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The Unexpected Side Effect of Draught No. 9	By : lovetoseverus Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 25605 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Chapter 14: Pivot

Evidence of life after the war was starting to make itself known more and more each day – it had been surreptitiously appearing at first, but was now gaining momentum with each passing month. Much to the delight of nearby residents, the newest installment was a charming little restaurant in Hogsmeade called The Grecian. Although the proprietor, Mrs. Whitby, was of English heritage, she had a love for and fascination of all things Greek. Now that her children were all grown, she had decided it was high time to do her part in revitalizing the town she called home – a feat she apparently felt was best accomplished by copious amounts of delicious food, and a warm, welcoming establishment.

“A little touch of Greece in Scotland!” she had quipped in The Prophet.

The trend was an encouraging thing to see, and Harry hoped it finally meant the clouds were beginning to part to let some sunshine through. That maybe, just maybe, the war had actually meant something; that people were finding a way to be happy again, and resuming their lives now that the darkness had gone from their hearts.

For himself, Harry simply wished he could reclaim that sense of wonder and contentment he’d felt as an 11-year-old, when he had first looked upon the Wizarding world with wide eyes. Idealistic as it was, it should have been achievable, but he also knew that wars changed people; that the war had changed him. He was reminded of it every day, in fact, and carried the burden of that knowledge as though it were draped permanently across his shoulders.

Falling into step alongside Hermione, he walked with her in companionable silence on the path from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade. She had suggested The Grecian for lunch as a way to catch up before the new term started, and he had agreed, but requested they walk instead of Apparate. The fresh air did him good. However, he was so absorbed in his thoughts that he barely noticed when she stopped outside the small restaurant.

The exterior was just as subdued and unassuming as everything else on the high street, but when they entered, they were greeted by the delicate tinkling of a bell, the soft hum of conversation and the clanking of flatware. Even for a Tuesday afternoon, the place was absolutely brimming with patrons. As Harry peered into the sun-drenched space, he took in the fresh, colorful decor and the expansive ocean mural artwork that adorned nearly every available wall. There was something about tropical-looking places that always made him feel at peace – yet he didn’t know why that would be, as he’d never been to any.

Just then, a kindly-looking but stout little witch bustled into view, and nearly squeaked with delight when she laid eyes on her newest guests.

“Mr. Potter, I am so honored to have you! What a treat, what a treat!” she exclaimed, shaking his hand enthusiastically before turning to face Hermione. “And you must be Ms. Granger! Oh, happy day! Please, please, follow me, only the best table in the house will do!” As she hurried off, they rushed to keep up with her, barely dodging the waiters who were swooping in and out amongst the tables. Trays hovered magically behind them, precariously stacked with drinks, rustic breads, and simmering, aromatic dishes.

Their table was indeed nice: situated in a cozy alcove near the back of the restaurant, it was bathed in warm light from a small window to its right. Two cushioned chairs flanked a rounded expanse of polished wood that would have been comfortable enough for four people, let alone two. A heavy, striped curtain was pulled off to the left, held back with a golden rope and tassel. Mrs. Whitby gestured to it in a silent question of whether or not they wanted the privacy.

Still a bit dazed from their reception, Harry looked slowly from her to the curtain and back again, and then shook his head minutely.

She smiled and pressed her hands together as though in prayer. “Very well. Please, do enjoy, and let me know if I may be of any assistance. I should very much like to think you will become regulars, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger.” And with that, she nodded charitably and was gone.

Harry and Hermione only had a moment in which to share a look before a waiter appeared at their table, dressed in white from head to toe. He offered them both a serene smile as his quill poised itself above his parchment pad, ready to take their orders.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

It was about fifteen minutes into their salads and bread when Harry realized he’d been completely neglecting Hermione. He guessed she’d been talking about her trip to Australia, but he’d been so lost in the events of Sunday past and the fight he’d had with Severus that he couldn’t concentrate on much else – including the food, which actually looked delicious. The sudden silence at their table had interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up.

Sure enough, Hermione was staring back at him, concern written all over her face. “What’s wrong, Harry? You’ve barely had a bite to eat and I doubt very much if you’ve heard a word I’ve said.”

“Sorry,” he sighed. “It’s just…” he trailed off, poking at some lettuce with his fork.

Hermione narrowed her eyes shrewdly. “Does this have anything to do with why you were heading to the dungeons a couple days ago? And why you have wounds on your hands?” she added, gesturing to his palms.

As though in reflex, Harry rotated his wrists at her mention and peered down at the gouges that were now almost healed. He touched his fingers to the raised areas of redness. Unsure of how many details he was prepared to divulge, particularly since he wasn’t the biggest fan of Evochi at the moment, he opted to answer her generically.

“Snape is helping me with some stuff. Some post-war stuff.” He motioned vaguely to his head.

If Hermione caught the use of Severus’ surname, she didn’t show it. “Ah,” was all she said, but Harry knew he hadn’t answered anything she would have been wondering about.

“So what happened?” she prompted.

Harry cringed, his mouth instantly forming into a frown. “I, uh… I sort of stormed out.” As he spoke, he felt regret lance through him again. He knew he had acted brashly, stupidly, and braced himself for the lecture he knew was coming.

Yet it didn’t. Instead, Hermione surprised him by softening her expression. “Why?”

Harry was about to respond when their entrees appeared. As the waiter reached to take Harry’s salad plate, however, he paused and then leaned over to speak discreetly.

“Are you finding everything to your satisfaction, sir?”

Startled, Harry turned to the waiter. “Oh. Yes. I guess I’m not that hungry. Sorry.”

“No apologies needed. Mrs. Whitby simply impressed upon me the importance of you having an exceptional experience here.”

Harry’s expression darkened. “Good for business, am I?”

“Harry!” Hermione hissed, looking as though she wanted to kick his leg under the table, but only just managed to stop herself. She turned to the waiter. “I’m so sorry, I’m sure he didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

Harry tried to cut in to say it was exactly how he hoped it sounded, but was stopped by a raised hand from the waiter. “Please, I fear I have given you the wrong impression. Mrs. Whitby is not using you as a beacon for business, I assure you – it is why she chose this specific table for you. She hopes her food and hospitality will speak for itself, and that every patron has a positive experience. She is, however, quite honored to have you, and asked that I see to your needs.” Then he turned to address Harry specifically. “When I saw your salad was untouched, I was concerned it had not met your expectations. I did not wish to upset you by my inquiry, only to correct something if it was amiss.”

Harry sighed and looked down at the table. Fuck, he thought. The fight with Severus was closer to the surface than he had cared to acknowledge, especially if a waiter just trying to do his job could set him off like that. “I’m sorry.”

A hand touched Harry’s shoulder, causing him to stop and look at up at the waiter. “Say no more. I will leave you to enjoy your entrees. If I can get you anything, please – don’t hesitate to ask.” After a gracious bow, he left.

Harry chanced a glance at Hermione. As expected, she looked scandalized. Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned forward across the table, her jaw clenched. “What happened between you and Severus?”

Leaning back in his chair, Harry removed his glasses and pressed his hands over his face, groaning angrily. He remained silent for several long moments, his chest rising and falling as he breathed. Finally, he ground out, “I don’t know.”

“Did you have a fight?”

He nodded, but was unable to elaborate. His emotions were growing uncomfortably tight, and he feared he would not be able to control himself if he spoke.

“Can you tell me what it was about?” Her voice was gentler again.

Dropping his hands, Harry replaced his glasses. “I’m not even sure I know.”

Hermione took a bite of her now-cooling lunch and chewed thoughtfully for a moment, sizing Harry up. “What did he say? Anything you are comfortable sharing?”

“That’s just it,” Harry sighed. “He didn’t really say anything.”

“Well, what were you hoping he’d say?”

“I don’t know, just… anything. Something to help me understand, I guess. I was so angry, and he just sat there like he couldn’t understand what I was on about!” His hand was going white from the grip he had on his fork.

“Somehow I doubt that, Harry. You know how he gets when he is cornered.”

“Are you actually defending him? Whose side are you on?”

Hermione sighed. “I’m not trying to be on anyone’s side, Harry. I’m just trying to help you see that despite your newfound friendship with Severus, he’s still very much the same person in a lot of ways. He has never been very adept at dealing with emotion, has he?”

Harry shot a glare in her direction. “He told me it wasn’t all about me, and that I should just get over myself!”

“Well, okay, but that sort of proves my point, doesn’t it? When he’s angry, I’ll bet he says things he doesn’t really mean, just like you do. This souvlaki is excellent, by the way,” she added, holding up a skewer of meat and roasted vegetables.

Harry was about to defend himself when Hermione’s remark reminded him they were at lunch. He wondered if she had done that on purpose. Nevertheless, he pulled his plate closer and took a bite of his moussaka, the dish recommended to him by the waiter. The waning temperature didn’t seem to affect his enjoyment of it, for which he was grateful, and he closed his eyes for a moment to indulge in the taste. It was delicious – sort of like the Greek version of lasagna, if he had to place it. Not wanting to repeat the salad debacle, he consumed several more mouthfuls in quick succession, barely stopping to chew, discovering as he did so that he had actually been ravenous.

Arching her brow in a fair imitation of Severus, she asked, “So why not go back and hear him out?”

“No! Why should I be the one to take the first step?”

“You were the one who stormed out,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Harry huffed, his brows pinched together. Not wanting to say something he’d probably regret, he took a large gulp of water from his glass. As the cool liquid hit his throat, he swallowed and took a few deep breaths, feeling it calm him. He wasn’t even sure why he was so upset. He looked back over at Hermione while idly rubbing his forehead. “I know. I guess I’m just not sure what to think anymore. Everything got so confusing with him and I…” he sighed, drawing out the pause in order to change tactics. “How do I know if I can trust him?”

He knew Hermione wouldn’t understand all the implications of that question, although by now she could probably guess this was about more than just post-war stuff. Either way, she didn’t press. He took a few more bites of his lunch, absently wondering if he could even remember when he had last eaten.

“Harry,” she began, “Severus has been protecting you for your entire life – much to your mutual annoyance, it seems. He has saved you more times than I can count at the moment, and since the war, you’ve become friends. After all that, why would you suspect he has anything but your best interests in mind? Has he done something to give you that impression?”

Harry stopped chewing and looked at her as he considered that. She was right, as usual. He scowled. But why was it that he didn’t feel he could trust Severus? What was this really about? After all, Severus had never shown any indication of an agenda. Even as a spy, his motives had been transparent – if you knew where to look.

“No,” he finally answered, feeling incredibly stupid.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been impulsive and quick-tempered. You also have the tendency to jump to conclusions about Severus – incorrect ones, I might add.”

Harry sneered. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“You two are so much alike, you know, it’s quite scary at times.” She paused to contemplate him, her head tipped slightly to the side. “You’re like fire on fire. I’m not surprised you two butt heads. I also wouldn’t be surprised to find you were brilliant—” But she stopped mid-sentence and shook her head, drawing her lower lip into her mouth. It was a rather poor show of stifling a grin.

Harry’s eyebrows danced near his fringe as he absorbed her comments – and her cryptic behavior. He knew he felt a lot of confusing emotions where Severus was concerned, but wasn’t sure he was keen on sorting through those just yet, and certainly not with Hermione giving him that look. Letting his thoughts stew for a moment, he finished off his lunch, barely resisting the urge to drag his fingers through the pool of rich, creamy sauce on his plate and lick them clean.

Then it hit him. Maybe Severus wasn’t the issue. Maybe it was that he didn’t trust himself. Truth be told, he had not given Severus a fair chance to explain. He had been so afraid of what he would hear, that in that moment, he had wanted nothing more than to get as far away from the experience as possible. At the time, that included Severus, although now that he’d thought on it, Severus was the only thing about that experience that had made it palatable.

Harry froze suddenly and looked up at Hermione, only to find her staring back, seeming to realize something had just occurred for him.

“What is it?” she asked.

A long-familiar sense of foolishness rushed over him. Oh, how he wished he wasn’t so accustomed to that feeling. He took a deep breath and sighed slowly. “Nothing. Just that I’m an idiot.”

Done with her lunch now, Hermione nudged her plate forwards so she could lean on the edge of the table. Her thoughtful expression had returned, coupled with a sardonic smile. “And if I know Severus, he’s probably blaming himself for whatever happened. If you two would just get over your ridiculous stubbornness, then perhaps you’d finally get tog—”

But she stopped abruptly once again, this time looking as though she had just unwittingly cheated on an exam. Confused, Harry was about to ask what was going on when the waiter returned to refill their water glasses, inquire after their meal, and tempt them with dessert. Harry noted with relief that the waiter seemed pleased by his empty plate.

“I trust it was satisfactory?” the waiter ventured.

“More than satisfactory. Looking forward to next time, actually.” Harry paused for a moment before adding, “Thank you.”

The waiter squared his shoulders and lifted his chin slightly. “My pleasure,” he assured. Inclining his head nobly, he bade them farewell and disappeared into the kitchen.

Harry leaned back in his chair and draped one hand loosely over his full stomach, his expression blank.

“You okay?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah.” He nodded with a deep sigh. “It’s just been an interesting couple of days, is all.”

“So it would seem.” She deposited two Galleons, four Sickles and a Knut into the leather folio the waiter had left. Then, leaning closer, she grasped one of Harry’s hands. “It will work out okay. You’ll see.” She smiled reassuringly and squeezed his hand.

For some reason, her words seemed to help release the remaining tension in his body even if he wasn’t quite sure he could believe them. Maybe it was also this place, this restaurant. He liked it. The food was delicious, of course, but it felt safe somehow; protected. That thought comforted him for only a moment, though, before he realized The Grecian was not the only place he felt that way. Yet the other was not so much a place, but a person.

Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to leave hit him. He knew what he had to do and who he had to see. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

On their way out, Harry was seized with one final impulse and quickly searched the crowded restaurant for Mrs. Whitby. When he spotted her well-coiffed brown curls near the front register, he wound his way through the pleasantly snug dining area and wrapped her in a big hug without so much as a word of preamble. For a moment, she seemed startled, but then quickly returned the gesture warmly, the brightness of her smile saying more than words ever could.

Standing upright again, Harry smiled down at her. “Thanks,” was all he said.

As they left the restaurant, Mrs. Whitby simply blinked after them, stunned. Glancing around for their waiter, she found him leaning against the back wall, looking back at her. He merely shrugged, a bewildered smile on his face.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

Severus’ attention was diverted from his pre-term preparations by a hollow knock on the doorframe to his office. When he looked up, he felt a frisson of nervousness ripple through his stomach at the sight that met his eyes: there, clad in black denims and a blue t-shirt, was Harry. His jacket was hanging from his left hand and his right arm was crossed in front of him protectively, clasping his left. As welcome of a sight as this was, rarely could Severus recall seeing Harry look so uncertain.

The urge to pull him into the room and lock the door assaulted Severus’ mind, but he quickly pushed it aside. Instead, a tense moment passed between them as they took turns diverting their eyes. The silence was finally broken when they both began to speak at once.

“I wanted to—”

“I must apol—”

At the sound of them talking over each other, they stopped. Harry allowed himself a small smile, but it faded quickly when Severus simply gestured blandly for him to resume.

Severus knew he was being difficult, but he needed to know what Harry had come to say. Since last seeing him, not a moment had gone by when he hadn’t run through what had happened; not a moment spared when he hadn’t regretted what he’d said. It had felt like two months had gone by, rather than the two days it had actually been. But damned if he was going to put himself on the line first. No, it had to be Harry. He looked on with carefully-veiled interest and waited.

Harry took the cue, albeit hesitantly. “Do you mind if I come in?”

Severus gestured his assent by indicating the chair opposite his desk.

Harry closed and warded the door behind him, and came to stand behind the chair. At such close proximity, Severus could clearly see the outline of Harry’s chest and toned arms underneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Not that he was noticing, however. He would likely observe that about anyone standing before him, he assured himself.

After Harry draped his jacket over the back of the chair, he stepped around the front and perched on the edge. Another heavy pause filled the room, in which Harry steadfastly looked at his shoes.

Severus knew he could be a patient man when it was warranted, but was quickly finding this was not one of those times. “Was there something you wished to say?”

At this, Harry looked up and met his gaze. The conflict, hurt, anger and fear all danced clearly in those emerald depths. Harry wasn’t even bothering to shield it from view, if it was even possible he could. Something sliced through Severus’ heart then, and he dearly wished he was the type of person who could give Harry what he deserved – anything at all, as long as it would take that pain out of his eyes. But then Severus’ ego chided him for the impulse, a reminder that he would stand to lose the most if the friendship dissolved, and therefore it was imperative he not succumb to emotional vulnerabilities.

Harry’s sigh pulled him from his warring mind and he refocused his gaze. Harry had since looked away, and was now picking absently at a fingernail. Before Severus could think what to do next, Harry began to speak.

“I don’t know what’s going on… or what this all means.” He paused, swallowing thickly. “But I’ve realized I… I would like your help figuring it out. If you’re still willing, of course,” he added hastily. When he looked back up, his eyes were glassy.

Severus felt the air rush from his lungs. Even if he had been so inclined (which he wasn’t), he would not have been able to say ‘no’ after seeing inside those eyes. He found he had to look away for a moment, overwhelmed as he was with his own storm of emotions, but then looked back quickly, even before he was truly able. If he ever hoped to get back in Harry’s good graces, now would not be the time to alienate him simply because he was ill-equipped to deal with the situation. What he ended up saying surprised him, as though it was someone else speaking, but he realized he meant every word of it.

“I am willing, and will do whatever I can to help you, Harry.”

The relief Harry exhibited was palpable: with a loud exhale, his posture sagged, and he dropped his face into his hands. The choked sob he seemed intent on masking escaped regardless, and he sat there like that for a long moment, breathing hard. When he spoke, his voice was muffled by his hands, but Severus still heard it clearly.

“Oh, God, I thought I had really made a mess of it this time. I acted like such an arse. Thank you for not tossing me out on my ear.” At this, he looked up, his hands falling to his lap. “I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

“‘Deserve’? Whatever are you on about?”

Harry blinked. “Aren’t you angry with me?”

“Why would I be angry with you?”

Harry at least had the decency to look sheepish. “Well, I did leave rather abruptly on Sunday. And I didn’t give you much of an opportunity to speak, either. I guess I wasn’t ready to hear any patronizing explanations.”

Severus sighed, understanding now. “It is I who was a disservice to you, Harry. I was never angry with you, I was angry with myself. I was at a loss for how to admit my failings, and it caused me to say some regrettable things. I apologize.”

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

As Harry absorbed what Severus was saying, pieces of his earlier conversation with Hermione swam in his mind. He began to cringe and smirk in equal parts, realizing – of course – that she had had both his and Severus’ number the whole time.

“Do you find this amusing?”

The question startled Harry. “Oh, no… no.” He shook his head slightly. “It’s just… Hermione was right about you. About us, I mean. She said I had jumped to conclusions and that you would be blaming yourself.”

An eyebrow arched inquisitively. “You told Hermione of your Evochi sessions?”

“No! No, we were just having lunch and… well, I suppose she is able to read me like a book after all this time.” He sighed. “We just talked about the argument a bit. I told her I had been an idiot.”

“Indeed?” A smirk invaded Severus’ tone.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

Harry seemed to fight a smirk, too, but eventually gave in, and they grinned at each other. The lightness and mirth had returned to Harry’s eyes, however briefly, and it filled Severus with a feeling he did not dare to name. He wished Harry could stay like that always, but knew the path ahead of them might be difficult. Rehashing painful memories and treating war trauma was a veritable minefield, yet it was crucial if Harry was ever to heal from his past.

If their present situation was teaching Severus anything, it was that he was now more determined than ever to see Harry through to the end of it; to make sure he got the future he deserved. Even if the process cost him Harry’s friendship, it would still be worth it. A small price to pay, in fact.

He then realized this was no longer solely about atonement. He still hoped to achieve some semblance of it, but it was not the driving force he once suspected it to be. Harry was under his skin now; had somehow managed to penetrate the carefully-constructed walls Severus had spent years and years perfecting. Damn him. Damn his kind eyes and patient generosity and tight shirts and perfect arse.

In the course of only a few short months, he had grown to care for Harry, and no one would ever be more surprised about that than him. However, though it pained him to think of a future without Harry, he also knew he could stake no particular claim in that area. Harry was free to make his own choices, and that likely meant finding a nice witch to settle down with; someone who could give him the family he never had. He would certainly have no shortage of prospects.

Then Severus had the sudden, uncomfortable visual of a brood of little Potters boarding the train to Hogwarts, with Harry and his wife looking on, smiling proudly and waving. It was painfully domestic and intimate, and the profound sense of exclusion and envy that washed over Severus highlighted the inevitable: he would simply fade into the background of Harry’s life, forgotten.

Severus felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He stood forcibly, causing the legs of his chair to grate loudly against the stone floor.

“I will be taking tea in my quarters.”

Startled and noticeably confused, Harry turned and watched as Severus left the room without another word.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

It felt a bit like déjà vu.

Once again Harry found himself standing outside Severus’ door, preparing to knock, butterflies wreaking havoc on his stomach. He had no idea what the hell that whole scene had been about. One moment they were grinning at each other, the next Severus seemed lost in thought – about what, Harry could not even begin to guess – and then suddenly he was gone.

Harry hoped it wasn’t something he had done.

As he reached up to knock, his hand brushed the handle. To his surprise, the door clicked and swung open. Inside the antechamber, he could see Severus seated on the sofa, reading. The corner of the newspaper folded down as Severus glanced up at his visitor.

Questions were crowding Harry’s mind as he entered and shut the door behind him, but what came out first was, “How did you know I was outside your door?”

“I didn’t. You must have touched the handle.” When Harry only blinked in response, Severus elaborated. “I keyed my wards to accept your touch. While we were conducting Evochi sessions, I wanted you to be able to enter and exit as you saw fit.”

“Oh. Brilliant. Thank you.” He tried for a small smile, but Severus just shook the newspaper back into place in front of him.

“Did I do something to upset you?” Harry asked next, an undercurrent of anger going with it.

“No, I am just waiting for tea to arrive. Have a seat if you like.” There was something about the offhand, artificial tone that irritated Harry.

“No, I’d like you to answer my question first.”

At this, both sides of the newspaper folded down, revealing the penetrating glare Harry remembered from his not-so-distant youth. Harry just crossed his arms over his chest and glared back.

“What the hell is going on?” he finally demanded, when no answer seemed forthcoming from Severus. “One minute we’re grinning and I’m thinking things are all right, and then the next you just take off. Is this some bizarre way of getting back at me for Sunday?”

Severus diverted his eyes, his jaw clenching. He crumpled his newspaper slowly and set it on the coffee table in front of him. Touching his wand to it lightly, he set it aflame. In a quick hiss of red and yellow, it popped out of existence.

In any other circumstance, Harry might have been impressed, but as it was, he was beginning to see red of his own sort. How long were they going to have to do this dance? Once again, he was reminded of something Hermione had said:

You’re like fire on fire. I’m not surprised you two butt heads.

Feeling his anger deflate a bit, he dropped into the nearest chair and looked over at Severus. Perhaps a new tactic was warranted. But how did one fight fire? Certainly not with more fire. Perhaps water, then. He cast his mind about for what that might entail when Severus seemed to pick up on the changed dynamic himself, and offered a shocking fact.

“I destroyed all the remaining vials of Evochi that were in my possession.”

“What? Why?”

Severus was tracing the contours of his wand with one hand, talking with a level of detachment that suggested his mind was still on weightier matters. “I assumed it had gone bad. It never occurred to me that Evochi would have a limited shelf life, particularly based on its ingredients. However, after what happened to you, I could only assume…”

Harry snorted. “Yes, so naturally you thought it was something you did.”

Severus’ gaze snapped up. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Harry lifted his hands as a show of surrender, sighing lightly. “Only that you tend to blame yourself when things go wrong, just as I said earlier. What I meant was, how can you be so sure the problem was the potion?”

But Severus was spared from answering as Pokey Apparated into the center of the room, carrying a tray with a late afternoon meal. After she laid everything out on the coffee table, she gave her customary bow to the room at large and disappeared.

Harry eyed the spread before them, watching as Severus filled a small plate with a variety of morsels and then began to eat. No doubt sensing the gaze, he motioned for Harry to help himself.

“I already ate. So how can you be sure the problem was the potion?” He found his question carried less bite and more curiosity now that the tension in the room had mellowed – a fact that Severus seemed to pick up on as well.

Severus finished whatever he was eating and pressed a napkin against his lips. “I suppose I don’t. But it seemed a logical explanation for what happened.”

Harry realized then he had no idea what Severus had actually witnessed – nor had he told Severus all that he had experienced – so it seemed they were both operating rather unscientifically. In reality, both ‘variables’ could have been to blame: a faulty potion combined with something Harry had done wrong. Or perhaps it had just been Harry. Maybe they would never know. But now that Severus had scrapped all the Evochi, he wasn’t sure where that left things.

He thought he should be relieved by the knowledge that no more existed, but something in the back of his mind was nettling at him. It felt like unfinished business somehow. He couldn’t believe he was about to ask this next question, as not two days ago he’d have been perfectly happy never hearing the word Evochi again. But now? Now something was different, and he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Do you think I will be able to use Evochi again? Sometime?” He winced a bit at how ridiculous he felt asking, though if Severus was surprised at the question, it wasn’t evident on his face.

“If you wish. I merely said I had disposed of all the existing stock, not that I hadn’t intended to brew more. In fact, I have already begun a new batch. This should allow me to rule out an errant potion if any problems occur in a future session.”

Harry should have felt comforted by that, but was still hung up on the idea that the potion hadn’t been the issue at all. He didn’t know how to explain that, though. He made a mental note to ask Severus some questions about it – but another time, as he wasn’t sure he wanted those answers just yet.

“How long does it take to brew?”

“Approximately three weeks. I estimate it should be ready for you mid-October.”

Harry nodded vaguely, then drifted into his thoughts. If he barely registered Severus finishing up his meal and Banishing the tray with a flick of his wand, he definitely missed the look Severus was giving him. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, or when he had slouched down into the cushions of the chair, but when Severus spoke again, that is where he found himself.

“Is something the matter?”

“Hmm? No, it’s just…” But before Harry could finish, he slipped back into his thoughts, pushing them around in his mind again. One in particular was really captivating him. So much so that a question about it tumbled out.

“Can two people be in the same Evochi reality at the same time? And see and experience the same things?”

Obviously struck by the question, Severus stared back speechlessly.

“What?” Harry asked.

Collecting himself, Severus sat up straighter on the sofa, his expression carrying equal parts shock and bemusement. “I am not sure what is more unsettling: you being the one to author such a notion, or me failing to consider it in the first place. Frankly, it is hard for me to reconcile either scenario.”

Harry couldn’t help it: even though he knew the dig was directed at him, he had to laugh. Smiling impishly, he chided, “See! I’m not as thick as you thought I was!” He found the sudden levity was erasing much of his tension, and he was grateful for the reprieve.

Severus smirked, the corners of his eyes softening. It was the closest thing to a proper laugh he seemed to allow himself, but nevertheless, he was clearly enjoying the moment.

Then, more seriously: “May I ask where this idea came from?” Harry sobered quickly.

“I dunno, actually. I was just thinking about how Voldemort used our link to plant images in my mind fifth year. It wasn’t Legilimency, strictly speaking, but then neither is Evochi. I was just wondering if you’d be able to join me during a session and experience the same things. Or I mean if anyone could. Do that.” He felt his cheeks heat.

Severus arched his brow as his eyes flicked briefly over Harry’s face. “I haven’t a clue, actually. It is an intriguing notion, however, and the theory appears sound. I shall conduct the necessary research.” He paused, regarding Harry thoughtfully. “Some assistance might speed things along, if you are interested. You are certainly entitled, as the idea was yours.”

Harry couldn’t be positive, but he was pretty sure that was compliment. From Severus Snape. And about something vaguely intellectual. He found he couldn’t stop the sloppy grin from appearing on his face.

“I’d like that. Our regular schedule, then? This Sunday?”

Severus nodded. “Agreed, but with one modification, if I may. I would like to start our research by perusing the Black family library.”

Harry didn’t know why the thought of Severus visiting his home suddenly tingled something in his core. Severus had been there on several occasions over the summer and his presence had never elicited this reaction before. Severus was, in fact, keyed to the entrance wards, so his asking for permission was merely propriety, not necessity.

It’s only research, Harry mentally chastised. After all, the Black family library was reputed to be one of the oldest remaining collections of hard-to-find tomes and references on the Dark Arts – as well as those grayer, middle-of-the-road sorts of arts they were more likely after.

Deciding he should just ignore the feeling for now, Harry nodded back. “Of course, whatever you need.” But despite his best efforts, the butterflies began anew.
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The Unexpected Side Effect of Draught No. 9