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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.

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Chapter 9: Draught No. 2

It was a week later, to the day, when Harry stepped through the door of the Potions classroom to find Severus seated at his desk, focused on the parchment before him, his quill scratching away vigorously. He didn’t look up and Harry got the sense that now would not be a good time to interrupt. He was a few minutes early anyway.

Harry glanced around the room before his eyes settled on the desk he had occupied as a student. As he walked over to it and slipped into the seat, a surge of memories filled his mind. However, unlike his first visit back to Hogwarts last week, this time he welcomed them. His fingers caressed the worn, wood surface of the desk, with its random stray gouges and ink stains, trying to remember how many of them were his. He smirked. As he cast his eyes to the left, he could almost feel Hermione sitting next to him again – usually with her arm in the air, pouncing on every question. Just beyond her would have been Ron. As he turned to look over his right shoulder, he could clearly see Draco there, his white-blond hair and haughty sneer staring back. Harry felt himself sigh, marveling at how much had changed; how much simpler things were then, even if it didn’t seem like it at the time.

Then there was his sixth year, with Professor Slughorn. It had seemed so strange not having Professor Snape for Potions that year, although he seemed to make up for it in spades with his rigorous Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Yet there had still been a piece of Severus that remained with Harry during that sixth year, although Harry didn’t realize or appreciate it until it was too late: the old Potions textbook bearing the now-infamous moniker of Half-Blood Prince. He wondered how – or if, honestly – things would have been different if he had known right away it was Severus’ book. And what ever became of it? Did it burn as he had feared? He liked to think that when cornered, Severus read the truth from his mind and saw to it to retrieve his prized possession. Or at least Harry hoped so, although he wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly that it should be so.

At this, Harry glanced up. Severus still appeared engrossed in his work. Harry watched him for a minute, noticing for the first time that Severus’ brow furrowed in concentration and his lips pursed together as he wrote. His shoulder-length black hair had swung forward a bit to curtain his face as his head hovered over the parchment. The top of his head glinted in the scant light in the classroom and Harry wondered if it was because Severus’ hair was actually greasy… or because it was soft.

Harry tipped his head slightly as he took in Severus’ quill hand, the long, pale fingers wrapped gracefully around the stem. His hands were masculine, Harry realized, but also… quite elegant. The pallid skin was smooth-looking but lightly stained at the fingertips, no doubt from years of preparing potions ingredients. For some reason, Harry couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to touch Severus’ hands, or to be touched by them – would they be warm? His body answered him with a familiar stir just south of his navel.

It was then that Severus spoke for the first time, even though he had not moved an inch or stopped writing.

“Yes…?”

Harry startled a bit and quickly shifted his glance away from Severus, feeling his cheeks flush with color. How does he do that? Irritation flashed through Harry – at being caught, yes, but also at not having the opportunity to just sit and take in the sight of his former professor for as long as he pleased. Severus was such an enigmatic man – one with many redeeming qualities, Harry knew, yet also one burdened with deep emotional wounds, if the little Harry knew of him was anything to go by.

It was hard getting Severus to open up. They had spent their fair share of time butting heads over the last few months, mostly when Severus’ insistence on being stubborn overlapped with Harry’s tendency to be impatient. Harry seemed to have a never-ending list of questions he wanted to ask Severus, but rarely got up the nerve (or had the opportunity) to ask more than a couple at a time. Yet the more he learned, the more he wanted to know.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

When Severus finally put down his quill and rolled up the parchment, he daubed a small amount of red wax onto the open flap and firmly pressed a brass seal into it. Afterwards, he set the parchment aside, sighing with finality.

“I have been writing up that research for hours and was just about finished when you walked in – and then a connection I had not seen before occurred to me and had to record it before it was lost. I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

Harry shrugged noncommittally. “No problem.”

Severus refocused his eyes on Harry then and noticed for the first time where he was sitting. Looking pointedly at the desk and then back at Harry, he remarked, “Interesting choice, Potter. A coincidence, no doubt?”

Harry smirked by way of response. “I was feeling nostalgic.” Then he tipped his head. “Wait, how did you know this used to be my desk?”

At that, Severus’ breath hitched slightly, feeling a little caught out. Thankfully Harry was too far away to hear. To cover it, Severus offered a sardonic retort. “Perhaps it has something to do with the five years you sat there, steadfastly refusing to imbibe the subtle art of potion-making.” He raised an eyebrow then, something of a satisfied smirk teasing his lips as he prepared to needle further. “I do recall a fair number of cauldron mishaps from that general location, though it was often difficult to distinguish your failures from those of Mr. Longbottom’s.”

“Sod off,” Harry said with a grin. Then he began to laugh heartily, as though he couldn’t stop himself. It seemed the sort of laughter that had no real cause or purpose, yet kept itself going simply by existing in the first place, even long after the original joke had faded. On Harry, it also seemed to melt away the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders.

Severus merely watched with some degree of amusement. He was not inclined at all to join in, though found a rare gratification in seeing Harry completely at ease and relaxed in his presence – such a stark juxtaposition in this setting particularly. Severus savored the handsome face of his young charge, the unbridled mirth there a soothing balm for his tortured soul. He often wished he was able to show his emotions with such abandon, but it was simply not in his nature. He had learned early on – too early – to suppress even his most basic expressions of… humanity.

Severus’ face fell as the weight of that word settled over him. He sighed, feeling trapped again by the same sense of hopelessness that had plagued him for years. Happiness was only for those far more naïve than him and he saw no point in entertaining the notion of achieving it, having long-ago accepted it was not something fated for his life. It was foolish to want something that was not deserved.

Except…

No.

He dismissed the thought immediately and looked back at Harry, who was calming but still chuckling at odd intervals, enjoying what was left of his fit of fancy. His face was flushed red from the exertion of laughing and his eyes sparkled – more than normal, if that was even possible. Severus indulged himself in the scene for only a moment longer and then cleared his throat loudly.

Harry suddenly ceased his laughing, as though he were a student being shushed by the teacher, but did not wipe the grin from his face when he looked back up at Severus. “Sorry.”

“No matter,” Severus responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It is good to see you can still entertain yourself in my classroom.”

Harry looked as though he was trying to figure out if it was a joke or not, and Severus took pity on him by switching gears.

“Are you ready to begin your next session?”

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

The abrupt change in conversation caused Harry to steel his expression accordingly, but it felt a bit like the walls of the room were suddenly closing in on him. A flutter of nervousness stirred the pit of his stomach, reminding him again why he was there. He wished he could have said he was excited about his second dose of Evochi, but the reality was he felt more apprehensive now than he did before the first dose – and this one would be a full batch, a complete hour…

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

The heady scent of Severus’ private lab hit Harry’s nose as they entered the dark room. He had forgotten about this somehow. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, taking the essence of the room into his lungs. He felt his heartbeat steady itself and his nerves begin to abate in response to the familiar and safe surroundings. A soft glow beyond his eyelids interrupted his pensive moment, and as he opened them, he was not surprised to find that the room was now illuminated. He wandered automatically towards the large chaise situated near the opposite wall and sat down on it, leaning back to make himself comfortable.

Severus emerged from his storeroom and summoned his black chair as he walked towards Harry, a large vial of Evochi in his left hand. Harry found that the potion’s shimmering, indigo color was as mesmerizing as ever, and was grateful to feel a surge of excited anticipation spread through his body at the sight of it. He watched as Severus positioned his chair and sat down, arranging the other objects that had apparently come along with it.

Harry realized then that Severus was, once again, not wearing his teaching robes. Perhaps he never did in the off-season? Harry couldn’t be sure, for he had never interacted with Severus over a summer break, save for this last one after the war, but that was different. And when in public, Severus always had his full contingent of robes on – perhaps to stand on ceremony for the sake of professionalism and position, or maybe just because he came across as rather intimidating in them. Harry smirked at the notion that it was probably the latter. It was just strange seeing Severus in black trousers and a black jumper inside Hogwarts. It suited him, but that particular wardrobe in the context of a school setting addled Harry’s thinking.

At this, Severus looked over at Harry. “What is it?”

Harry snapped his head up and wiped the expression off his face. “Oh, nothing…”

Severus arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press further. “Are you prepared, then?” he asked after a moment.

Harry nodded. In truth, he’d had all week to think about it, yet the answer for what to do in this draught had come to him on his first day home at Grimmauld, when he was trying to forget his embarrassment over his parting interaction with Severus. Really, staying the night? As if Severus would have wanted him to do that! Harry tried not to cringe at the memory of it.

“Very well,” Severus acknowledged. “Shall we begin?”

Harry nodded again, pressing himself firmly into position on the chaise. He uttered the incantation, slowly and clearly, and then opened his mouth to feel the potion begin to layer itself onto his tongue. He closed his eyes, ready to give himself over to the sensation, ignoring the way his pulse was beating a steady rhythm in his ears. When he felt the last drop fall, he pressed his lips together and swallowed hard, feeling the odd warmth of the substance coat his throat. The last thing he remembered before his body completely slackened was his tongue rubbing the potion’s residue off his teeth.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

Harry sat up on the hard surface, staring around at the blankness before him. This time his surroundings did not cause him anxiety because he realized right away it was an Evochi-induced reality. At that, he pulled forth in his mind the details of his intention for this draught and watched with great interest as the emptiness before him started to take shape. However, the scene that began to appear, although familiar, surprised him. He guessed it was because he had not been that specific as to the location he wanted (or had not selected one at all) and was curious why his mind had chosen this particular place.

The sandy beach beneath his fingers was damp from the morning’s high tide but simply sat glistening in the sunshine now. He stood up and looked out at the rough waters of the sea, white caps dancing across the tops of waves as they crashed and undulated back into the vast pool. The sound rushed into his ears and he relished the peacefulness of it, but knew he had more important business here and could not indulge it right now.

Turning around, he eyed the rocky cliff before him and the winding stone path that led to the top. He carefully made his way up, the soothing melody of the ocean behind him growing quieter with every step. It felt like summer. The sunshine was warm on his shoulders, and the steady breeze that lifted the hair off his forehead was rife with the lingering tang of salt.

As he reached the top of the path, he smiled as the full scene came into view: Shell Cottage.

The gabled roof of the modest structure was shingled in black and quite weather-worn, but looked sound enough, exactly as he had seen it for the first time – which was just earlier this year, he realized surreally. The tall, wild grasses blanketing the land swayed gently in the wind, lending a friendly-but-neglected feel to the setting, as if it was still unspoiled by man. Just beyond the house, a ring of large, mature trees dotted the landscape, framing and protecting it from the elements.

As Harry approached the cottage, he glanced over somewhat automatically to the grave where he had buried Dobby, the flowers around the perimeter now in full bloom. He felt a small pang of sadness run through him as he remembered, but only smiled wistfully, inclining his head a fraction in respect as he passed by. As he turned back to look at the front door, he half expected to see Bill and Fleur come running out to greet him, wide smiles on their faces. But they never appeared.

Someone else did, however.

Harry felt his pulse race and his face light up with joy as he took in the sight of the man before him, seeing him perhaps better-looking and more well-rested than he ever had in life. His black hair was still long and starting to gray; his face, clean-shaven but with a permanent shadow of stubble; his eyes, twinkling with adoration; his mouth, spread into that easy, comfortable smile. Harry whooped and ran the last few paces as the other man walked down the steps, away from the door, to meet him halfway.

“Sirius!” Harry yelled as he jumped into his arms, wrapping himself tightly around Sirius’ shoulders. When Sirius embraced him firmly in return, Harry felt his feet lift off the ground as they swung together in a wide circle. It had seemed to Harry that the two years they’d been separated by Sirius’ death had lasted an eternity, but now… here, in this space, it seemed only to have been the blink of an eye – truly as though Sirius had never left.

As Harry began to take in the situation more clearly, he realized he could feel the warmth of Sirius’ back beneath his arms and his Godfather’s breath against his neck. He was real! Flesh and blood! This revelation buoyed Harry’s emotions to the point where he thought his heart might burst at the sheer magnitude – and significance – of what he was experiencing.

When Harry felt his feet touch the ground again, he released his arms and stepped back slightly, eagerly taking in the man before him, a wide grin playing at his lips.

“Harry…” Sirius drawled affectionately, a warm smile softening the contours of his face. “God, it’s so good to see you. Come, come inside. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Sirius hopped up the steps to the door and opened it wide, motioning for Harry to enter. Harry looked at him quizzically, wondering how it was possible that an inhabitant of his reality could suddenly control the action without his involvement. But he went along with it for now, curious to see what Sirius had in store for him, and decided that perhaps there was still a lot he didn’t know about Evochi.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

Severus leaned back in his chair and eyed the clock on the wall. Harry was fifteen minutes into his second draught and already beaming like a child at the window of a sweets shop. He took in Harry’s placid but giddy features, relishing the fact he could look his fill without interruption or notice. He wondered what Harry was experiencing this time around, particularly in the few moments prior when he had uttered the strangest noise and then his left foot had flopped onto the floor. Severus had reached down to gingerly grab Harry’s ankle and replace it back on the chaise. He knew for a fact that similar things had happened to him during his Evochi sessions – waking in strange positions, wondering how he got there – at least until the potion wore off enough for him to collect his faculties. He also recalled, with a pang of shame, his other, worse, outcomes.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

Harry took a seat in the center of the small sofa and leaned back against the tattered quilt that was draped over the back. Small throw pillows were propped against the arms, and to his left and right he was flanked by two chairs, one with rockers along the bottom. It was just as he remembered it, except it seemed homier now – perhaps because the knowledge of what he was prophecised to do was no longer looming over him. The sunshine from outside streamed into the window above the kitchen sink and illuminated the faded, yellow counters. Harry smiled as he absorbed the nuances of the small cottage.

Upon entering, Sirius had ducked into a small room off the living area but reemerged now… with someone in tow. Harry had heard the door to the small room open and turned to look back over his shoulder at Sirius and—

“Remus?” Harry gasped. He turned and leaped fluidly over the top of the sofa, noting the casual, gentle smile on Remus’ face, before wrapping his arms around the man. Remus hugged him back, swaying them slightly. As they parted, Harry placed his hands on Remus’ upper arms and took in the man before him. Remus smiled shyly at the scrutiny and darted his eyes briefly over to Sirius, who was grinning broadly. Harry caught the glance and then paused for a moment, looking first at Sirius, and then back to Remus. He lowered his arms and stepped back slightly in order to see both of them together.

“Wait…” Harry started, something beginning to formulate in his mind. “You guys aren’t…”

At this, Sirius stepped closer and wrapped an arm around Remus’ shoulders, placing a soft, lingering kiss to his temple. Remus’ eyelids fluttered closed at the show of affection and he leaned into the touch, the same small smile set serenely on his lips.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he felt his mouth drop open. “No…” he breathed, but the corners of his lips seemed to disregard his shock completely and twitched into a wry smile. Harry lurched forward and wrapped his arms around both men. When he stood back again, he searched Sirius’ face first.

“You okay, Harry?” Sirius grinned.

Harry looked over at Remus next, the warm amber eyes there more peaceful-looking than he had ever remembered. Remus just lifted his eyebrows as he shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Seeming to want to make himself useful, or perhaps avoid an awkward pause, Remus looked at Harry and smiled. “Tea?” Without waiting for an answer, he scurried off towards the kitchen, the light clanking of a pot and teacups echoing into the small room.

Harry turned back to Sirius, still trying to process everything. “How long…?”

Sirius pulled him close, affectionately draping his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Now that’s a good question. I think, if I’m being truthful… always.” He smiled earnestly and Harry beamed back at him.

Then, after a beat, “Did my parents know, too?”

Sirius grimaced with a smile. “I’m pretty sure everyone knew except me. I was such an idiot, Harry.”

Harry’s easy laughter filled the small room, and Sirius looked relieved at the response. Quickly, he shot a glance over to Remus, who seemed to be waiting for the confirmation, his expression tentative as he looked up through the fringe of his hair. Upon seeing Sirius’ look, he lifted his head fully and his face brightened. Then he turned promptly to grab the tray with tea and walked into the sitting area with it, transferring the three cups to the wooden trunk they used for a coffee table.

Harry and Sirius wandered over and sat next to each other on the small sofa. Sirius turned slightly towards Harry, one leg folded underneath him, his arm resting casually across the back. Remus opted for the rocking chair to their right, loosely crossing one leg over the other as he moved it back and forth slowly, cradling his teacup in his hands. Harry just leaned back against the cushions, sprawling his legs out in front of him, folding his arms behind his head.

Sirius lifted his teacup off the trunk as he spoke. “All right, Harry, let’s hear it. Start at the beginning. We want to know everything.” His eyes sparkled, alight with interest. After all, the story had been stopped abruptly for Sirius and he seemed keen to pick it up where he’d left off.

SSHP-SSHP-SSHP

The laughter in the room trailed off suddenly when Sirius put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and inquired about the name he had just heard.

“Wait… did you just say Severus? Severus Snape? He… survived?”

Harry’s face sobered as he looked curiously at his Godfather. “Yeah, he did. Why?”

Sirius shook his head a bit. “So the old git managed to do it, then.”

“Don’t call him that,” Harry responded mournfully. “And he almost didn’t survive.”

Remus sat forward in his chair then, placing his empty teacup on the trunk before him. Of the two men, Harry knew only Remus would share his concern over Severus. Sirius knew this, too, and shot Remus an indignant look, but Remus ignored it.

Harry looked down, remembering Severus’ retelling of what had happened after Harry had left him in the Shrieking Shack. A familiar rush of guilt washed over him then, something he hadn’t felt this acutely in months. He remembered collecting Severus’ memories in a vial that Hermione had conjured for him, and then waited around long enough to heed Severus’ last request of him: simply to ‘Look at me…’ Then the body of his former professor had gone limp, his neck bleeding profusely from Nagini’s fatal bite. Or what he thought had been fatal.

“Harry…?” Remus prodded gently, no doubt seeing the pain in Harry’s expression.

Harry looked up at Remus and took a deep breath. “After Severus was bitten by Nagini – that’s Voldemort’s snake – he collapsed onto the floor. The wound in his neck was so bad, I had no idea what to do. I assumed it was too late… and then he went limp.” Harry decided he would leave out the more emotional details in this version. “So I left him there. I thought he was dead.”

Sirius was looking to the side, a slightly impatient look on his face. Remus was leaning towards Harry, listening intently, one of his hands resting gently on Harry’s knee. “Go on,” he urged.

“Later, when Severus told me the story, I… I couldn’t believe it.” Harry bit back the emotion that threatened anyway before continuing. “It was Fawkes!”

“Fawkes? You mean Dumbledore’s phoenix?” asked Remus incredulously.

Harry nodded, rubbing his eyes with his palms before replacing his glasses. “Yeah. Remember what Dumbledore told me? That I must have shown great loyalty to him in order to have summoned Fawkes? That means Severus must have shown Dumbledore the same loyalty in order for Fawkes to come to him, too.” He paused again, still fighting to maintain his composure. “Turns out phoenix tears are an extremely effective antidote to the Dark poison in Nagini’s fangs. Then the Healers at St. Mungo’s did the rest. It was several hours before Madam Pomfrey could retrieve him from the Shack, though.” Harry also decided to leave out the part about how Madam Pomfrey knew where to find Severus.

Sirius scoffed lightly and Remus glared at him briefly, a warning that told him to skip the theatrics, at least for now, for Harry’s benefit. Remus looked back at Harry and addressed him.

“So Severus has fully recovered then?”

Harry nodded. “As far as I can tell. He has a bit of a nasty scar on his neck, though, but if it’s bothering him he hasn’t told me.”

Remus tipped his head at that. “You two are… friendly?”

Harry considered this for a moment and then realized that talking about Severus in this manner probably did seem vastly out of context, particularly from the perspectives of Remus and Sirius. Harry didn’t feel like going into a lot of detail about it, though, especially as that would mean explaining how he came to know Severus’ back story and true allegiances in the first place. In the end, Harry only offered up the basics.

“Yeah, we became friends after the war was over, after Severus was out of the hospital. Neither of us had anyone else, really, so it just kinda happened.”

“That’s not true, Harry, you have lots of people that love you and consider you family,” Remus countered. At this, Sirius nodded in agreement and looked at Harry, too.

Harry dropped his head again, speaking into his chest. “I did… I mean I do. But you don’t know what it was like after the war. Everyone was dazed and sort of reeling from it all, and they all gathered their families together and stuck close to home. They invited me but I just didn’t feel like part of it for some reason. It didn’t feel the same after the war.”

Remus squeezed Harry’s knee gently, seeming to understand. Sirius leaned over then, looping his arm around Harry’s neck and drawing him close. Harry tensed at first but quickly relaxed into the embrace, feeling his head tuck underneath Sirius’ chin and a pair of lips press softly against the mop of black hair on his head. Harry felt the sentiment in the gestures of both Remus and Sirius – he did have family, people who loved him very much indeed. But the fact that Sirius and Remus only existed in this Evochi-induced construct meant their actions could not comfort him fully. At some point he would have to return to his life, his one true reality, and continue to make his way on his own. Sure, he would always have friends and people who cared for him – several sets of surrogate parents, actually – but he realized he’d always been something of a loner; content, in that odd way, to be so self-reliant.

And then there was Severus. He understood because he was a loner, too. This was chief among the reasons that they got on so well, Harry thought. They didn’t bother rehashing the past or patronizing each other, it was entirely unnecessary. They could often comprehend the other with little more than a look. Perhaps with Severus, then, Harry might have something a family couldn’t offer.

He closed his eyes then, listening to the steady beat of Sirius’ heart against his ear. He turned onto his side and drew his arms and legs into himself as the temperature around him began to change. Soon, the quiet thrumming of the heartbeat started to fade from his mind, replaced by a warm hand pressing gently against his forearm and a deep voice calling his name. His mind seemed to move rapidly towards it.

Slowly opening his eyes, the grey fabric of the chaise came into focus and he blinked hard. When he looked up, he was surprised to see Severus’ contented expression staring back. It lasted for only a moment, though, and then everything went black.
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The Unexpected Side Effect of Draught No. 9