Chapter Text
It was a Sunday morning, a holiday, of course, and Andromeda mused bitterly. These were the days when she woke up in bed. Despite a weariness seated deep in her bones, the figure beside her was at least welcome. Unlike the days when she woke up in the guestroom, eyes heavy, limbs aching, and a strange stickiness between her thighs, accompanied by the ghost of someone’s long-gone presence, someone who remained her biggest threat and the least welcome figure,.
“Morning, Harry,” Andromeda whispered.
“Morning, Andy!” Harry yawned. “It’s a Sunday. How hard would it be to convince Aunt Petunia to give us a day off?”
“Tough luck.” Andromeda whispered, just in time for Aunt Petunia to bang on their cupboard door, “Get up, you two!”
“Tough luck, indeed.” Harry echoed morosely
“Even then, it wouldn’t be wise to do so since the Zoo Incident,” Andromeda muttered while Harry gulped.
Another set of harsh knocks came on their door as Harry hastened to put on his specs while Andromeda quickly folded their ‘blanket’- a threadbare bed cover.
Harry stooped out, immediately greeted with a punch in his stomach from Dudley, while Andromeda muttered harshly. A punch from someone as strong as Dudley was no easy thing, especially if it was Harry who had to suffer.
It was always Andromeda who tended to Harry’s wounds, particularly after harsh beatings from Uncle Vernon-
(“I- I’m s-sorry, c-can’t help y-you tomorrow Andy- Ah! S-so sorry-”
“Hush Harry, it isn’t your fault, it’s okay, it’ll be okay.”
“Hurts Andy, hurts help, stop it please-”
“I’m sorry, Harry. I need to dress it, but the pain will stop soon enough. Just close your eyes, Harry, think of a lake, think of the stags as if they are all around, playing in the water, think of running among them, think…”)
Or some vicious games of ‘Harry Hunting’-
(“I’ll kill Dudley one day, I’m telling you.”
“Ow, Andy, it hurts-”
“Sorry, I’m trying to be gentle, it’s just-”
“I know.”)
“Harry!”
“I’m fine, don’t worry, I’ll manage, I’ve had worse.”
It was meant to be reassuring, but when Harry said it, it simply sounded sad. Andromeda wasn't very mature or adult, but she knew for sure that no child of their age should have to suffer from what Harry had to go through.
On walking out to the open living room, they were quickly assigned the tasks. Andromeda was told to make tea while Harry was instructed to bring the cookies to the family sitting by the fireplace.
Uncle Vernon had this peevish sort of smile on his face that either sent shivers down Andromeda’s spine or infuriated her because it was a warning that his ire was soon going to be fixated on Harry, who was no doubt innocent of any oddity he thought he was responsible for. Consequently, Andromeda had learnt to keep quiet and not raise any objection to that not if she wanted to greet Aunt Petunia’s infamous frying pan to the back of her head or one of Uncle Vernon’s clients (bad thought, bad thought, stop thinking about that, stop, don’t think, not him, not him, anyone, but not him, stop-).
“A Sunday, finally,” Uncle Vernon sighed happily, making Andromeda’s toes curl from the disgust or rather, the familiarity of that grin that Andromeda had seen so many times when she had literally been on the bed of the guestroom with his clients and sometimes him-
(STOP-)
“Do you know what’s good about Sundays, Dudley?” Dudley continued gobbling down his chocolate cookie, oblivious to Uncle Vernon’s question.
Harry beat him to an answer, “Sundays mean no mail.”
Uncle Vernon grinned toothily and Andromeda resisted the urge to vomit, “Right you are Harry.”
He took a bite of his cookie, and declared cheerfully, “No mail! Not a single mail since the morning!”
Harry looked forlornly outside the window, pulling the curtains aside, and when he returned to where Andromeda was making tea, he gave a toothy smile of his own, which, unlike Uncle Vernon’s, she wished she could cherish and see forever on her twin’s face.
“What is it?” she asked, keeping her voice limited to a mere whisper.
“There are so many owls outside, I bet we’re gonna have a huge influx of mail any moment now.”
As if on cue, rumbling sounds came from the chimney and it felt as if the house was shaking on its very foundations.
Andromeda watched spellbound as hundreds and thousands of letters flooded in from the chimney. She was so surprised that she couldn’t even take delight in Dudley’s fear and Aunt Petunia’s shriek. Whereas Harry was hopping on the coffee table trying to catch a lette. Once he did, he ran to their cupboard. Uncle Vernon was hot on his heels, and before Harry could enter the cupboard, he snatched the letter, and exclaimed loudly over the deafening sound of the letters still pouring down, “WE’RE LEAVING!”
Severus Snape had a truly wonderful morning when he awoke to this day. It was too good to be true or rather too good to be true for a day when time was passing dangerously fast heralding the arrival of the Potter Twins. Yet, he revelled in the remnants of the good days. Precisely, this was the reason why he should’ve known that it was going to descend into chaos and madness and all-in-all hysteria when Headmaster Albus Dumbledore called him to his office.
“Good Morning, Headmaster.” he greeted cordially, despite his insides twisting in anxiety. He trusted Dumbledore, but even the deep-seated Death Eater inside him agreed that the man could manipulate with practised ease that could make even the Dark Lord sob.
“Ah, Severus, just the man I wanted to see. Good Morning, my, Good Morning,” he answered cheerfully, and Severus steeled himself the moment he glimpsed those omniscient electric blue eyes, twinkling, honestly, quite madly.
“Lemon Sherbet?” the Headmaster asked the Potions Master who had to stop himself from sighing.
“No, thank you, Headmaster.”
When the old (possibly senile) wizard made no attempt to proceed further in the hanging conversation, Severus tried to initiate something, “Was there something you particularly wished to discuss, Headmaster?”
“Indeed, my dear boy, indeed.” he paused, taking a look at Severus, who felt like a potion ingredient on a table worth inspecting (oh, how the tables have turned), “I’m sure you’ve heard about the Potters’ impending arrival to Hogwarts this September, right?”
This was going to go downhill very fast.
“Yes,” he answered curtly, pushing his frustration and bitterness behind his Occlumency Shields which he knew no one save himself could access.
“Indeed,” he had this really weird idea that the wizard was humouring him, “About that Severus, the Potters have not given their consent letters yet and I want you-”
Precisely this was where Severus blew up.
“If the brat finds it necessary to act like a spoiled, pampered prince, undoubtedly like his father, I find it extremely unnecessary to coax the boy into becoming my headache for the very least eight months of a year!”
He took a deep breath, half regretting his words already and steeling himself for an incoming inevitable chastisement. He was sorely surprised when none came his way, instead, the Headmaster delivered an even lower blow,
“You know Severus, there is a girl too, probably a little version of Lily-”
“I know.” he cut the man off harshly.
“Are you sure you wish to miss out on two prodigies of Potions just like Lily was?”
He sneered, “Or maybe I wish to save myself the high blood pressure that comes from being a target of Potter Senior’s spawns?”
“Perhaps, but is it really solid enough grounds to make such grave judgements?”
Maybe not, but his ire was justified (somewhere deep down, a voice that sounded like his Mum, or rather, Lily, kept on saying that no, his ire was not justified, to be shifted on two defenceless, blameless, innocent children).
“What have I to do?”
“I want you to deliver these letters to those two. Here-” he handed two sets of letters, each having two letters. “One contains the recent address whereas the other one is a copy of the original sent to them, I would also like you to investigate the case of the original address. It is concerning as to the way it is addressed.”
Severus frowned.
After a pause, he asked, “Are you sure that I am the best person for this, Headmaster? Surely, Minerva or Hagrid would have agreed to this bidding of yours in a heartbeat.”
Dumbledore smiled and answered serenely, “Hagrid is tasked with another issue I had told him to complete in Gringotts and as for Minerva, she is busy with other Muggle-born students.”
Severus prepared to walk out and then decided to warn the Headmaster, picturing two dunderheads throwing massive royal-sized tantrums, “I must warn you, Headmaster, that if they dare earn my wrath, I will not hesitate to verbally and brutally lash out at them.”
Dumbledore merely chuckled and agreed, “Of that, I have no doubt, good luck, my boy!”
Severus apparated to the abomination that was the Hut on the Rock and cursed for some umpteenth that evening. Just why, oh why, did those muggles have the need to run away from magic? Did they not want to rid themselves of two Potter-named headaches? Were they so wrapped around their little fingers?
He knocked sharply on the door, but when it received no reason, he sneered before whipping out his wand and casting a quick Alohomora on the offending door.
He should’ve known that he was in for a horrifying surprise and that was not even counting the fact that he had a mini panic attack at seeing the hallucination of Lily who was, in fact, Andromeda Potter. However, the most surprising thing was that it was Harry Potter who had opened the door, wearing threadbare rags and had greeted him with a soft, hopeful voice as if speaking to a Messiah, “Good Evening, Sir.”