Chapter Text
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“We know , Professor Snape, you’ve told us a thousand times already,” Theodore complained to Professor Snape for the last time. “We will stay close, we will not follow any strangers, we will scream at the top of our voices if anyone attempts to kidnap us. Honestly, Professor, we fought a basilisk and survived. I think we’ll be fine if someone tries to kidnap us…”
The professor gave him a pointed look.
Theo opened his mouth and closed it again— which was probably for the better.
All around them, the Leaky Cauldron was bustling with day-drinkers, much to Snape’s displeasure. He led the two boys— disguised and glamoured, of course— out of the pub and into the open streets of Diagon Alley. Wizards, witches and wixen alike roamed the streets, bags full of shopping, pouches full of coins. Above them, the sky shone bright— perfect weather for a stroll outside.
“First,” Snape squinted at his shopping list (God, he was getting old if he couldn’t see). “The apothecary. Come along now— we’ll get your new school supplies while we’re at it, too.”
Harry tilted his head as he padded along after Professor Snape. “Oh, but what about Hermione and the rest—? Can we still come and do our shopping with them even if we—”
“Yes,” said Professor Snape impatiently, “You may still join Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, Longbottom and Weasley on their shopping trip, if you wish. It’s simply more convenient if we do what purchasing we can now.”
While Harry had visited the apothecary at Diagon Alley before, it still never ceased to amaze him. All around, jars and glasses of every size contained every plant and animal ingredient one could imagine— roots, leaves, glowing flowers, eggs, worms… every ingredient that Harry had ever (or haven’t) heard of was there for the looking.
“Ah, Ms. Haywood,” Severus greeted, “I was expecting to see you.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two boys lingering behind, their curious eyes crawling over the many, many unorthodox things lining the wall-high shelves.
“Hullo, Professor Snape,” the blonde woman smiled brightly. She was incredibly young— in fact, she looked like she had only just graduated. “I’ve just been expecting you— it’s the time of the year, hmm?”
The potions master sighed, rubbing his temple. “Indeed. I’ll send in the Hogwarts’ order for restock soon enough— our apothecary department is suffering a drought.”
“Of course. What can I get for you today, then?” Ms. Haywood tilted her head, pulling a quill out of her hair, a parchment magically floating to her side.
“Let’s see here…” Severus sighed, “I need… as much aconite as you can give… moonstone, occamy eggs… and 3 vials of dragon blood.”
Ms. Haywood jotted all this down methodically, furrowing her eyes. “Alright. I have on stock perhaps 3 kilograms of aconite— and 1 kilogram of moonstone, half a box of occamy eggs, just imported…”
The potions master nodded, resigned. “I’ll take what you’re able to give me. And the dragon blood?”
“We have two vials left, at best,” she said apologetically. “I can double-check our stock if you’d like— and I can ask Mr. Westift when our next import comes in, and we can mail it directly to the castle when it arrives, if that’ll work?”
Severus tapped his chin thoughtfully. “That could work. One or two will do for now.”
“Excellent.” Ms. Haywood beamed at him. “I’ll get started on packing your order and you can return in… let’s say, an hour or so for pickup?”
“Thank you.” the older Slytherin nodded, heaving a sigh. “Thank Merlin the headmaster is covering the price of this… Boys, come along now.”
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715 Wrensbury Lane swiftly regained its vigor once it became occupied. The overgrown vines climbing up the sides of it were very quickly taken cared of, trimmed and left lining their second-floor windows in a neat frame. The garden, previously overrun with weeds, flourished with all kinds of vegetables— and when he was cooking, Severus found himself subconsciously putting aside vegetable seeds for Harry to plant later on.
Throughout the day, the laughter of two boys could be heard— whether they were reading, playing chess, or, unbeknownst to their neighbors, brewing potions with the professor in his lab.
“Theo, pass the porcupine quills,” said Harry as he handed the other boy a bowl of powdered lavender springs. “Don’t forget to stir three times, counter-clockwise .”
“Yes yes,” Theodore rolled his eyes but did so anyway, flicking his wand around the bubbling cauldron. Opposite the boys’ table, Severus was working on his own potion, occasionally checking that the two were still on the right track. “Grab lionfish spines and valerian springs from the cupboard, won’t you?”
“Got it!” Harry chimed.
Stirring his own cauldron fifteen times, Severus paused, glancing at the monthly-calendar he had posted on the wall of his lab. He grimaced, noticing the date. Soon, he would have to try his hand at brewing a renownedly-difficult potion for the first time.
“Theodore, watch the heat,” he reminded the Norse boy, snapping himself back into focus. “It’s almost ready— don’t mess it up at the last step, now.”
The boy nodded diligently, pointing his wand at the fire beneath the cauldron, the flames retreating under the guide of his magic. “Better?”
“Better.” Severus nodded his approval. “Harry, how many times do I have to tell you not to run in a potions lab?”
“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly, slowing his pace. In his arms he carried the remaining ingredients for his and Theo’s potion, setting them down on the cutting board. The potions master watched in (silent) admiration as the boy chopped, sliced and thinned the ingredients with incredible precision for a twelve-year-old. “How many more minutes now, Theo?”
“Two,” Theo glanced at the clock. “Everything ready?”
The emerald-eyed boy nodded, scooping all his chopped ingredients into small stone bowls, ready to sweep them into their potion once the clock ticked time.
“Ready… Now.” Theo instructed, and as he said, Harry dropped all of his quills, spines and shrugs into the cauldron, watching it change into a beautiful lavender blue. “Let’s see…” The taller of the two held up the potions manual, comparing the shade of their end-product to the book’s color scale. “Near perfect!”
“Excellent work.” Severus smiled approvingly. “Not bad for your first time.”
“Heh!” The two boys grinned, giddy with success, high-fiving each other. Not forgetting where they were, Theodore dimmed the fire, and Harry, grabbing hand-protectors, lifted the cauldron off of the stand.
“Don’t worry about bottling it,” the potions master shook his head. “Leave it be. I’ll deal with it once I’m done with this. It’s currently 3pm— go outside and play if you wish, or read— I have some important brewing to do, so I’d like the two of you to behave while I work alone for a few hours. We will have dinner at the regular time— 6pm— so if you two go down to the town center, be back by 5.30pm, am I clear?”
“Yes sir!” they chorused.
He nodded. “Get going. Be safe if you leave the house.”
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A week flew by, and still Severus failed to produce a perfect Wolfsbane potion. It was getting to him, really— he spent countless nights up, hours after sending the boys to bed, redoing and redoing the potion only to get it a smidge less than perfect. He had three days still to send the first sample to Lupin— and then he would have to produce the exact same result for six days more leading to the full moon.
“Fucking headmaster,” he cursed under his breath, “Hiring a bloody werewolf as a professor!”
In all matters, however, it was good that Severus was getting practice, he supposed. He had not brewed Wolfsbane before— and should Hogwarts come across another werewolf student— he would not wish to deny them education just because he was incapable of brewing a perfect Wolfsbane potion.
“Murtlap tentacles,” he muttered to himself, letting the slimy ingredients slide off his cutting board into the potion. “Medium heat.”
He watched with bated breath as the potion morphed— and finally, into a color he was satisfied with. Good— now he just had to not fuck it up until the end of it.
His lab lay in the basement, but even then, he could often hear the boys above him. Most of the time, they would be playing games of wizarding chess— and most of the time, Harry would be losing. For all his smarts, the boy-who-lived was simply not blessed at strategic games.
Speaking of smarts… Severus wondered if the Dursleys were still struggling to get Harry’s plastered report card off of their wall. He had always been good at sticking charms— particularly at making them last . It would be a while before they could pry the parchment off of their wall, unless they demolished, of course. Which would just cause a bunch of noise, money and embarrassment, he was sure.
“Now for the Sopophorous Beans,” Severus reminded himself, crushing the juice of each bean slowly, letting the liquid trickle into the cauldron, one bean at a time. His Wolfsbane potion had become a muted blue now, like a dusky sky, hidden sun— once again, a good sign. All he had left were the crushed occamy egg shells…
Having grinded the occamy egg to silver-blue powder, Severus brushed it into the cauldron with— you guessed it, a brush— holding his breath as the color changed once more. And for the last step…
He waved his wand above the cauldron, stirred it six times anti-clockwise, and once more, waved his wand over the potion, lowering the fire. Almost immediately, it frothed and began releasing beautiful blue smoke—
“Hah!” Severus pumped his fist into the air, and then realizing himself, withdrew from the motion. It was very fortunate that no one was there to witness him. Shaking his head from the ridiculous behavior (it was warranted, he justified), he reached for a vial to bottle the potion and made a note to have Hedwig deliver the potion when Harry and Theo had fallen asleep.
For the past month— ever since the headmaster broke the news to him, anyway— Severus had been considering whether or not to reveal Lupin’s identity to the boys, and by extension, their four friends. Lupin would be teaching them, afterall— it was their right to know. But yet again, it was not his right to say.
Perhaps the Severus Snape of 1990 would’ve spilled the wolf’s secret, out of spite— but the Severus Snape of 1993 was different.
(And after all, perhaps he had a soft spot for his former lover.)
Remus Lupin seemed like a thing from so long ago— when they were schoolboys and constantly fighting each other for top placing in their classes. They shared too many classes for their own good— all advanced: N.E.W.T level Potions, Arithmancy, Herbology…
Despite his constant weariness, Remus battled through to attend to his studies— not that his outstanding grades helped him find employment, anyway— because who would hire a werewolf?
What little of what they had burned when they separated after graduation. Remus was with the Order of the Phoenix, of course, and Severus, severely misguided at the time, had joined the Death Eaters. And then, after all too long, the war ended, leaving in its path soldiers and strays with no family, no friends and no belonging. Severus was lucky, he’d admit that— as Dumbledore’s spy and a proficient potions master, he replaced Slughorn the moment the position was vacant. Behind him, many, like Lupin, were left with nowhere to go.
Severus barely remembered the year following the war. Everything was in pieces; the classes at Hogwarts were pathetically small, a reflection of how much and how many the war had taken from them. He had met Remus again, then, one late night at the Leaky Cauldron… one thing had lead to another, and a one time night became a two night thing, and then—
At the end of the day, he wasn’t Severus Snape if he didn’t burn down all the meaningful relationships he got his hands on. There was a screaming match, and then someone— Severus— crossed a line. The hurt across Remus’s face was deeper than any scar the wolf ever inflicted on himself, and Severus had hoped that the other would leave screaming at him, yelling at him, but he should’ve known.
Even among the marauders, Remus was always the quiet one, the kind one. Remus left without a fight or another word, the silence louder than screaming anger, and Severus never heard of him again, except in passing from Minerva whenever the Potters’ anniversary came up. Never heard of him again, until Dumbledore slammed the news into his face like a freight truck.
Dumbledore being Dumbledore, he never did anything directly , of course, but what else could he mean when he said, “We will be welcoming a new professor into the Defense position,” and immediately followed it with, “Severus, if you would so kindly prepare batches of Wolfsbane potion starting August…”
(It was infuriating, really. Would it kill the headmaster to speak directly?)
“Professor Snape?”
Severus shook himself out of his thoughts when the boys’ voice came knocking on the lab door. “What is it?”
“Can we come in now? Or are you still busy?” said Harry. Even through the door, he could hear their thinly-veiled excitement.
“Come in.” the potions master flicked the door open, snorting when the two— who had been leaning against the door— tumbled down the staircase. “What is it?”
“Look what we got!” Harry was grinning triumphantly, holding five pounds in his hands like it was the golden snitch.
Severus blinked. “Mr. Potter, if you tell me you either stole or picked that off the road, I swear—”
“No!” Harry said hastily, “Mrs. Rosette was baking and we were passing by her house and she needed more eggs and milk but couldn’t leave her baking cookies alone, so she paid us some money to run down to the store to get them for her.”
“Ah,” the potions master made a noise of understanding. “I see. Well, you earned that money. It is yours to spend as you like.”
Harry beamed. “Well, we actually had another question.”
“Fire away.”
“Ms. Frewfield saw us on our way back with Mrs. Rosette’s groceries, and you know, Ms. Frewfield had back problems,” Theodore explained animatedly. “She was complaining about the state of her lawn, and I said, well, Harry’s really good at tending to gardens!”
Severus raised his eyebrow. “Ah. I think I see where this is going.”
“And she offered to pay us twenty pounds to weed her lawn!” Harry announced brightly. “I mean, I think twenty pounds is a lot, so maybe we’ll just ask for ten pounds and some cookies or something, but, can we— can we—”
“I don’t see anything wrong with it.” Severus shrugged, wiping his hands on a washcloth. “Lots of kids do small errands for pocket money over the summer. All I ask is that you don’t overcharge anyone and don’t half-ass anything. And of course, to be home by 5.30pm.”
“Really?” Harry’s eyes sparkled, like he had never thought he could get money out of weeding.
“It’ll be good to have you two out of the house while I work, too,” Severus considered. “And you two need some sun— Theo is way too pale, for goodness’s sake. Vitamin D will be good for you.”
Theodore rolled his eyes. Obviously.
“What did I say about rolling eyes?” Severus admonished. Theodore grinned boyishly and stuck out his tongue. The older Slytherin sighed (already feeling the pains of being a parent), seeing the setting sun outside the grounded basement window. “Come along. It’s almost dinnertime. Does rice and gravy chicken sound good for the evening?”
As he followed the boys upstairs, Severus resigned himself to a solution. It was not his place to reveal Lupin’s identity— but should one of the six start figuring it out (who was he kidding, Hermione would have it figured out by Christmas), he would not actively halt their tracks.
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