Chapter Text
“Are you sure that’s what he said?”
Harry nodded.
Ron still looked skeptical as he looked away from Harry’s notebook. His eyebrows drew together, and he paused midway through shoving a pile of grey sweaters into his already overstuffed bag. “Well… you can’t break an Unbreakable Vow.”
Harry rolled his eyes. He had managed to work that bit out for himself.
“No, seriously!” Ron insisted, dropping the sweaters and straightening up, his expression turning oddly grave. “If you do, you die.” He grimaced, as though the thought alone made his insides twist. “And you’re sure Snape said he swore to protect Malfoy? He wasn’t just swearing to… I don’t know - get him out of a detention or help him with schoolwork?”
Harry nodded again. From where he sat crossed-legged on his bed, he could see clearly that Ron had momentarily stopped stuffing clothes into his travel bag and seemed to be thinking.
“Blimey,” he muttered at last. Then, with a faint shiver he added, “I mean… that’s serious magic, Harry.”
Ron blinked and rubbed a hand down his face. “Look, Harry… if this is true - and I’m not saying I don’t believe you - it means Malfoy’s in deep trouble with whatever he’s up to.”
“I’m always checking the Map to see if he’s doing anything suspicious, or if he’s bringing anyone in, but he’s always alone. And still disappearing in the evenings,” Harry wrote.
Ron leaned over to read, brow furrowing. “Maybe Snape’s been covering for him when he disappears?” Ron suggested. “Like that’s what he swore to protect, if any of the Slytherins ask where Malfoy went, Snape just gives them some excuse that Malfoy is doing something for him?”
Harry considered that. It was a possibility… But based on Snape’s fury with Draco the previous night, it seemed more like whatever Draco was up to, he wasn’t involving Snape in it. And Snape seemed to think it would be better if Malfoy let him help.
Harry offered a half-hearted shrug to Ron.
Ron sniffed some more of his clothes, made a face, then shoved them in his bag. “Mum said she’ll wash ‘em when I get home,” he muttered.
“Oh, and that reminds me,” Ron said suddenly, “she said to ask you one more time - are you sure you want to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays? Mum wrote and said Lupin and Tonks are coming for Christmas, and maybe Kingsley and Mundungus as well, so the more the merrier. I know things won't be the same as previous years at Grimmauld but well… you’re always welcome at ours, Harry,” he finished quietly.
Harry looked away, feeling a familiar ache rise in his chest. He appreciated what Ron - and Mrs. Weasley - were trying to do. But his answer hadn’t changed since he had turned Ron down the first time he asked Harry to come home with him for the holidays. It didn’t feel right this year. He didn't want to be surrounded by a big happy family during the most joyful time of the year, because it would only serve to remind him of what he had lost. And how Sirius’s death was all his fault.
And besides - without Sirius there, Harry would feel like the lone interloper on the Weasleys’ Christmas. Remus and Tonks had each other, the Weasleys had each other, and that just left Harry as the odd man out.
“Thanks mate, I appreciate it, really. But I really just want to stay here. After everything, I don’t feel like I can do a big celebration this year,” Harry wrote.
Ron read Harry’s writing then exhaled through his nose. “Well if you change your mind,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “just write to us and let us know if you want to pop by, yeah?”
Harry nodded in agreement to appease Ron, even though he doubted he would be changing his mind.
Ron’s shoulders relaxed and as he resumed his packing he decided to change the subject.
“Right, well, you still need to fill me in on the rest of what happened at Old Sluggy’s party,” Ron said, a grin creeping onto his face as the subject shifted. “Did Cormac really puke all over Professor Vector?”
Harry snorted, thinking back at the scene Cormac had caused during the party. He nodded, much to Ron’s delight.
“I heard he got two weeks of detention in the new year for that!” Ron continued gleefully.
*****
Eventually Ron, their dormmates, and the rest of the rest of the castle had departed for the holidays. Harry had to dodge more requests from Hermione and Ginny as well to join them both for a few days over the break, but he turned them down with the same line he gave Ron. It just didn’t feel right. If anything, he felt more certain each day that solitude was the only place he deserved to be.
This might’ve been the first Christmas Harry spent at Hogwarts that he didn’t leap out of his bed and run down to the Common Room to find his presents, and tear into them. He already knew pretty much who he was expecting gifts from, so no surprises there. And without Ron to wake him up at first light to get to their presents, Harry relished in the peace and quiet in his empty dorm for a bit before he decided to see his gifts.
He’d already sent off his own gifts earlier in the week by owl post - Ron’s new set of Quidditch gloves, Hermione’s book on defensive enchantments she’d been eyeing, a double pack of Holyhead Harpies trading cards for Ginny, and a set of fuzzy socks for Remus. Even if he wasn’t spending the holidays with his friends, he didn’t want them to think he had forgotten about them.
In the Common Room he recognized handwriting on presents from his three friends and Remus, as well as two parcels signed from Mr. and Mrs Weasley. He opened those first, finding a maroon “H” sweater in one box and a tin of cheesy buns - that were still warm - and fruitcake in the other one. He smiled at the “Love from Arthur and Molly” signature, thinking how lucky he was that the Weasleys still sent him a Christmas present even though he refused their offers to spend Christmas with them.
Harry opened the rest of his his presents which included a sleek black quill with two pots of blue and black ink from Hermione, a deep maroon scarf from Ginny, new slippers from Ron (he must’ve noticed how ragged Harry’s had gotten), and a box of Christmas chocolates from Remus. The note from Remus taped to the box of chocolates sent a pang through Harry’s chest: Thought you might enjoy a little extra sweetness this year. A gesture that he knew Remus meant well with, though the note just served to remind him of painful memories.
Harry brought his haul up to his dorm and spread everything out to admire his gifts. He penned a quick thank-you note to Mr. and Mrs Weasley for his presents and wished them a happy rest of their holidays. He thought about mentioning that he would try to come visit them before the new year, but didn’t want to promise that in writing. After the letter was sealed and ready to send off, he decided to make the trip up to the Owlery to post his note before breakfast.
The trek up the long spiral staircase to the Owlery was cold enough that he could see his breath, and Harry felt a surge of gratitude towards Ginny for her gift of his new, warm scarf, which he had put on before he left.
He was greeted by the familiar smell of feathers and straw as he pushed open the Owlery door. Hedwig spotted him in an instant, swooping down from her perch to land on his shoulder and immediately nudge her head against his cheek. He leaned towards her carefully to rub his head gently against her body.
Harry took a seat on the steps and began stroking Hedwig’s feathers. “H-hey g-g-g-irl,” Harry stammered softly. Hedwig’s wings perked up when she heard noise coming from Harry’s mouth and she hooted happily in response. If Harry didn’t know any better, he would say Hedwig’s head turned so her eyes could dart over Harry’s face, studying him and trying to gauge Harry’s emotional state after he just spoke. Though it wouldn’t surprise him, owls were very intelligent creatures - Hedwig especially - and Hedwig always seemed very in tune with Harry’s emotions.
Harry laughed quietly, then pulled out an owl treat from his pocket and held it out to her. Hedwig hooted gratefully then eagerly accepted. She munched on it happily as Harry ran his hands through her soft feathers over and over.
“I’m t-t-trying, g-g-gi… girl,” Harry finally got out. He didn’t need to elaborate. Hedwig had just heard him talk - even though it was with stuttering - for the first time in months, so she had to know something was different with Harry.
But Hedwig offered no judgement - no pointed glares or angry hoots - on his stuttering, she simply remained perched on his shoulder, nuzzling warmly against Harry’s cheek as Harry continued stroking her. The familiar motion and Hedwig’s presence were just what Harry needed. They remained situated like that until the chill of the Owlery got to Harry and he decided he should head back down.
Rising to his feet, Harry fished the letter out of his pocket and held it out to Hedwig. He pointed at the name - Mr. and Mrs Weasley felt too difficult to say out loud right now - and Hedwig nodded that she understood, so he tied the letter to her leg.
Hedwig nudged Harry’s face once more - a fond, lingering touch - then spread her wings and took off.
*****
Once he had sent Hedwig on her way to the Weasleys, Harry began his descent to the Great Hall for breakfast with the teachers and the small number of other students who were staying there over the holidays. The Head Table was still set up, so Harry assumed Dumbledore only intended to have everyone in the castle eat at one table for Christmas dinner.
Harry glanced down the Head Table until he saw Snape, who was cradling a cup of coffee in one hand, the other casually resting on the table as he listened to whatever Professor Sprout was discussing with him.
An odd train of thought suddenly struck Harry: he found himself wondering what Snape actually did during the holidays outside of his duties as a professor and Head of Slytherin. Did he spend Christmas the same way every year, sitting at the Head Table while the castle emptied out around him? Did he enjoy the quiet, the lack of students, the freedom to exist without constant interruptions and minding students? Or did he resent being stuck at Hogwarts because of his job, unable to go anywhere else for the holidays?
The thought seemed to stick in Harry’s head. Harry couldn’t imagine Snape unwrapping presents, or sitting by a fire, or doing anything remotely festive. Yet… his professor was still human underneath it all. Maybe he did give and receive presents of his own. Harry assumed the Hogwarts staff had some sort of Christmas party of their own, so Snape must have had some sort of holiday celebration, even if it was just with his coworkers.
As he walked toward the student table, Harry took a seat next to some of the younger students who were staying over break, and tried to offer them a jolly smile as they all wished him happy Christmas. Many of the students seemed to be wearing some of their Christmas gifts at breakfast, an obviously brand new sweater here, a clean scarf here, ribbons in the hair of some of the girls. Harry noticed a younger Ravenclaw boy who was wearing a Chudley Cannons sweatshirt under his robe, so he pointed at the boy’s sweatshirt and gave it a grin and thumbs up, which made the boy beam enthusiastically and said, “Nice isn’t it? Got it from my parents this morning. Every Christmas morning we would watch a Quidditch game today in our Chudley Cannons gear, and this makes it kinda feel like they’re with me too. They’re away on business in South America you see, which is why I had to stay here this Christmas.”
Harry nodded lightly in response, even though he felt his jaw getting tight about hearing about the younger boy’s previous Christmases with his parents. The jealousy was blooming in his chest, but he tried to squash it down as he busied himself putting pancakes, butter, syrup, and fruit on his plate so he didn’t have to make eye contact or engage with any of the other students.
But as much as he tried to stay focused on his meal, he couldn’t help the angry thoughts from coursing through his head. A flurry of emotions had hit him out of nowhere, causing his throat to tighten. He was angry at his parents for dying, for leaving him alone in a world that never seemed to stop taking. Angry at the Dursleys for every miserable Christmas he had to spend with them, hoping against hope to receive presents, only to be disappointed every single year. Angry at Sirius… and angry at himself most of all.
But beneath all that anger was something quieter, that nagging voice in the back of his head that hadn’t left him since that horrible night at the Ministry.
It’s all your fault.
Because as much as he wanted to blame everyone else, he couldn’t outrun the truth that was eating at him. Sirius had followed him. His recklessness and stupidity at believing the - what he should’ve realized was an obviously fake - vision.
His Christmas mood now dampened, Harry pushed his food around his plate, only occasionally bringing a forkful of pancake up to his mouth. He really didn’t have much of an appetite anymore, but he owed it to himself - and Snape - to always have food in his stomach, just in case the man would trust him again to take full doses of potions anytime in the future.
After forcing a smile and waving bye to the rest of the students sitting at the table, Harry made the trek to climb up to the window seat he liked. Each day of the winter holidays, Harry felt himself spending more and more time up there, just sitting and staring out the window. He had intended to go into the holidays using his time productively on schoolwork and speaking, but well… it also felt good to just stare. To do nothing. In his quiet solitude he would watch the snow fall, the smoke of the castle rise, and look out into the Forest to see if an animal would run by. It felt good to turn his brain off; to not have to think about school-stuff, or speaking-stuff, or Christmas-y-stuff. Especially because if he was spending time staring out the window looking at the snow, he wasn’t looking at the cheery Christmas decorations in the Common Room, or the Great Hall, or all throughout the castle that reminded him of how happy Sirius was last year to decorate Grimmauld Place for him.
Harry spent most of the morning there, broke for lunch, then headed back to the window seat to catch some afternoon sun before retreating back to the Tower. He only meant to sit there for an hour, or two, but the sun just felt so warm, it made him feel so relaxed he had completely lost track of time. That is, until one voice in particular broke through to him.
“Hello, Mr. Potter,” Snape greeted him very suddenly.
Harry turned his body away from the window and gave his professor a small smile and nod of acknowledgement, mildly surprised that Snape had approached him. His professor was standing there studying him, with his arms crossed.
“I’ve noticed you’ve been spending lots of time in this window seat over the break.”
Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. Snape has been keeping tabs on him over the holiday break? He didn’t know that.
Harry shrugged. There wasn’t much else to do around an empty castle and Snape had to know that.
“A verbal response if you would try,” Snape pressed.
Harry glared at the man and crossed his arms.
Snape only stared right back at Harry, not letting up. And seeing as how he had Harry cornered in the window seat right now, this was not a staring match Harry could win.
Harry let out a deep sigh before straightening his back and clearing his throat.
“Duh-don-don’t wah, wanna.” Harry spat out, feeling his cheeks flush as the words stumbled out.
“And why not?”
Harry stared at the buttons on Snape’s coat and shrugged again which prompted Snape to sigh. ‘Don’t feel like it,’ Harry mouthed. Why couldn’t Snape pick up that he just didn’t feel like talking to him - and really talking at all? It was Christmas, for God’s sake, he just wanted to be alone and wallow.
There was a small exhale of air from Snape, and then the man - shockingly - decided to change the subject. “I must admit I am surprised you did not wish to spend the holidays with the Weasleys or with Lupin.”
Harry shrugged again, but when he looked back at Snape the man had his eyebrows slightly raised showing he was expecting more of an answer than that.
Harry started to pull his wand out of his pocket and looked around for something to transfigure when suddenly there was a small notebook and quill held out to him.
“Here, Potter. I had a feeling I would find you here and came prepared.”
Harry accepted them and gave a nod of thanks. He tried not to think about how it made him feel that Snape had approached with a notebook and quill ready for him.
“Just didn’t feel like spending time with my friends or Lupin over break,” Harry wrote.
“Hmm,” Snape said thoughtfully. “And why might that be?”
Harry closed his eyes and rubbed his eyebrows with his fingers as he sighed. Why was Snape being so nosy? Maybe if he brought up what he was actually feeling Snape would get spooked and leave him be.
“Holidays make me think of Sirius. Especially Christmas as I spent the last one with him. Doesn’t feel right to celebrate this year without him.”
As Harry pushed the notebook into Snape’s hand he pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands and rested them against his knees.
While Snape read what Harry just wrote, his face revealed nothing, keeping the same expression in place he had when he finished reading Harry’s message as he did when he started.
“Mr. Potter, it won’t do you any good to dwell on your grief so deeply you forget to live,” Snape said quietly, and even though the words themselves sounded harsh, Snape’s tone surprisingly was anything but.
“You godfather is no longer with you. But you will hopefully have a long life, filled with other Christmases, and holidays, and birthdays, and other celebrations and things that make you think of him. And it will be hard to keep moving forward knowing he is not there to experience them with you. But that is part of life. People come into our lives for indefinite periods of time, and once they’re gone, you simply have to keep going with their memory.”
Harry looked at Snape, attempting to find any sarcasm or sneer in his expression that would give his words a twist, but he didn’t find any. He just found his professor studying him back as well.
Not really sure what to say to the man, Harry gave him a sharp nod, then turned his body back towards the window, hoping Snape would get the hint and leave him be.
No such chance. “I do think you’ve spent enough of the Christmas holidays brooding by yourself, Potter. Up, up, I can think of a more productive way that you can be using your time,” Snape ordered, and with a wave of his hands beckoned Harry up.
Harry only moved his head to look at Snape and raise his eyebrows to ask ‘Are you serious?’ to which Snape raised a single eyebrow back to say ‘Very’.
As Snape crossed his arms and stared at him, Harry realized the man wasn’t going to budge on this. And given that it was the Christmas holidays and Harry literally didn’t have anywhere to be, he didn’t have a single reasonable excuse to get out of whatever Snape was going to do.
He hoped the professor wasn’t planning an Occlumency lesson to ‘brighten his day’. They had taken a pause from those over the holidays, and recently Harry’s mind was too overflowing with emotion these days with nothing to deal with but his own thoughts.
Harry shuffled out of the window seat and jumped down, adjusting his hoodie back in place.
Snape instantly began walking as soon as Harry’s feet hit the floor, only looking back once to crook a long finger at him with a “Come, Potter,” expecting Harry to fall in line.
As Harry followed Snape, he tried to flip to a new page in the notebook Snape gave him to write “Where are we going?”, but Snape’s pace was too quick that when Harry tried to write, his quill just squiggled on the page. Giving up on trying to write, he quickened his pace to match Snape’s until he was walking side-by-side with the man. He kept turning his head while he walked, attempting to catch the older man’s eye so he could fold his eyebrows together in confusion to ask where they were going, but Snape was deliberately not meeting Harry’s attempts to catch his eye.
Harry eventually gave up on this attempt, and fell in step with Snape on the rest of the walk. After many stairs down, and a route Harry had become quite familiar with, they arrived upon the dungeons and Snape’s office. Snape used his wand to unlock the door, then ushered Harry inside. Harry took his usual seat and began writing as Snape closed the door and went to the front of the room.
“I thought you said no Occlumency during the holidays, sir?” Harry wrote, then showed it to Snape.
“So I did,” Snape replied evenly. “As it would happen, I did not bring you down here for an Occlumency lesson.”
Harry scratched his head as he gave Snape a confused look.
Snape waved his wand and the countertop to Harry’s right that was previously filled with papers, books, and empty vials cleared instantly. In another flick of his wand a cauldron appeared with jars of ingredients spread around it.
“You will brew the potion on the board,” Snape flicked his wand and the recipe appeared on the board, “and once I deem it satisfactory you may leave.”
Now Harry was thoroughly confused. Why had Snape pried him out of his solitude in his sunny window seat to brew with him in the dingy dungeons? How was brewing in the dungeons with Snape supposed to be a better alternative to how he was already spending his holiday?
Or was this Snape punishing him for something? Harry wracked his brain but he couldn’t think what it would be for. He hadn’t gotten into any trouble over the break, he had been showing up to all three meals with the other remaining students and had smiled a decent amount of times at them to reassure everyone he was fine before eating in silence. He hadn’t crept anywhere he wasn’t supposed to be either, opting to stay in the Tower, or drifting to the sunny window seat when he needed to get a walk in.
“Potter I can see the wheels in your head turning. Why do you think I brought you down here?”
Harry gave a half-hearted shrug and looked up to see Snape staring at him with his arms crossed, waiting. So then he wrote: “I really don’t know, sir. Punishment for staying in the castle over break?”
Snape made a clucking sound of disapproval. “Just because I am giving you something to do with your time rather than allow you to stare out a window for hours on end does not mean it is a punishment. You are in dire need of a distraction, and brewing is an excellent way to keep your mind occupied.”
Harry crossed his arms to glare at Snape, to which Snape only stared unflinchingly back at him. After a few beats, Snape sat down at his desk calmly and pointed behind him. “Instructions are on the board. By the time you’ve completed it you should be able to tell me the name and use of the potion you just brewed,” Snape finished with a smirk.
Harry could only stare at his professor. Snape had brought him down here to brew? What about all that had happened between them since their last Occlumency lesson? Harry had only just been able to tell Snape at Slughorn’s Christmas party why he had passed out when he took the potion, then Snape had had to come to Malfoy’s rescue before they could discuss it further.
Didn’t Snape want to talk about the Revitalizing Draught? The man knew now that there weren’t any issues with the potion he had made for Harry. All that shame and guilt Dumbledore had alluded to Snape feeling had been unwarranted and unnecessary. And despite himself, Harry felt bad for making Snape feel those things on his behalf.
Feeling Harry’s eyes on him Snape put down his quill and turned to match Harry’s gaze with a sigh. “Potter… I think it’s best we do our best to move past the incident with the Revitalizing Draught. You are up and awake now, and will not allow such carelessness to happen again.” He straightened his shoulders. “And I will not make the mistake of offering a student an experimental potion ever again.”
Harry frowned. He told Snape and Dumbledore that the potion wasn’t the problem, it was the fact that he had ingested it on an empty stomach. But Snape still felt guilt and regret about what had happened. Even though Harry felt there was still so much more that needed to be said, he supposed if Snape wanted to move on, he should try to as well.
Harry sighed and squinted at the board. The chalkboard in Snape’s office was a lot smaller than the one professors used in class, and Snape’s spidery handwriting caused all his letters to loop together. Was that a pound or a pour of African sea salt? Or two drops or three drops of viper venom? It could be two if Snape wrote the ‘2’ very long and loopy, or it could be three if Snape smushed his writing together. Harry scratched his head. He didn’t want to lean over Snape’s desk to get a better look, so he kept squinting, hoping that the smaller he made his eyes the clearer the ingredients would become.
He was only interrupted when Snape asked snidely, “Are you having some sort of fit, Potter? Why are you making that face?”
Harry widened his eyes and blinked to smooth out his features, hoping his expression was normal now. He pointed at the board then held up his thumb and pointer finger to make the gesture for “small”, to tell Snape that the writing on the board was too small for him.
Snape craned his head to study what was on the board. “Hmm. I suppose I could have made the words a bit bigger,” Snape muttered, mostly to himself, as he waved his wand, making the words expand to take up more of the space on the board.
Snape turned his attention back to Harry who was still squinting at the board, albeit less drastically than he had been previously.
“Why are you still making that face?” Snape questioned. “I just made the instructions bigger, surely you can see them by now.”
As Harry blinked and shrugged, he saw Snape moving from his desk to stand next to Harry, to judge for himself.
“I can see everything written quite clearly from here. Why can you not?” Snape asked sharply as he turned back to watch Harry shrug again.
“Look right at me,” Snape commanded as he turned his attention to Harry’s eyes, seemingly searching them as if he were some sort of magic optometrist and could spot an issue in Harry’s eyeballs just by looking at them. He held eye contact with Harry, and for a second Harry was nervous the professor was going to slip inside his mind - even though he had said he wasn’t planning to over break - but he never felt the touch of the older man’s mind inside of his. Once Snape finished studying Harry’s eyes and seemingly finding nothing amiss, he still was staring closely at Harry, and for some reason was studying the space above his nose quite intently.
“Let me see your glasses,” Snape ordered.
Reluctantly, Harry handed them over and had to blink a couple of times to resist the urge to make a squinting face at Snape.
Although Snape was blurry, Harry could see the man inspecting the arms, then the frames themselves before looking at the board himself and holding Harry’s glasses in front of his face while he was looking at the board. While Snape was doing this, Harry kept shifting his weight on his feet, not sure what else he was supposed to do when he couldn’t see.
Then Snape handed Harry’s glasses back to him, and as Harry replaced them on his face, he could see his professor’s puzzled face a bit more clearly.
“The prescription in those is shockingly low. Approximately the prescription a young child would get the first time they see an eye doctor for trouble seeing the board. If you can’t see the board with them even after I made the text bigger these glasses aren’t doing you any good. When was the last time you got a new pair?”
Not wanting to say but knowing that Snape would weedle it out of him anyways, Harry wrote, “Couple years I think.”
“A couple of years?” Snape responded in disbelief. “Why haven’t you gone in to get them updated?
Harry bit his lip. As if his aunt and uncle were the type to see to it that he had regular optometrist appointments to have glasses with the most up to date prescription. He was lucky he even had glasses. The Dursleys had only begrudgingly taken him to get his eyes examined after a primary school teacher had called home enough about his vision that they simply couldn’t ignore it any longer. Yes his glasses were old, and small, and very cheap, but at least Harry had glasses, a small measure to be thankful for.
“Cause these work fine, I can still see pretty well with them if I squint. And then if they snap or the lens gets dirty Hermione is really good about fixing them. I don’t need a new pair when these make do,” Harry wrote.
“Proper glasses should allow one to be able to see things without the need for squinting, Mr. Potter. The instructions on the board have been expanded to be written quite largely on a board only a few feet away, and yet you still need to squint!” Snape said incredulously. “And you didn’t think this was a problem?”
Harry shrugged weakly as he shrunk back to press his body against the counter, feeling a bit embarrassed that in addition to being mute, Snape was seemingly saying that he was blinder with his glasses than he even realized.
Snape seemed to pick up on Harry’s body language and pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a step back and murmured, “How in Merlin’s name has Poppy never caught this.”
“Let me see your glasses again,” Snape repeated as he stretched his hand out to Harry.
Harry obliged, handing them over to Snape, curious what the man was planning to do with them now.
Snape took out his wand and murmured a few enchantments over the glass part of the glasses, held them up in front of Harry’s face, but didn’t tell Harry to take them back so Harry kept his arms at his sides, fidgeting with his sleeves. While he was still holding Harry’s glasses up, Snape cast another enchantment that seemed to widen the frames of his glasses and the nosepiece, then lengthen the arms a bit. He tucked his wand away before turning the glasses over in his hands, inspecting his handiwork.
“Here, Potter, put these back on now,” Snape instructed, watching Harry’s face as he took them back.
As Harry placed the glasses back on his nose, a gasp escaped him. Everything looked so different! His wide eyes met Snape’s dark ones, and Harry took note of how much clearer he could see his professor’s face. He could see the definition in the man’s dark, bushy eyebrows, and how long his eyelashes were, and the way his lips were pinched together, as his raven-eyes were watching Harry.
With a start, Harry thought how much more intimidating Snape’s eyes were when he could see every feature of them, to his iris, his eyelashes, and how they were studying Harry.
Harry had to look away, marveling at how much sharper the ingredients on the counter now looked before being taken aback when he looked at the board. He could see every word, crystal clear. He gaped and widened his eyes as he pointed at the board, then made eye contact with Snape.
“What did you do to my glasses, professor? I can see everything no problem!” Harry wrote.
“I cast a charm on them to be self-adjusting, so they are no longer the outdated prescription.” At Harry’s frown at the word self-adjusting Snape elaborated. “Self-adjusting means that the enchantment on the glass allows whoever is looking out of them to be able to see clearly. For instance if I were to put on your glasses, the glasses would adjust to a prescription of nearly nothing, as I have never had issues with my own vision before. But for you, they will adjust to ensure you can see things near and far clearly. This should allow you to see things at a distance without the need to squint and strain, which only would further damage your eyes in the long run. Then I merely extended the size of the frame to better match the size of your face, as they appeared a bit, ahem, small.”
Harry felt his cheeks heat up, realizing that Snape must’ve noticed he still wore child’s glasses and hadn’t seen an actual optometrist since before he came to Hogwarts. But the man didn’t make any snide comment on that, only fixed Harry’s glasses without questioning why he still wore glasses that were too small for him.
Snape cleared his throat, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. “You can see the instructions on the board in their entirety now, yes?” Snape asked, and when Harry nodded, Snape gestured for Harry to return to his potion as Snape turned back to his desk.
“This charm is not permanent however,” Snape said, as if remembering. “You will need to see an optometrist - a Muggle one will do though a magical one is preferred - at some point in the near future who specializes in this sort of thing.”
Harry met Snape’s eyes and nodded in agreement before getting back to his task at hand. But although he tried to focus, he couldn’t stop glancing between the board and the ingredients laid out before him in surprise. He always thought Snape’s handwriting was loopy and spidery to intentionally confuse students, but with his fixed glasses he could see every letter was actually written out and he could tell the difference between pound or pinch, two or three, or drop or dash. Snape’s writing still was spidery - but now Harry realized it was just a slightly cursive script the professor used. One that was now perfectly legible to him.
As he stared, marveling at how unnecessarily complicated he’d always assumed Snape’s handwriting to be, Harry didn’t notice the professor watching him. Snape’s dark eyes followed the shifting expressions on Harry’s face as he stared at the text on the board in fascination.
“Where do you sit in Professor Slughorn’s class?” Snape asked suddenly. “Where in the classroom?”
Harry jerked, eyes darting from the board to Snape’s face. It was such an odd question that for a moment he wondered if he’d misheard. He scrunched his face up in confusion, wondering what that had to do with anything.
“Answer the question, Potter,” Snape prodded.
Harry scratched his head and thought about where he sat in the Potions classroom. It was kind of in the middle of the Gryffindor section of the room, but more towards the front than the back.
‘Front,’ he mouthed.
“With Granger?”
Harry shook his head.
“Weasley?”
When Harry nodded in agreement Snape made a humming sound of interest.
“So I would be correct in my assumption that during the previous five years of my Potions classes, you could not properly see the board? Seeing how you and Weasley would choose to hide out in the back of the class.”
Harry felt heat crawl up his neck. He dropped his gaze to the floor and gave a small shrug, because he didn’t even need to respond; the answer was pretty obvious now. He obviously couldn’t have been able to see every little thing on the board all the way from the back of the class, which is where he sat year after year.
“That would explain,” he said, almost thoughtfully, “your tendency to misread instructions in the past.” His gaze flicked back to the board, then to Harry. “And your unfortunate habit of… improvising.”
“And yet - while apparently half blind - you didn’t blow up nearly as many cauldrons as Longbottom and Finnegan. Remarkable.”
Harry’s mouth twitched. He wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or relieved that Snape wasn’t tearing into him. Harry finally lifted his head up, expecting to see a sarcastic sneer across his professor’s face, but instead, the man seemed vaguely amused.
Snape didn’t have anything else to say on the topic, so he just got back to whatever he was doing at his desk, while Harry got back to his potion. Everything about the prep work seemed easier now that his vision was sharper and clearer. He hadn’t realized how much effort he’d been wasting on simply trying to see.
When he reached for the doxy eggs, he didn’t have to squint to count them. When he diced the shrivelfig, he didn’t have to lean dangerously close to the knife to judge the thickness of the slices. For once, he was absolutely certain he had measured out the exact amounts of iguana blood and leech juice that were needed as he could see the measuring lines without needing to bring them right up to his face.
His ingredients stayed on the cutting board instead of rolling off the edge, because he could see each one of them well enough. He even caught a stray bit of valerian sprig just before it tumbled off the table and fell to the floor, where it would have been ruined.
Harry was so focused on chopping his lavender, he just about jumped out of his skin when Snape said something from right behind him.
“Add two springs of parsley to the lavender and let it sit while you chop the other ingredients.”
Harry nearly dropped his knife as he swung around to face Snape, clutching a hand to his heart at the shock of being interrupted. Snape merely quirked an eyebrow at him.
“You need to be more aware of your surroundings, Potter,” Snape said distastefully. “Anyone could sneak up on you in a moment if you are distracted.”
Harry frowned and placed his knife down. He pointed at his ear and then at Snape, to convey that he hadn’t heard him approaching.
“And whose fault would that be, then?”
Harry flattened his lips in annoyance and cocked his head at Snape, curious why the man had interrupted him.
“Now as I was saying, add two springs of parsley into your lavender, mix it together, then let it sit while you prepare your other ingredients.”
Harry twisted his lips and scrunched his eyebrows together, trying to convey the question “why?” on his face.
“Because the peppery notes of parsley work to tone down the floral scents the lavender contributes to the potion, which strengthens the notes of herbal, meditative properties. Which will be beneficial in this potion you’re brewing, once you figure out what it is.”
Harry just stared at the man. It was Christmas break, and he was giving him a private potions lesson? And he hadn’t been screamed at or belittled yet? His new and improved glasses might be making him hallucinate.
“Potter, are you even listening! Now turn around and do as I have just told you,” Snape commanded.
Harry turned, picking two springs of parsley out of a jar in the back before he was stopped again by Snape’s instruction, “No pick two different ones - they should be closer to a mint-green, the ones you just picked up are too potent and wouldn’t have the desired effect on the potion. Yes, those two will do,” Snape said when Harry picked up two different springs.
“Now you don’t need to cut the parsley, just drop them in with your prepared lavender and give it a gentle mix with your finger - use your pinky as it typically has the least oils from touching other ingredients. Leave those alone until later.”
Harry nodded even though his back was to Snape, then he put the lavender and parsley mixture towards the back of his workspace as he began the rest of his ingredient preparation.
He worked easily through the rest of his preparation, cutting and plucking, peeling and shredding, and measuring out everything until all he needed to do was heat up his cauldron and begin combining the ingredients. He lifted his cauldron and put it over the stovetop. He turned to look at the chalkboard again to double-check what temperature to set the cauldron to, when he saw out of the corner of his eye that Snape was still behind him. The man had stepped a few paces back so he wasn’t hovering over Harry, but he was still standing there with his arms crossed, watching Harry’s every move. Harry tried to squash down his apprehensiveness that Snape had been watching him this entire time, but realized Snape hadn’t given him any other corrections, so he assumed that meant his work was satisfactory so far.
Harry set the temperature, then turned back to his ingredients to begin pouring in the gnat heads when Snape’s voice stopped him.
“Before you put the gnat heads in, take two drops of castor oil and drop them on the bottom of the cauldron.”
Harry whirled around in bewilderment. He could see the recipe on the board perfectly now, and there was no mention of castor oil anywhere. When Snape suggested the tip about the parsley, he thought it was something the man forgot to add to the instructions, but this was the second time he was going off recipe. A sliver of suspicion rose up in Harry. Was Snape trying to make him mess up his potion so he would have to spend more of his break brewing until he got it right? But that didn’t make any sense given he was using Snape’s own ingredients, and he was sure Snape wouldn’t allow Harry to waste countless ingredients of varying costs just to keep him occupied.
Harry pointed at the board and shook his head at Snape. Adding castor oil wasn’t written anywhere on the board.
“Yes I am quite aware that I did not include this step in the instructions on the board. The instructions up there are directly from the fifth-year textbook - which is on my shelf just next to you in case you felt the need to review a book for the theory or properties while you were brewing. Which you clearly haven’t,” Snape said with a sniff.
Harry winced ever so slightly. He didn’t know Snape had expected him to crack open a book for this unofficial assignment. He already had a pretty good idea of what he was brewing, and was planning to confirm his suspicions once the potion was finished based on the coloring.
“Do you recall you asked me once if I could share any other improvements I’ve made to potions recipes?” Snape asked, and continued once Harry nodded.
“Given that the castle is nearly empty, you were in dire need of a distraction, I thought now would be a good time to share some of those improvements.”
Harry bit his lip. He thought Dumbledore had said Snape wasn’t going to offer him any experimental potions from now on. Even though the incident with the Revitalizing Draught hadn’t been due to the contents of the potion, Dumbledore - and Snape - both seemed certain that Harry even taking Snape’s edited potion was a mistake.
Harry didn’t want to upset Snape by refusing - and really, he was interested in what the man had to say - but he didn’t know what to make of Snape’s offer.
As perceptive as ever, Snape picked up on Harry’s hesitation and exhaled slowly through his nose.
“I am not instructing you on how to create a modified version of the potion I set for you to brew, Potter,” Snape said, his tone measured. “This potion’s ingredients and instructions will match what is listed in the textbook. I merely thought to offer some tips throughout the brewing process. That is, if you are truly willing to learn…?”
Harry only needed to think for a second before he nodded hastily.
“Good. So because castor oil is extremely flammable, adding two drops into your cauldron before you add the first ingredient is an adequate way to know if your cauldron is the right temperature. The instructions require that the cauldron simmer over a low temperature, so if you see flames inside the pot after you add the castor oil, your pot is too hot. If the oil hits the cauldron then sizzles out, you know the cauldron is the right temperature because the oil did not ignite. And if nothing happens, that means the cauldron is not nearly hot enough,” Snape lectured.
Harry nodded along, before thinking better and flipped to a fresh page so he could scrawl some quick notes about what Snape had just said. Snape paused momentarily as he waited for Harry’s furious writing to halt. When it did, Snape lectured a bit further on the uses of castor oil, then instructed Harry to keep going through the steps of the potion.
As Harry kept working, Snape conjured a stool and situated himself next to the counter - giving Harry enough space to work, but close enough that he could still see each step Harry was going through. Every now and then Snape’s steady voice would interrupt him to offer a bit of advice, or share a fact with Harry. Harry ended up keeping his notebook open on the counter next to his cauldron, so he could keep writing down the bits of information Snape was sharing with him.
After he added the final ingredient, and gave the potion two full stirs clockwise with a half-turn counter-clockwise (as instructed by Snape), Harry shut off his stove and carefully peered over his cauldron. His potion had turned into a midnight-blue color and was emitting a silvery vapor. It no longer smelt like lavender, but instead had a woodsy scent - like a combination of pine cones and grass after it had rained, which was actually quite pleasant. It turned out even more perfect than Harry could have imagined.
He grinned as he turned to Snape, taking a step to the side and gesturing for Snape to take a look as well, which he rose from his seat and stepped forward to do so. Snape peered in and wafted the smell with his fingers, and for a split second the corners of his lips seemed to lift before settling back to normal.
“I can see you managed to follow instructions and keep up with my advice without completely butchering the potion in the process, Mr. Potter,” Snape said, which apparently was as close to a “good job” as Harry was going to get from the man.
Still smiling, Harry nodded contently.
“I will bottle this up and return the remaining ingredients to my private stores. When I return I expect the name of this potion as well as its properties and uses written down,” Snape instructed, as he tapped a finger on Harry’s notebook.
Harry exhaled loudly through his nose. He had already deduced that Snape had him brewing a Draught of Peace, and now was expected to provide the man with a write-up as well. Throughout the brewing process, Harry had been half-hoping Snape had forgotten about making him do a write-up afterwards, but no such luck.
At Harry’s expression Snape merely raised an eyebrow in response, but with Harry’s self-adjusting glasses, he could actually see that the man’s eyes seemed to show a hint of amusement, rather than malice at Harry’s reaction.
As Harry grabbed his notebook and began his writing, he heard Snape returning the remaining ingredients back to his stores. After a few minutes while Harry was still writing and the ingredients were put away, Snape used his wand to siphon the potion into a vial, stoppered it, then vanished the remaining contents of the potion. He placed the vial in a stand, and brought it over to where Harry sat writing.
Harry quickly finished his sentence, looked up at Snape, then handed the man his notebook so he could read his write-up. “Draught of Peace… silver vapor… anxiety reliever and stress reducer..” Snape murmured as he skimmed Harry’s response with a neutral expression.
“You are correct, Potter,” Snape said as he handed Harry’s notebook back to him. “The potion I had you brew was the Draught of Peace elixir. And Merlin thank the stars you knew that given that you already brewed this potion already in my Potions classroom last year. Although I do have to say your efforts last year were significantly… lacking compared to your brewing skills I’ve witnessed today.”
Harry twisted his lips as he bit back a sigh. Only Snape could tell him his brewing skills had gotten better by reminding him how lackluster they were last year.
“Now then,” Snape continued as he picked up the vial and held it up so Harry could study it as well. “This Draught I had you brew is a slightly modified version than any you will find in a textbook. Emphasis on the slightly, Potter. No changes as significant as the ones made to the Revitalizing Draught you took. The adjustments I have made to the recipe allow the one that consumes it a clarity that is almost a dream-like state. Fear and worries will dissipate, as well as stress and anxiety and the drinker will be filled with such a confidence people only are capable of when they are not clouded by their worries and stresses.” Snape put the vial back in the stand and pushed it so it was in the middle of the table between him and Harry.
Harry quietly observed the potion, thinking about what a beautiful shade of blue it was and wondering what Snape planned to use the potion for when Snape cleared his throat.
“I would like - I mean - this potion - the potion you brewed- it’s-” Snape took a deep breath and closed his mouth and eyes for a beat before continuing. “The potion is yours. To keep. You may take it now, or later on during the holidays, or save it for another time that is more worthwhile for you to take it,” Snape finally managed to get out.
Harry’s eyes widened. This potion was for him? Snape had him brew an improved version of the Draught of Peace elixir, and now said that Harry could take the potion with him? Snape had let Harry use the man’s own private ingredients stores, then had given up hours of his afternoon - his Christmas - to supervise and provide helpful instructions towards Harry’s brewing, so Harry was sure handing over his potion to Snape was expected at the end of this impromptu lesson.
“But you would always collect our potions after we brew them in class, sir. And I used a lot of ingredients from your private stores, isn’t the potion technically yours then?” Harry wrote.
“Ah Mr. Potter, you are forgetting, I am no longer your Potions professor and this was not a classroom assignment,” Snape said wryly. “This was merely an afternoon activity I invited you to participate in, and given that it was my idea, I felt more than responsible to provide the ingredients for this potion, so no repayment is necessary.”
Harry bit his lip. It felt weird to be walking out of Snape’s office with a potion he had brewed, and a really good one at that.
“Take it, Potter. It’s yours to keep,” Snape insisted.
Still feeling slightly hesitant about taking it, Harry slowly reached for the vial, picked it up, and when Snape made no move to stop him, Harry tucked it in his pocket.
Harry made to reach for his notebook but thought better of it. He didn’t need to write this. He should make the effort - show Snape how much he appreciated it. One hand still in his pocket grazing the vial, Harry squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.
“T-t-thanksss s-s-sir.” Harry managed to get out, offering Snape a small smile once the words left his mouth. “H-h-h-h… h-h-h-h… h-h-h-h,” Harry sighed and blew air up at his hair in frustration when nothing else came out. ‘Happy Christmas’ he mouthed to Snape.
“And Happy Christmas to you too, Mr. Potter,” Snape replied calmly.
They’d spent the entire afternoon together in relatively good spirits and Snape had been, well, really helpful and encouraging of Harry’s Potions education. He thought it went pretty well, and had been hoping Snape thought the same, though the older man’s reluctance to smile in front of anyone made it difficult to gauge how he really felt in the moment. But Harry reasoned that Snape had felt generous enough to let Harry take the potion, so he must be in a relatively good mood. Maybe the Christmas spirit had gotten to him. Harry tucked his notebook under his arm and turned toward the door, a satisfied grin stuck on his face, and he didn’t even try to suppress it.
Once Harry’s back was turned, he missed seeing how the lines around his professor’s eyes relaxed and how the man's lips curved into the faintest of smiles.
*****