry said, biting her lip. “They're perfectly usable. Why would I throw them away?”
One corner of his lips turned slightly upwards, but the sight chilled her to the bone. “Yes,” he said, pushing himself off the wall, “Perfectly useable. I will not argue that point. And yet I've never seen anyone do that before. Except for my wayward student, Rigel Black.”
“Rigel and I have always been close,” Harry said quickly. Her fingers flexed around the knife and Snape's eyes zeroed in on them like a hawk spotting prey. “I am sure he must have caught some of my habits throughout the years.” She made her lip wobble slightly, summoned some moisture to her eyes. “Can we not talk about him, please? It makes me sad to think about him. I never did have the chance to say goodbye. I only hope he is safe, wherever he is.”
Snape remained silent, just watching her. She wondered if he was being unnerving on purpose. After a long moment of silence, she mentally shrugged and went back to her potion. That, at least, was simple.
“You are still projecting the fake aura.”
Harry's gaze flew up to meet his. He did not wait for a reply, which was just as well, because Harry had no idea what to say. He was fishing for something, testing the waters. Was it a mistake to have come here?
“I wonder what I would see if you were to remove it.”
“Well, I'm not,” Harry said firmly.
“Why were you using it again?” Snape stepped close, trailing his slender fingertips over the countertops.
“Power attracts attention,” Harry murmured, feeling oddly uneasy under her mentor's eyes.
Snape hummed. "How interesting that you are so powerful you want to hide it, for fear it will bring attention to you. How interesting when my wayward pupil had similar notions about his magic."
"It was necessary. For the ruse."
"Two Potioneers, with extraordinary talent," Snape said slowly, as he stepped closer. The shadows curtained his face into sharpness. Harry's breath hitched in her throat. "Two people, possessing an enormous amount of magic. The same dicing technique, a close relationship to the real Acturus Black. Do I need to go on, Rigel, or are you ready to admit it yet?"
She stared. Her throat constricted and she sucked in air, but it did not seem to matter, for her lungs ached like they'd never done before. This couldn't be the end. Snape's face seemed to be blurring in front of her eyes, and she noticed the door behind him. At once, she moved, but Snape grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. She tore herself loose from him, stumbled back a few steps and snatched the knife she'd been using to chop her Asphodel roots from the counter.
As they stared at each other, Harry swallowed thickly. Snape had no proof, and yet she'd reacted as if he did. She had all but confirmed it in all her panicked haste to flee out the door.
"What do you think I'm going to do to you?" Professor Snape's voice held an undertone of sadness.
"I am not going to Azkaban for this," Harry said. Her voice came out far calmer than she'd expected. The hand holding the knife was steady, but she felt like she could sway on the spot. "I know you probably hate me, and I'm sorry for lying, but I won't - I won't have my soul sucked out of me."
Snape moved closer. The tip of her knife brushed his chest and Harry forgot to breathe. He lay a gentle hand on her wrist and pushed her arm down, until the knife was pointed at the floor. Detangling her fingers from the handle, he said, "Why would I hate you?"
"Because I lied," Harry said, and her voice trembled. To her utmost horror, a tear made a way down her cheek. "Because I betrayed everyone. Because I hurt Draco. And I'm sorry, but I don't regret it."
"I don't hate you."
The words did all kinds of things to her; a nervous tingle in her stomach, a quickening in her chest. She inhaled deeply, pushed all her panic down, down, down, until she found she could breathe normally again. "Careful now, Harriett", Dom whispered.
"You have no proof," she said, and her voice came out steady and even. She smiled up at Snape, and the expression was polite, but bland. "I think it's time for me to leave. Thank you for letting me assist you, sir."
She went to step around him, but Snape held up a hand. "Rigel. Miss Potter." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, she found a warmth in them that took her breath away. "I'm not the only one who knows," he said, and continued quickly, when she went still as a statue, "Your mother knows too. It was she who came to me. And the werew- Lupin. There's a big chance he knows too."
He stepped closer and she did not try to move out the way, even as he clasped her shoulders with his hands. "I am not trying to scare you. I am trying to demonstrate, however poorly, that there are people who will and can help you."
She blinked up at him, for Professor Snape had always been a rather undemonstrative man, and he stepped back at once, shaking his head as if to clear himself of the sentimentality. "I don't think it's time for you to leave, Miss Potter. I think," he gestured to the cauldron, still steaming, "it is time we move on towards something new and challenging."
"And what is that?"
"A month ago you told me you'd like to learn Battle Potions. Don't tell me you've forgotten."
This time Harry couldn't keep the grin off her face. "Not at all, sir," she said.
"Then let's get to work, Miss Potter."
"Sure thing, sir. Oh, and sir," she said, "you can call me Harry." It earned her a quiet, amused huff and she beamed at him, for once unrestrained and happy.
When Harry stumbled out of the Floo hours later, tired but content, the sun had already set. Her mind raced with everything she learned the afternoon, but the thing that really kept repeating in her head was this: Snape knew.
She would have to tell Archie, she mused, as she dusted herself off by the fireplace. Snape knew and he still supported her. He didn't hate her. And wasn't that a surprise?
"Harry?"
Her mother's voice made her snap her head up. Lily Potter stood in the doorframe, one hand on the door handle, clad in grey sweatpants and a shirt Harry recognized as her father's, her hair damp from the shower and pulled back in a simple ponytail. "Your mother knows too." Snape's voice came to her hen. "And the werew- Lupin. There's a big chance he knows too."
She stilled and realized she had no idea how to approach this. Would they both ignore it and pretend they didn't know? Would they speak about it, and then move past it, like she'd done with Snape? Or would her mother be angry, be furious, and never forgive her? The latter seemed the most likely, Harry realized with silent horror.
"Harry?" Lily repeated. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, Mum", Harry wanted to say, "Everything's just dandy. I have no friends and you and Uncle Remus probably hate me, and the only people I have in my corner are my former Potions Professor, who will probably take back his forgiveness once he remembers who my father is, and Archie, my criminal, lying accomplice."
"We need to find you something to help de-stress", Dom commented, "Yoga or meditation. Or building pyramids. Maybe word domination."
Harry ignored the last part. "Meditation wouldn't be relaxing," she told him, "You're in my head."
"Harry!" Lily sounded truly alarmed now. She released the door handle and stepped into the room, searching her face with an intense gaze. It probably wasn't a good idea to have conversations with the voice in her head in public, Harry mused.
"Everything's fine," she said quickly, but her mother's expression remained worried.
"You know you can tell me anything, right?" she said softly, keeping her gaze on Harry's face. "You can always come to me."
"Now or never, kid", Dom said.
"Professor Snape," Harry started. "He said - he said you know."
She waited a beat, for her mother to say "Know what?" or "You liar! You're no child of mine!" but Lily only nodded.
"Can I give you a hug, Harry?" she asked, her tone careful as if Harry was a scared animal about to bolt. Harry nodded and her mother folded her arms around her. She breathed in her mother's scent - detergent and citrus and flowers.
"Don't you worry," her mother murmured into her hair. "I won't let anything happen to you."
The words would have made her shake her head at any other time. But there, in the warmth of her mother's arms, her heartbeat under Harry's ear, she could almost believe it.
"Hey!" Archie's voice ran out. Lily turned, pulling Harry with her, not releasing her. Archie stared, his eyes accusing and betrayed. "Nobody invited me for a hug!"
Harry laughed, the sound high and genuine. For once, all was right in the world.