ACT TWO, chapter twenty:
the dog days are done
the horses are coming
so you better run
ϟ
2 august 1993 — third year.
Summer had been hell.
Lili's quill tapped uselessly at crisp paper, a massive drop of ink staining the parchment black. She had no idea why this was so difficult. She had corresponded with Hermione, Draco, and Ron a few times throughout the summer (when she could muster up the energy), and she'd even reached out to Ginny Weasley to check in and make sure she, too, hadn't gone insane. But there was one person she was struggling to write to.
An open letter from Harry sat beside her on the desk.
And it was the same old, same old.
'Everything is fine. Stop worrying. My relatives are treating me all right, mostly ignoring me which is what I prefer. Speaking of ignoring, do ignore whatever Ron and Hermione told you, Lili, they have the wrong end of it. The Dursley's did not put locks on my bedroom door; how ridiculous. And the Dursley's most certainly are not starving me; really, where do Ron and Hermione come up with these ideas?
By the way, I haven't started on our summer assignments yet; I know Hermione will lecture me senseless. I fully expect to copy off you on the train, please and thank you. Hedwig doesn't get to hunt as much as she'd like, but we're making do. I can't wait 'til school starts and we can all be together again. Please write back soon.'
Lili didn't know how much of it to believe.
Of course she'd sent him a birthday present so he'd have it at midnight on his thirteenth birthday, but the letters nowadays, they were always just so:
Dear Harry,
No matter how many times she tried, she couldn't get any further than that. 'Dear Harry' and then... nothing. It was pitiful. Lili heaved a sigh, folded her arms on her desk, and dropped her face onto them. How could she write to him like everything was fine when it wasn't? How could she demand he be honest when she wasn't being honest herself? It was terrible, but it was easier to lie to Hermione and the others than it was to Harry. Harry's existence in Lili's life demanded truth, and right now, the truth was too hard to face.
Life had been... bad, lately.
Since the mess with the Chamber of Secrets at the end of Second Year, Lili hadn't felt herself.
Her nightmares were worse than ever. She dreamt of the Pensieve memories of her mother who was the most devoted follower of the Dark Lord and was apparently wretched and vile and evil. She dreamt of her memories of her father's escape from fellow Death Eaters that resulted in the loss of two fingers and the scar on her lip. She dreamt of being trapped in her own mind with the Dark Lord and only her father capable of freeing her. She wondered if he would be able to do that again now.
Lili dreamt that she was destined to be the villain.
Things had been decidedly icy between Lili and Sev.
Most days, the girl didn't see her father at all. Even at mealtimes. Sometimes she emerged from her room, hunched up and shivering, or sometimes, unable to get up at all, she was confined to a summer in bed, but always she'd find that he had left out food under stasis, way too much of it. Usually, she could manage only half, and after she shuffled back to her room or rolled back over, he took it away again when she didn't notice. And Sev, well, he spent more time in his potions lab, did not attempt conversations, played the music louder than ever.
Lesser known fact about one Severus Snape: he had a penchant for rock music, and he was something of a punk in his day, apparently — though she only discovered this once she first came to Spinner's End as they couldn't listen to any of their music while at Hogwarts, unfortunately.
Lie lie lie lie, you liar
You lie lie lie, tell me why
Tell me why, why d'you have to lie
Even from where she sat in the windowsill, cheek resting on her arms whilst resting on her knees, Lili found herself mouthing along to the words blasting from below:
Should've realised that you
Should've told the truth
Should've realised you know what I'll do
Lili had to face a load of hard truths in the past year. One: her mother was in prison. Two: her father likely deserved to be in prison. Three: her father wasn't in prison because he was a spy. Four: her godfather was the Dark Lord who had tried to possess and/or kill her friends annually. Five: she had been damned since the beginning.
It was almost too much to take.
The girl barely left her room, nevermind going to the river or the park or any of the usual places she went when back in Cokeworth. Besides her summer assignments, she wasn't sure if she'd opened a single book at all this summer. No reading forbidden texts. No sketching in margins. She still occasionally helped Sev with meals and still tended to their garden, but... it was so stilted, so tense, that it didn't feel at all natural.
Sometimes Lili paced her room like a caged tiger, and she became intimately familiar with every little aspect of the space. It took ten steps to reach the wall with the window and it took eight to reach the door from her bed. If she laid on the floor in the corner at exactly two PM, she could bask in the sun's warmth for at most three hours, and the floorboard between the bed and the nightstand creaked if she put more than one foot on it.
Only very occasionally did Lili feel the sudden and startling need to get out, out, out. The farthest she could get was the downstairs sitting room. She was mercifully alone there, too, most of the time. She found herself bundled in Professor Sprout's quilts in the tightest corner of the ratty couch, head crooked awkwardly on the armrest, watching the fire, listening to the fuzzy radio.
Lately, the reporters had been chattering nonstop about some escaped convict.
"—The public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A 13 special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately. The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today that..."
Barely interested, her eyes trailed to the low table where today's issue of The Daily Prophet was torn and mangled and practically in pieces. Through the shreds, in the firelight, she read in big bold print: BLACK AT LARGE. Under it was a large photograph of a gaunt—faced man with long, matted hair screaming madly at Lili from the front page. The name sounded familiar...
The radio turned off suddenly.
Lili lifted her head (d—mn, her neck hurt now) and found Sev rather rudely slamming down the antenna and stuffing the Muggle device away.
"I was listening to that," she commented dully.
Her father tensed and jerked at the sound of her voice, hair swishing to look at her in what she'd say was shock if she didn't know any better. Fair enough, though. After all, when was the last time she'd started a conversation?
After a moment, his familiar sneer seemed to come over his face, "Oh, yes. Because you most certainly need to be entertained by the tales of an infamous mass murderer escaping the impenetrable fortress that is Azkaban."
With that, Sev swiveled and strode into their small kitchen. Lili followed him, socked feet shuffling, having no energy to take even a step. Curious, that was what she was. For once this summer, she managed to feel something other than numbness.
After all, no one had ever escaped Azkaban.
Feeling strange and out of place, Lili kept to the doorway while Sev waved his wand furiously over a cauldron on the stove. Even if she wasn't well on the way to becoming a Potions Master herself, Lili would still be able to tell this did not work as Sev started cursing with a lot of swears that would've made Dumbledore tsk. Whatever was inside was belching thick spurts of blue steam, and it smelt vaguely of burnt vegetables. She watched blankly as her father swiftly stirred in dried bits of knotgrass that finally forced the cauldron into calm.
Sev finally stepped back with a tight exhale, spitting, "Well, that was nearly a whole waste."
He turned round and leant against the counter to stare at her, and it took effort to not squirm under his inquisition.
Now that the potion had been saved, Lili could identify it. Blue smoke and the deep velvety scent told her it was Wolfsbane Potion. This was odd. Perhaps he had a new mail order client requesting it? Still, her father, who notoriously hated werewolves, was helping a werewolf... No. She shook these thoughts off; she had enough to contemplate right now.
Lili matched Sev's penetrating black stare, still bundled in the quilts, wrapped tightly over her shoulders and folded round her messy head.
"Who is Black?"
"A b—stard and a fool." She had one arched eyebrow, and he rose one of his own to meet it. "Sirius Black is mad. He is and has always been a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. You'll find that the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse."
Lili almost shivered at that. Instead, she gritted, "He was a Death Eater, then?"
Sev inclined his head, though his expression was somewhat complicated. "They say he was very close to the Dark Lord, yes, but his involvement with the Dark was not revealed until the end of the war. Everyone was shocked by his betrayal as his true loyalties were kept very secret. Not even I knew."
"Not even you," she repeated just as dully as before.
Sev's face was tense, every sharp feature held rigid. He did not intend to bring up their conversation from the end of Second Year, that much was clear.
"Well." The girl croaked, voice raspier than ever. "I suppose any fool can kill. It has to be easy — as easy as brewing a potion, whispering a spell, or frightening a child."
Sev stared at Lili for several minutes, and his gaze didn't leave the spot where she stood, even long after she'd left it.
ϟ
Lili was sitting on the windowsill, tracing lines in the fog on the window with the three fingers left of her right hand.
In her eyes was a faraway look that was impossible to decipher. Her hair was tangled jungle, a bird's nest, looking like a mad woman's breakfast atop her head. She'd not gotten out of her pajamas in days and she couldn't remember the last time she'd showered. Greasy dungeon bat's daughter, a snide voice inside mocked cruelly. She smothered it hastily.
Lili heard voices downstairs, more than just Sev's familiar low baritone.
They'd not had a guest in... ages. Occasionally, Dumbledore would appear for an impromptu meeting or McGonagall would arrive out of the blue to have a check—in on Lili (as well as irritate her father about child—rearing tips), but that hadn't happened in years.
And besides, neither of those people were currently occupying the sitting room. When Lili crept down the staircase, pressing her ear against the back of the bookshelf that led into the sitting room, she heard the new voice was young and distinctly male's, like a boy's. Tentatively, the girl pushed open the bookcase and then startled at the sight of not only her father but a very familiar and rather infamous boy.
"Harry?"
At the sound of her voice, Harry Potter turned and his angry green eyes brightened, "Lili!"
"Remove your shoes," Sev suddenly snapped at said boy, interrupting them both, "I will not tolerate any mess in my house."
Harry shot a dark look at the back of his head but swiftly obeyed, slipping off his trainers and sliding them neatly against the wall. Lili watched as the boy glanced round their small home with subtle curiosity before his eyes snapped back to Sev's face when he started speaking.
"As you can see, Lilium, Potter has bestowed us with the dubious honour of his presence. Aren't we fortunate?"
Lili was so confused. Harry made a face at the side of Sev's head before shyly looking at the girl, a small half—smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Under her father's intense gaze, she knew better than to truly smile back.
"Yea," she scratched a bit self—consciously at her tangled hair, "But, uhm, why...?"
"Because," her father replied with a rather mean smirk. "It seems the Headmaster refuses to allow his Golden Boy to traipse round Muggle London as he pleases. How tragic."
"Dumbledore forced him to take me," Harry spat through his teeth, answering Lili's question but with his eyes now locked on her father.
Sev's upper lip curled in annoyance, "Professor Dumbledore requested that I resolve your... situation... yes, Potter. I suppose it's too much to ask that you be grateful."
"Probably." Harry sassed, "After all, I didn't exactly beg them to take me to your house, Snape."
The temperature dropped chillingly, and Lili found herself shifting closer to Harry out of some strange protective instinct.
"You will call me 'Professor' or 'Sir', you ungrateful brat."
"Sev—," Lili cut in warningly.
Her father talked over her, "Am I understood?"
"Yes," Harry bit out, "Sir."
"You shall treat me with respect, regardless of where we are — at Hogwarts or my home. And for your information, I am no happier about this turn of events than you are, Potter," her father sneered nastily, "Now. Do you care to explain what led to our misfortune of being forced to house and feed you for the next three weeks?"
A grumbled, "I overinflated my aunt."
Lili covered her mouth to bury a laugh. Unsuccessfully, if Harry's smirk was any indication. A frighteningly pleased expression bloomed across Sev's face, one that felt extremely and utterly nefarious. Lili was both fascinated and terrified by it.
"Potter, are you telling us that... you — ballooned — Petunia?"
Lili arched a brow, unsure who was more interesting to look at right now. Because, curiously, Harry looked almost disappointed by Sev's question, like he regretted his answer.
"No," yea, it was definitely regret, Lili thought, as his shoulders slumped and he muttered, "It—It was my aunt Marge, Uncle Vernon's sister."
And yet — even more curiously — Sev, too, looked disappointed for a brief moment before his emotions fell back behind an impassive mask. Interesting...
"Wait, Petunia?" Harry frowned, eyes narrowing in suspicion, "How do you know my aunt?"
Now, that was a good question. Lili was just as fascinated to know. Crossing her arms, she swiveled to look pointedly at her father.
Sev simply sneered.
"Mister Potter." Her father's tone was frigid enough to give everyone a chill. "You shall stay in the study, through that shelf. I've Transfigured you a cot and nothing more. If it's not up to your exacting standards, I'm sure you can take your complaints to the Headmaster..." He stopped and smirked, "Once the term begins, in three weeks."
Lili rolled her eyes in obvious annoyance, turning to her friend, "I'll show you. The study's cluttered but quite nice."
Sev glowered briefly in her direction before turning back to Harry, "You will go to sleep immediately, as you surely must be exhausted from your 'adventures' of stupidly running away from home and gallivanting round London all night long."
"You're giving bedtimes?" Lili and Harry asked as one.
Both kids were appropriately incredulous. After all, Lili didn't think she'd ever been given a bedtime, not once in her life. Yes, she wasn't to wander round the house at night but she wasn't forced to go to sleep at any particular time. This was... weird.
"Tell me, Potter, are you or are you not an irresponsible twelve year old who clearly cannot look after himself?"
"I'm thirteen," Harry mumbled irritatedly, clearly wanting to say much more than that.
"Oh, you're thirteen. Well then, you'll have to excuse me," Sev sneered bitterly, "For I do not have your birthday seared into my memory, as I'm sure all the loyal subscribers of The Daily Prophet certainly do."
Lili narrowed her eyes. Sev knew when Harry's birthday was, everybody in wizarding Britain did — The Boy Who Lived was born on July 31st. Besides, if Lili was thirteen (and her birthday was in August), then obviously Harry must be thirteen as well. Sev was purposefully antagonising the Potter boy.
Harry's cheeks had turned bright pink.
"If we are going to survive this summer, Potter, we shall need to set some ground rules. First, it should go without saying that you'll not breathe a word about — this — house — to anyone, and yet I will say it, because I seriously doubt you can be trusted not to gloat about your exciting summer adventures the minute you return to your adoring fans in Gryffindor House."
Harry's fists clenched on either side of him.
Lili heaved a sigh. Off to a great start, gentlemen.
With a dark gleam in his eye, her father continued, "Second, you will not exercise any of your Gryffindor nonsense in this house. You will not cause mischief, you will not talk back, you will not touch anything that does — not — belong — to you. The house is warded securely so do not even think about running away. Again. You will also have a curfew. If you are not out from under foot by midnight, if I hear so much as a sigh from you after 12:00 AM, you will wish you'd never been born."
Lili cringed. Harry, for his part, looked nonplussed.
"My personal lab and my bedroom are strictly off limits, if you do not wish to a lose your wand hand," and then, like an afterthought, her father sharply added, "As is Lilium's bedroom."
The two kids exchanged a confused look before their eyes widened in shock at the implication.
"Sev, what the—?" Lili choked just as Harry exclaimed, "That's not—!"
"Just follow the rules," Sev growled fiercely, "And we shall have no trouble, Potter."
With that, her father smoothly and furiously swept away. It was considerably less intimidating when he was lacking the heavy black teaching robes. In the wake of his departure, Lili and Harry refused to so much as glance at one another — both their faces still burning. But as soon as Sev was safely out of earshot, she bit her lip, peeked through her fringe, and found Harry doing just the same.
"So..." Lili began awkwardly, "How did it feel blowing up your aunt?"
Harry peeked at her, and soon they were both snorting.
"Good," he laughed, grinning wide, "It felt so bloody good."
Laughing too, she crossed her arms and said, "At least it was worth it, then. What was your big plan?"
"I was going to stay above the Leaky Cauldron, spend the rest of the summer in Diagon Alley, doing whatever I wanted."
"Grand," she said gamely, "Let's run away and do that someday, okay?"
"Deal," he replied with a smile, "At least we're together."
"Yes. Together."
Lili gave Harry the grand tour of Spinner's End.
The girl felt stupidly awkward with her friend (who was a boy) in their home, cheeks permanently burnt pink as they walked round the old house. Together, they lugged his clunky trunk through the house along with Hedwig the snowy owl's cage and the backpack he'd stuffed a few other spare possessions. Harry was fascinated by the sitting room and all of its secret entrances, working hard to memorise which tomes would lead to what.
Harry didn't turn his nose up at their meager kitchen, and he was in awe of their garden which made Lili preen a bit. She showed him her bedroom, even if they didn't cross the threshold (because Sev was being so d—mn weird). Like seriously, she was thirteen; why would she even want to have a boy anywhere near her bedroom? Yuck!
Finally, Lili delivered him to the study where he would (apparently) be sleeping. Sev tended to be exacting and strict with most things, especially in their chambers whether it was at Hogwarts or here at Spinner's End. But of course, there were always exceptions. Their bookshelves, everywhere, were overflowing with stacks of books covering the wooden floor in shaky piles. There was, indeed, a cot with sheets and blankets in the corner as if Sev had known that Harry was coming. Why he hadn't bothered to tell her, she was too annoyed to wonder.
"It's... It's not much," Lili stuttered, impossibly nervous.
"It's brilliant," Harry told her, and he meant it.
ϟ
Lili went straight to the lab.
With Harry settled (and now following a restrictive bedtime — ugh), the Snape girl knocked on the door, didn't bother waiting for the usual response, and then slipped down into the cellar. Her father was in his usual spot behind a cauldron, hair covering half his face so she couldn't be sure if he glanced at her. Though, she was sure that he knew she was marching close. He was far too observant to miss that.
She waved a few—fingered hand in front of her face and coughed quietly as she stepped further into his hazy lab. The air was thick with mist and smoke, and lines of cauldrons surrounded them, each set at either simmering or stasis. Ingredients filled the rest of the table, organised neatly, some chopped or minced or crushed. She paused at the end of his work table, index fingers trailing the ledge, working out the thoughts in her head.
She'd not even said a word before her father launched in his tirade, smirking bitterly.
"Typical Potter behavior. No doubt the boy's father would have been proud, likely cheering from beyond the grave right now."
The question came unbidden, "Is that why you hate him — because of his father?"
Sev slammed down his jar of yellow—green Bubotuber pus, onyx eyes blazing fiercely into hers. Lili prepared herself for his rage, for his shouting and cursing and everything she'd been waiting for in the past few months. And yet none of it came. He did not speak, not for a long time. Finally:
"What — do you want — from me?"
Lili didn't answer, not right away. She couldn't just rush into this; bull—headed and blunt was the Gryffindor way. Slytherins were much too cunning for that. They liked the game, the chase for information, the give—and—take, the misdirections and obfuscations and half—answers. It also did not escape her notice that he did not answer her question (something to remember later).
"His relatives, you know, I think they treat him badly."
Sev's eyes narrowed at her, as if waiting for a punchline, as if seeking evidence that she'd been Imperiused. But there was nothing. He could only possibly see the genuine concern and frustration dancing within the blackness of her irises. He didn't believe her.
As it was, her father simply replied with indifference, "Perhaps he ought to have considered the consequences before attacking his aunt."
"Sev—,"
He gave her a dismissive wave of the hand, back to focusing on his Healing Potion, "If you've come to ask me to treat him more favourably than at Hogwarts, you are bound to be disappointed."
"Can you just..." She huffed a sharp breath, briefly squeezed her eyes shut and then, in a stiff voice, requested, "Can you try with Harry these next few weeks?"
Her father sneered, but she didn't give him the chance to go on, not this time.
"I... I know things have been—, and we've not... That is to say," she hated stuttering like this, unable to formulate her sentences like any other sane person (then again, when had she ever been considered 'sane'?).
"Is this leading to an actual point, Lilium?"
Lili clenched her jaw, narrowed her eyes, and glanced up to see he was doing the exact same thing. Fathers and daughters, a quiet voice whispered inside her. She violently told that voice to shut up and where it could go if it didn't. She took a breath, this time organising her thoughts before she spoke again.
"Sev. Harry... matters to me."
He looked thoroughly uncomfortable. She could relate.
But, like a Gryffindor, she forged ahead as bravely as she could, "I want... need... you to make an effort."
The father and daughter's silence was a dangerous one. So much had happened between them; this was perhaps the longest conversation they'd had all summer and it was strained and awkward, tenuous at best. Then, finally, finally, Severus Snape agreed:
"Then, I will... make an effort."
ϟ
Hours later, Severus walked up from his lab to find Potter in the kitchen, bold as brass, walking round like he owned the bloody place. The brat was leaning over the sink, mouth near the faucet, fingers on the cool handle. Severus opened his mouth to snarl before remembering his assurance to Lilium. D—mn it to hell.
Though, apparently, Severus hadn't managed to totally cut off his snarl because Potter suddenly recoiled from the sink. The boy had backed up as soon as he noticed his detested professor's arrival, stiffening while his shoulders rolled back and his jaw set. His young, defiant face transformed fully into James Potter. Severus badly wanted to slap it off him. As it was, it took everything within him not to sneer.
Keep the peace, it was an annoying mantra in his head, Keep the peace, keep the peace.
"I was just trying to get a sip of water," the brat blurted in defence, even as his chin raised in defiance, "I couldn't find the bathroom, but I'll go back to the study now, so don't bother giving me a lecture, all right?"
Peace with a Potter, Severus thought bitterly, My Half—Blooded arse.
"Potter," he tried to speak evenly, "I think you and I are in dire need of a frank conversation."
"If you say so, sir."
Cheeky brat.
"Sit," it was not an invitation.
Reluctantly, the boy sat. After a moment, Severus forced himself to do just the same. On opposite ends of the derelict table of his parents' ugly house in the Midlands, Snape and Potter eyed each other like old enemies trying to come to a truce. Or perhaps, a brief ceasefire, a temporary suspension of hostilities.
With a bad taste in his mouth, he determined, "I believe it would benefit us all if we, as they say, 'clear the air'."
"Fine," Potter growled.
Severus' eyes narrowed, "I do not care for the attitude."
"Fine, sir."
"Good enough." He tapped his fingers against the scratched wooden surface, providing himself with a moment to take the brat in. Then, with a cruel twist of his upper lip, he drawled, "You hate me, don't you, Potter?"
Potter paused in his seat, a slight flush rising in his cheeks. He looked as though he had been caught in something obvious and yet felt strangely embarrassed about it. Ah, Severus smirked when the boy seemed to realise, what was the point in lying?
"You've... not exactly been my favourite professor. Sir."
"I'd expect not." Severus smirked strangely, threateningly. "Thus it should not come as a surprise to you, that you've not exactly been my favourite student. Potter."
The brat snorted and stared at his professor for a moment. Finally, he narrowed his eyes slightly and muttered, "Yet here we are."
"Here we are... For her."
For which Lili/Lily, even Severus couldn't be sure.
He went on either way, "It is the Headmaster's request that for the next three weeks, I ensure you stay alive and out of trouble. And for Lilium, we must tolerate one another's presence... Neither of us have to enjoy it."
"Good," Potter muttered. "Because I won't."
Severus simply arched a brow but said nothing for a moment. Then: "For reasons I cannot — and will not ever — comprehend, my child is... fond... of you," the disgust was clear in his voice, and he didn't bother to hide it. "For this reason alone, I will endeavour not to criticise what I'm sure will be a plethora of addled—minded moments this summer."
Immediately, Potter snapped back, "And I'll endeavour not to point out what a right git you can be."
"Do not presume to talk back to me, Potter." Temperature rising, Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously, "If you think I won't take points simply because it is summer, you are sorely mistaken. I've always wanted to start the year with Gryffindor House points in the negative. Do not tempt me."
Potter's mouth clamped shut with an audible clack of his teeth. Good.
Severus took in a slow, measured breath to keep his temper back under control. Keep the peace, keep the peace... His fingers continued tapping out an even rhythm on the tabletop as he contemplated the boy until he couldn't stand to look at him anymore.
"The cups are on the top cabinet on the right. Get it and get out of my sight, Potter. It is late and I refuse to speak with you any longer."
Potter scowled, but the brat ignored the harsh words as he collected his water and left the kitchen entirely. Finally, blessed silence. Keep the peace, what a f—cking laugh. With a bitter scowl, Severus trudged through to the backyard, shook out his almost empty pack of cigs, and got lost staring at the wall as a cigarette burnt between his potion—stained fingers.
This was going to be one hell of a summer.
annie speaks
ϟ
OOOO SUMMER WITH SNAPE AND HARRY, LET'S GOOOOOO
funny thingamabob time:
i have been dying to finally use this meme, i'm so happy