A Very Strange Breakfast
Harry awoke abruptly in an unfamiliar room. There was bright light from a nearby window shining in his face. He jolted out of bed, reaching for his glasses, leaving slight smudges on the lenses, and nearly poking his eye out with the frames as he shoved them over his eyes. The room came into focus and he recognized its bare white walls. His memory of the night before resurfaced. He was in the room that Snape – Professor Snape – had told him he would be staying for the remainder of the summer after his escape from the Dursleys. The Dursleys…He started breathing faster. Oh Merlin. He had blown up Aunt Marge!
Harry jumped out of the bed and began pacing the room to try to calm down. He dug his feet into the surprisingly plush carpet as he walked. Then he walked to the desk and ran his fingers over the wood and pulled out the drawers to see if anything was in them. They were empty. “No surprise there,” Harry muttered. He walked back to the bed, then looked up to see a door he hadn’t noticed the previous night — one that he hadn’t used to enter the bedroom.
Harry walked to the door — he assumed it was to a bathroom — and opened it. He sighed in relief. It was a bathroom, one that rivaled the quality of the Hogwarts bathrooms. He did his business and brushed his teeth. Then, he splashed cool water on his face at the sink and gripped it, knuckles whitening, staring at his face in the bathroom mirror. His skin was pale, dark circles under his eyes. His hair was its usual bird’s nest, raven curls slightly damp from the water he’d splashed. He smiled slightly. Despite the events of the night he’d had, Harry had slept the best he had in ages.
The rest of the previous night drifted into his head. Snape — Professor Snape, Merlin Harry needed to get it through his head that the professor deserved maybe that much respect — had said something Harry needed to remember. Something about a…schedule! Merlin’s beard! Harry was going to be late for breakfast! He rushed downstairs, still in the clothes he had worn the night before.
Snape was sitting at the table in the small kitchen when Harry made his way downstairs. Two places were set, and two bowls of steaming porridge were there next to one empty mug. The other mug was between Snape’s spindly white fingers as he took a sip of the tea in the mug. A squat teapot sat in the middle of the table next to a small bowl full of sugar. A small pitcher full of milk sat beside the sugar bowl.
Harry stared at the surprisingly domestic sight of Snape sipping tea, greasy black hair pulled back from his face. He jumped at the thud of the mug against the table. “I’m shocked, Potter. Somehow you’re on time for breakfast,” Snape drawled. “Your sainted father never cared about being on time. From your attendance record in my classes, I figured you had inherited that same disregard.”
Harry flushed red. He puffed up, about to argue, but then thought better of it and bit his lip. The Dursleys didn’t tolerate backtalk. Neither did Snape. And if the Dursleys were willing to hit him in the privacy of their own home, and keep him in a cupboard…what might Snape do when other people weren’t around to monitor him? Harry flinched at the thought. Instead of arguing with Snape, Harry sat down at the empty place at the table and poured himself a cup of tea. Snape’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly at Harry’s flinch. Previously, the boy would have fought back. What had changed since the school year ended?
Harry, now determined to ignore Snape, took a sip of the tea. It was strong and hot and slightly bitter, just the way he liked. After all, he could sometimes steal dregs of tea from the pot at the Dursleys and this was the way it tasted. (Maybe it wasn’t exactly like he liked, but what he was accustomed to.) Harry shook his head, as if to shake away the thought. He reached for the bowl of porridge in front of him, added a small amount of sugar, and took a quick bite. Harry hummed in pleasure at the flavor – he hadn’t eaten in days at the Dursleys. They had been punishing him while Aunt Marge had been staying with them for even lesser slights than they had in past years. Before he knew it, he was scraping the bowl clean with the side of the spoon.
Snape sneered at Harry, lip curling. “No need to lick the bowl, Potter. There’s plenty more where that came from.” He pointed to the stove, where a pot of porridge sat.
Harry didn’t want to refuse, but cold porridge? He wrinkled his nose. Really? Sure, he had eaten worse at the Dursleys – one time they had given him dog biscuits as his only meal for a laugh – but he had gotten rather insanely sick off of cold porridge when he was learning how to cook for the Dursleys. Vomiting, fever, chills, the whole lot. He didn’t exactly fancy doing that again.
Snape gestured at the pot. “Go on then, Potter. It’s under a warming charm. Salazar knows how much teenagers like to eat.”
Harry stared in disbelief. He said a quick thank you, then served himself a second bowl of porridge. He stopped midway through, too full to stomach another bite, then stood up to put his bowl and cup in the sink.
Snape’s sneer stopped him from moving his feet past the kitchen table. “And where do you think you are going, Mr. Potter?”
Harry gulped. “I was just going to wash my dishes, sir.”
Snape’s face remained impassive, but something in his eyes flickered. Harry stared, wondering what it had been. Surprise? Derision? Harry moved to continue to the sink, but Snape stood in front of him, batlike and looming in his – Harry looked closer – fuzzy black bathrobe with (were those cauldrons on it?). Harry startled as the mug and bowl were plucked from his hands, spindly white and surprisingly graceful un-potioned stained fingers pulling them away.
“Go do your homework, Mr. Potter. I will be working in my lab all day. As I said last night, lunch will be served promptly at 1. Snacks are in the cupboard,” Snape said almost mildly. “I expect no disruptions or distractions. If you disturb me, what I am doing to my potions ingredients in the lab will not even begin to compare with your punishment.”
Harry stared.
“Well? Go!” Snape barked abruptly. And so Harry, a little discombobulated, a lot full, and exhausted from the events of the night before, went to do his homework.