Awkwardness and Betrayal
The Death Eaters had left him to die alone, in a cold and stone cell. There was no warmth, not even a scent of comfort. But utter bitterness. Severus laid with his back against the wall, bleeding and breathing heavily. How many hours had passed since they left him here? He was so careful this whole time… it didn’t make sense how they found out he had been the one to kill Dumbledore, or how they found out he was a traitor.
He kept replaying every moment since that time he had met Dumbledore and begged him to help protect Lily and begrudgingly, the Potter boys as well. He had failed at that. With his failure arose a new issue, one that was prophesied and was well beyond a decade later. He had promised to protect his childhood best friend’s son, and he fully intended on still going that. That was the last purpose he had within his rather lonely life, a promise, one to Lily nonetheless. He had always kept his word, and that promise was the last bit of motivation to keep his will to live burning.
He glanced around the cell room, nothing. No vents, nor openings. Not even a crack in the wall that led to the outside world. He was deep within the basement, light hadn’t reached this place in years. It was obvious with the stale smell that considering lingered in the air. His only plan of escape was a risky one, and he was more likely to burn out his magical core for a while if he attempted it. Apparition, and to his least favorite Gryffindor, or at least somewhere near him. A million thoughts ran across his mind, and a million things that could go wrong alongside with it. He knew where the boy lived, that wasn’t the issue. The fact that the boy lived in an almost all non-magical neighborhood was a different story however.
Severus didn’t have a complete sense of what time it was, but judging how long he had been locked away, late afternoon. Most of the people there were ought to be at work still or at least inside with the hot and humid weather of summer. He sat up a bit straighter with a wince, and mentally prepared himself. He just needed to be close to Potter’s house, he had recall seeing a park nearby one of the few times Dumbledore or the Order had forced him to watch the boy, before he went to Hogwarts. Usually Figgs or Minerva took care of that, but occasionally he was sent on babysitting duty. He began to envision the park, once again thankful for his near perfect memory.
A few seconds later, he was outside. Severus immediately felt even more lightheaded than before. He thought he had made a mistake, but the creaking of a swing alerted him. He looked up to see a pair of familiar green eyes staring down at him, startled.
***
Harry and the man sat in the room, not a sound exchanged between them. He didn’t bother protesting when Snape had taken his only pen and few pieces of paper and started to scribble down sentence after sentence. After a while, the boy grew curious.
”What are you doing?” He asked after watching the man write for a better chunk of an hour. Snape didn’t look up as he replied.
”Where is your owl, hm?”
“Hedwig’s at the Weasleys… I sent her away—“ Snape had cut him off.
”When will she be back, Potter?” His tone was the same as it always was, curt and cold. Harry had to force himself to response civilly.
“A few hours… she usually comes back at midnight.”
The potion master simply nodded. The atmosphere between them was thick and dense with awkwardness since Snape found out that the “Golden Boy” wasn’t treated as well as he thought. Harry had to force himself to hold back a scoff, Snape was always good at finding which kids were abused at Hogwarts and weren’t, despite their houses. It didn’t even take him within the first week to notice the signs and pull them aside. He had watched every first year Snape had saved from their shitty households. He was happy for them, really. He was glad another child was spared from their abusers. But another part of him, one he never liked to acknowledge, was envious. Why wasn’t he found out? He always thought that Snape knew, but didn’t care. He hated him, and his father for that matter. He absolutely loathed Harry James Potter, The Chosen One, The Golden Boy, The Boy Who Lived.
But as much as he hated Snape, he couldn’t blame the man if he truly didn’t notice. He hid it well, he learned to when his primary school teachers started to notice. He was good at lying, he was almost cunning in that way. Maybe that’s what the Sorting Hat saw in him that made it almost place him in Slytherin. He thought about what it would have been like if he was amongst the snakes. No doubt he’d still be friends with Hermione and Ron, but would he eventually had befriended Draco and his minions as well? And what of Snape, would he been on better terms if he got to know him better? He doubted it. Snape didn’t hate Harry solely because he was a Gryffindor. He hated him because he was his father’s son.
He looked back up at the man, noting a few new streaks of grey. The man looked awful, worse than usual. Which was saying a lot for the greasy man. He remembered that he didn’t know how Snape gotten so beaten up, his uncle had interrupted him before he could question the man. Harry knew he would regret asking, but he felt as if the Slytherin owned him some form of answer for not letting him bleed out at the park.
”What happened before you came here?” He asked bluntly, his tone wasn’t particularly kind. He was suspicious, he bet if he rolled up the man’s sleeve, a nasty and blacken mark would be lying there. He saw the Potion Master visible stiffening, almost scowling at the boy.
“For your information, Potter, I was in a cell,” The man spoke, a hint of venom in his words. There wasn’t a point in lying, Harry would find out sooner or later. Harry frowned and his brows furrowed. He knew the Death Eaters were the ones who most likely bruised him up like this. He decided to pry.
”I had a nightmare about your fellow cult members torturing someone. It wasn’t actually just a nightmare though, was it?” As he spoke, he was extremely aware of the vein that was popping out of the side of Snape’s head. “What did you, Voldemort’s right man hand—“ the Slytherin visibly winced at the Dark Lord’s name “—for them to leave you to rot?”
Snape was seething, he was livid. He couldn’t yell at Harry, that would alert the Dursleys that he was there. Petunia wasn’t exactly fond of Snape, nor was her family as a whole. He clutched the bedding, and took a deep breath as he tried to control his rather rash temper.
”They found out who the true master of the Elder Wand was. How they did, I do not know. I made sure that other than Bellatrix and Draco—“ he stopped. Draco. He had told Voldemort, or at least he told his father. In which, Lucius would go to the Dark Lord, eager to share who the real master was. The pit of dread that was lying in the man’s stomach grew even more, how had he not figured it out the moment he had been thrown into that void of a basement? Lucius was always more than willing to betray another for a chance to climb the Dark Lord’s ranks, and he had done just that to Snape.
Harry sensed the man’s unease, and he came to the same conclusion not a moment after. “Malfoy ratted you out.”
”Not the younger one… his father did.” Snape spoke quietly. He had known Lucius for most of his life, he couldn’t help but feel hurt at the betrayal.
”I would say I’m surprised, but I’m not. Serves you right for killing Professor Dumbledore,” Harry said with a scoff. That made the Potion Master snap. Snape stood up suddenly, and stalked over to Harry, who was now taking a step back for each one the man took forward.
”You don’t know anything, Potter. You and your pathetic excuse of a man father both think that you know everything. Forever blinded by your own prejudice and judgment!” Harry was backed against the wall this point. “You know as little as your friends and the majority of the Wizarding world,” He grabbed Harry by his collar, and the boy flinched harshly.
Snape’s eyes widened, and he let go almost immediately. He had seen that flinch before, after he grabbed his collar a moment after the boy invaded his mind about a year back. He didn’t think much of it then, but he did now. He took a step back, a little ball of guilt began to form in his chest. But the rustling of a metal cage paused it, Hedwig was back.