Chapter Text
“Dad’s gonna kill me,” Ron declared, as the two boys watched the battered Ford Anglia disappear into the trees.
“Yeah? Not if mine kills us both first,” Harry pointed out, and he was sure he saw the other boy pale slightly. “Come on.”
“Maybe he won’t find out,” Ron said, as the two of them jogged up the stone steps and into the castle.
“This is Snape we’re talking about,” Harry reminded him, as they put down their things. “See you, Hedwig!”
“Well, if he does find out, maybe you should just tell him about all the weird things that’ve been going on?” his friend suggested.
“Oh, yeah. ‘Sorry that Ron and I stole a car and flew it to school, but you won’t believe the week I’ve had!’” Harry cried, sarcastically. “He’d never let me stay at yours over summer break again!”
“Oh come on, it’s not been that bad!” Ron grimaced.
And it hadn’t been – at least, to start with.
At the beginning of the summer break, Harry had found himself at Spinner’s End which was, without a doubt, preferrable to Little Whinging. He was grounded for the first week of course – on account of his adventures through the trap door which – despite house points being awarded by Dumbledore – his new guardian did not approve of. (Harry had suggested Syltherin’s loss of the house cup was part of the problem, for which an additional day of house arrest was added).
But he hadn’t minded so much. The week had given him time to help Snape tidy up around the house and he was even permitted to decorate his new bedroom.
The room, much like the rest of the house, was a little on the small side. Despite this, and Hogwarts aside, it fast became the closest thing to ‘home’ the boy had ever felt.
He and Snape had fallen into a routine – a quiet kind of companionship with the two of them still learning about each other. For Harry, it was the thing he had wanted most last term – a safe haven, a promise that he would not have to return to the Dursleys, perhaps a family of his own.
Perhaps.
Dumbledore had helped them to recreate the blood wards. But…
Harry shook it off, forcing his mind to go to more recent events – the final week of the break, which his guardian had permitted him to spend at The Burrow. That was where things had gotten colourful.
“So a house elf shows up in your bedroom and tells me not to come back here. We can’t get through to platform 9¾, we almost get killed by a tree,” he recounted. “Not to mention that run in with Malfoy and his stupid father at Flourish and Blotts! It’s bad. Cleary somebody doesn’t want me here this year.”
Ron shrugged. “Maybe you should tell him.”
Before Harry could disagree, the two of them were stopped in their tracks by another figure, who had appeared at the top of the stairwell.
“Well, take a good look lads. This night might well be the last you spend in this castle,” Filch told them, a nasty smirk on his face. “Oh dear, we are in trouble. Follow me.”
“Something tells me he already knows,” Harry muttered, as the two of them made after the caretaker.
Sure enough, Filch led them to the dungeons where, several minutes later, the two Gryffindors found themselves standing in front of the Slytherin Head of House.
“You were seen by no less than seven muggles,” Snape told them, brandishing a newspaper. “Do you have any idea how serious this is? You have risked the exposure of our world! Not to mention the damage you have inflicted on a whomping willow that’s been on these grounds since before you were born.”
Ron gulped. “Honestly Professor Snape, I think it did more damage to us.”
“Silence!” Snape warned him, moving around the desk to stand in front of them.
Ron backed off slightly, all bravery forgotten.
“I assure you that were you in Slytherin house–” the potions master began.
“–But they are not,” a voice from the door.
“Professor Dumbeldore. Professor McGongall,” Harry realised, seeing the two teachers in the doorway.
“Headmaster, these boys have flouted the restriction for the decree of underage wizardry. As such–”
“–I’m well aware of our bylaws Severus, having written quite a few of them myself,” Dumbledore said, pleasantly. “However, as Head of Gryffindor House, it is for Professor McGonagall to determine the appropriate action.”
“We’ll go and get our stuff then,” Ron sighed.
“What are you talking about Mr Weasley?” McGonagall asked.
“You’re going to expel us, aren’t you?”
Harry’s eyes widened as he wondered if his friend was right, glancing at Snape.
“Not today, Mr Weasley. But I must impress on both of you the seriousness of what you have done. I will be writing to your family tonight, and you will both receive detention,” she said.
A pause, and Harry snuck another look at his guardian, knowing a detention was the least of his worries.
“And now, I suggest that we all return to the feast. There is a delicious-looking custard tart that I am most anxious to sample,” Dumbledore announced, and Professor McGonagall nodded her head, ushering the two boys towards the doorway.
“Not so fast, Potter,” Snape said, stopping Harry in his tracks. “You will see me in my quarters immediately after the celebrations have ended.”
Flushing, Harry gave a small nod, before turning to follow Ron.
When the room had fallen silent once more, Severus Snape returned to his chair, exhaling and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“It would seem our young Harry continues to keep you on your toes, my boy,” Dumbledore observed, taking a small tin from inside his robes and offering it to the potions master. “Lemon drop?”
“What are you still doing here, old man? I would so hate for you to miss out on that tart,” Severus drawled, ignoring the offer.
“Dessert will keep, Severus. Am I to assume it has been a challenging summer break?” the older wizard asked.
“You would need to ask that question of the Weasleys. The boy was under control whilst in my care,” he said.
Dumbledore gave him a small smile – the irritating kind that would usually have sent Severus Snape off the deep end. Right now however, he had no energy for it.
“You and I both know that’s not what I’m referring to, Severus. The blood wards–”
“–Are precarious at best,” the potions master finished, resting his hands flat on the desk and looking the headmaster in the eye for the first time. “It is one thing my keeping the child out of trouble, but if those wards do not strengthen…”
“All in good time, Severus. I can assure you.”
“You assured me that the wards could be replicated, should Harry see me as family,” the potions master pointed out.
Dumbledore inclined his head. “And replicated, they were.”
“At less than half their original strength.”
“Come now, Severus. Surely even you understand that familial bonds do not form overnight. The stronger your relationship with young Harry becomes, the more protection the wards will offer,” the older wizard assured him.
“And if not?” Severus enquired.
“There is no reason to believe the protection offered by the wards cannot be enhanced,” Dumbledore pointed out.
“I am not referring to the wards.”
“Ah. Well that, I think, may be rather outside of my remit,” Dumbledore admitted, peering at Severus from over his half-moon spectacles. “Perhaps some advice from Molly Weasley?”
“This being the same Molly Weasley who, earlier today, allowed two 12 year old boys to escape her care and fly a car half way across Britain? Forgive me if I don’t seek her out for parenting advice,” Severus said, flatly.
Dumbledore chuckled. “I fear she has a much larger brood on her hands, Severus. In light of which, how difficult can one small Gryffindor be?”
Snape examined his hands, still flat on the desk in front of him. “I… still find myself questioning my ability to be a father to the boy. “
Dumbledore simply smiled to himself, moving back towards the door and examining some of the potion vials on the nearest shelf.
Incensed by his apparent lack of concern, Severus fixed the headmaster with a stare.
“Curious, isn’t it?” Dumbledore pondered.
“What is that?” he snapped, rapidly losing patience.
“That a man as capable and accomplished as yourself should doubt his ability when it comes to such matters. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I will go in search of that custard tart, my boy,” the headmaster said, turning towards the door.
Snape stood up. “Headmaster.”
Dumbledore stopped, his back to him, and a pause followed.
“If I cannot strengthen the blood wards…” Severus began.
The headmaster turned back to face him once more.
“In that eventuality, I’m sure that you will agree that it would be in Harry’s best interests to return to his relative’s home next summer,” he said.
Severus Snape did not miss that annoying twinkle in his eye.
And as the older wizard set off in the direction of the great hall, the potions master returned to his chair, his greatest fear confirmed.
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