Chapter Text
“Mr. Potter, may I ask what you are doing here?”
Harry froze. He looked up into the sallow face and hooked nose of the one man he least wanted to see. Having just escaped the Dursleys and left a literal human balloon floating over Surrey, Harry had planned on disappearing. Seeing Professor Snape the moment he stepped onto the Knight Bus felt like a cruel joke from fate.
“Oi! Neville!” Stan Shunpike called out from his post by the door. “Who’s dat you’re talkin’ to? Why’d ‘e call you ‘Mr. Potter’?”
“Neville?” Snape’s black eyes bored into Harry’s, cold and calculating. “This is Mr. Potter, who appears to have found a new and inventive way to muddle about where he isn't wanted.”
“Ern! Ern! Guess ‘oo Neville is, Ern! ‘E’s ‘Arry Potter! I can see ‘is scar!” Stan yelled excitedly.
“A fact he has never had any trouble broadcasting,” Snape sneered. He didn't look at Stan; his gaze remained fixed on Harry, pinning him to his seat. “Come, Mr. Potter. I believe your tour of the wizarding world’s public transport is at an end. I appreciate the swiftness of the journey, Stan, Ernie.”
Snape stepped off the bus, his black robes billowing like the wings of a giant bat. When Harry didn’t move, Snape turned his head slightly, a dangerous edge to his voice. “I said come, Mr. Potter. Unless you find your current company more intellectually stimulating than the alternative?”
Harry scrambled to his feet, dragging his heavy trunk across the floorboards.
“Bye, Neville!” Stan called at his retreating figure behind the doors, which shut with a hiss.
Harry caught up to Snape, a difficult task with Snape’s long strides. “Mr. Potter, that was extremely foolish. You know of Professor Dumbledore’s wishes for you to remain with your relatives. What were you thinking?”
“Professor, I was planning on returning next year! It’s not my fault they hate me!”
Snape paused a block before reaching Number 4 Private Drive. “You will tell me what happened right now or face dire consequences when those ministry officers realize it is you who is here with me,” he said, causing Harry to notice the many wizards, including a stout man in a lime green bowler cap on the front lawn of the Dursleys’ house, all looking up at the night sky.
“Well, sir, my, er, aunt was insulting my parents-”
“Considering James Potter was your father, that is understandable.”
Harry glared subtly before continuing. “Well, I tried to not get upset, but then she kind of, er-”
“Speak clearly, Mr. Potter.”
“She blew up. That’s her, floating above the house.”
Snape glanced at the dark night sky and, sure enough, a balloon-shaped woman was floating at least 50 feet above. Snape looked over quizzically at Harry before noticing the man with the bowler cap who was barreling towards them. “Ah, Minister Fudge, what is the trouble?”
“Mr. Potter! My dear boy!” Fudge panted, his face purple. “You’ve got us in a right state! And Severus—excellent work. Thank you for securing him. We’ll take him from here.”
“With all due respect, Minister,” Snape interrupted, his voice smooth and cold. “The boy’s relatives are currently… indisposed. Given his blatant disregard for the Statute of Secrecy, it would be far more prudent for him to remain under the supervision of a Hogwarts professor until term begins. I shall take him to my own residence.”
Harry’s jaw practically dropped. Snape was volunteering to take him?
Fudge looked relieved. “Brilliant thinking, Severus. Quite right. I’ll leave the lecture to you, then. I assume you’ll fill him in on the… recent developments?”
“Indeed,” Snape said darkly. He gestured for Harry to move.
As they walked away from the Dursleys and into the darkening streets, Harry couldn't help himself. “Professor? What developments? What’s going on?”
“Mr. Potter, your capacity for silence is as limited as your talent for Potions,” Snape snapped. “If not for my intervention, you would likely be facing an expulsion hearing. A ‘thank you’ would be the appropriate response.”
Harry paused before looking up at Snape’s expecting glare before forcing out a “Thank you, professor.”
Snape continued walking, leading Harry through many back alleys before stopping at a small house on Spinner’s End, at the end of the long road filled with run-down houses with boarded windows.
“Inside,” Snape commanded. He waited for Harry to enter before closing the door. They appeared to be in a living room, one with dark wood flooring that seemed to continue throughout the house and evergreen walls. A mahogany table stood in the middle of the room with a couch and matching armchairs surrounding it. ‘Like Snape would be the person to entertain guests,’ Harry thought. ‘Then again, what am I doing here?’
“You will respect the sanctity of this house. My laboratory is strictly off-limits. You will complete your summer assignments by the week’s end. Breakfast at eight, lunch at one, dinner at seven. You are not a guest, Potter; you will clean up after yourself and contribute to the upkeep of this home. Am I understood?” Snape said, eyeing Harry, who was standing awkwardly near the door.
“Yes, sir,” Harry said, unwilling to break the fragile truce they seemed to have come to.
“Good. Your room is the first door to the left. My private quarters are at the end of the hall. The kitchen is the next room over, and the dining room is behind that. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Harry said again.
“I will be in my potions laboratory. Do not disturb me unless the house is on fire or you are actively dying.”
With that, Snape left to the side door from the kitchen, leaving Harry all alone. He decided to check out his new “private quarters,” as Snape had called them, reassuring himself that it wouldn’t be as bad as the cupboard, even though he was in Snape’s house. He backtracked to the front door before walking over to the first door to the left and opening it, bracing himself for the worst, knowing how much Snape hated him. He expected a dungeon; instead, he found a clean, light grey bedroom with emerald bedding and a heavy mahogany desk.
It was a far cry from the cupboard under the stairs. As Harry collapsed onto the bed, the exhaustion of the night finally hit him. Despite the fact that he was sleeping under the roof of a man who hated him, Harry fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.