calming draught
Severus couldn't stop thinking about it.
For the next week, every day that he saw Harriet —all the time—, he just couldn't stop thinking about the word. She clearly didn't remember saying it, continuing to talk to him with respect, calling Mr. Snape, and nothing else.
How dare she? He asked himself, watching her tend the garden with soft movements to not break anything. How dare she stand there like nothing happened? Like if she didn't call me dad.
He didn't mention to anyone, but no one had to ask to know that something happened. At least not Regulus, and much less Narcissa.
The black cat was appreciating the sun with his body, relaxing at Harriet's side.
“Drink water,” he reminded the child.
Harriet turned to look at him. Her curly, dark hair dazzled, since Dorothea had given her books to care for it, and mysterious hair potions had appeared along with those gifts. Harriet had smiled big, so Severus continued making them. It was styled in a twisted bun, with thunderous curls framing her childlike face.
She was wearing a dress of the softest blue colour, with two pearls as decorative buttons, with a somewhat exaggerated collar, with white lace, black pointed lines, and a black ribbon in the middle.
“You're going to get sunstroke if you don't do it,” he added.
Harriet nodded, removing her gloves as she stood up. He was sitting inside the house, brewing potions for his storage, but watching her, so she didn't get hurt.
A glass of lemonade was waiting for her on the table, but she tried not to look desperate for it. Severus suppressed his smile as he noted that she failed miserably.
“How is the potion going, Mr. Snape?”
“As it supposed to,” he said vaguely.
“And what is it?”
“Calming Draught. What do you remember from what you read?”
“That is used to calm a person down after they have had suffered a shock, trauma, or emotional outburst,” Harriet recited. “Why are you doing it, sir?”
“I work as a teacher at Hogwarts.”
“A potions' teacher?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Regulus said that I was going to attend Hogwarts.”
“Yes, once you turn eleven.”
“With Draco?”
She was extremely curious today, Severus admitted. It was a good thing. At least it had to be, coming from a girl who had been raised by forcing her to remain silent.
He didn't turn to look at her, since he knew it would intimidate her, but he answered her question. “Draco, Parkinson, Zabini, Nott, and many more.”
She didn't ask anything else, returning to the small garden.
Narcissa was thirty-three years old, married for fifteen years. She had gone through multiple pregnancies, she had lost all but one of them, and that had been the last.
She was the last of her sisters, but not the last in the family. She had grown up surrounded by children who tried to hide their emotions in every way possible —she did it herself— so she had it pretty easy with her own son.
Draco wasn't a good liar. He tended to avoid looking into her eyes and would fly for hours trying to calm down.
Harriet was not much different.
She wondered to herself if perhaps her cup of tea wasn't burning her fingers because she was holding it so tightly, or if perhaps the heat had transferred to her red cheeks?
“Something bothers you, my dear?” Narcissa asked. “The tea hour is perfect for sharing a concern.”
“I think I did something… bad.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised. “And what is that bad thing you did?”
“I…” Harriet bit her lip, staring at the biscuits as if they were the most interesting thing in life. “I called Mr. Snape… dad.”
Narcissa paused for a moment, her teacup spilling some liquid over her mouth. Noticing a drop slipping down her lip, Narcissa quickly abandoned the cup, wiping herself as delicately as possible.
Dad. She couldn't help the smile on her lips, trying to make it as sweet as possible.
“I don't understand.”
“I called him dad!” She squealed in embarrassment, grateful that they weren't surrounded by people. “I was falling asleep, and it just slipped from my lips.”
“And what did he say?” Narcissa asked interested.
Would he have been excited? Perhaps he had hidden it completely, or he would have wished that she would stay awake to hear it one more time.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” She repeated, almost indignant.
“Nothing,” Harriet covered her face, putting her cup down. In a way a lady should not, she sank into her chair, her tears on the edge. “I don't know what to do, Mrs. Malfoy. He thinks I don't remember, and I play along.”
Narcissa clicked her tongue, approaching the girl. She knelt before her, moving her stubborn hands away from her face. Her green eyes, with tears of shame, avoided her.
“I'm sure he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and you don't want to make him uncomfortable either. You two are very similar,” she added. “But I'm sure that if he had been angry, Severus would have let you know from the moment you woke up.”
“It's not that I'm scandalized by… You know, recognizing his good deeds. But… I fear I have offended him.”
“Harriet,” for the first time, Narcissa mentioned her name more seriously. The girl grimaced, feeling the tone almost like a scolding. “If it had bothered Severus, he would have made it clear to you.”
The girl bit her lip once again, and this time Narcissa couldn't help it, and just as she would have done with Draco, she gently ran her finger over the tender lip, releasing her from the tooth.
“My mother wasn't the best person, and she wasn't very good to any of her daughters either,” Narcissa murmured, looking into her eyes. “She did not agree with my father telling us that we were heirs to the Black house, and that therefore no rules except our own applied to us. She said that made us savages. Each of us fled from her in her own way: my older sister, Bellatrix, joined… Voldemort. My other sister, Andromeda, married a muggle-born. I married Lucius. I was the last to get married, and the only one who did it in a good way, without escaping or rebelling.”
The girl's eyes never left hers, even if she didn't understand her point.
“Severus's parents weren't the best either,” the girl's eyes sparkled with some interest. “I know he had a very bad time, but it's not my story to tell. Your parents… I didn't know them very well, we were of different ages. He was a pureblood, and your mother was a muggle born, but they were both brilliant wizards. They both sacrificed themselves for you, so you could grow. If it is your wish to give Severus that opportunity to raise you, not as a guardian, but as a father, it is not wrong, and you are not betraying their memories either.”
Severus was not a good sleeper.
There was always something that interrupted him, whether it was a modification to some potion, a new idea for a spell, or even his incessant insomnia.
However, there was something else that night, something that made him frown so badly that his eyebrows touched. It was an uncomfortable, permanent sensation in his chest that clung to his soul and squeezed it as if it were a simple orange.
He let out a sigh, rolling up the sleeves of his dark robe. He scratched his neck uncomfortably, wishing the feeling would just go away.
A noise made him turn his head. It couldn't be someone entering the house, as his magic would have killed it instantly. It wasn't Regulus, either, the black cat was sleeping soundly in the comfortable chair in the living room.
It had to be…
Some screams broke the silence of the home. Full of horror, of thunderous supplication.
Harriet screamed.
Severus slammed his door, running to the girl's room. He opened it without hesitation.
Harriet shifted in her bed abruptly, tears running down her face like a waterfall. Those screams were definitely going to hurt her throat, since they did not stop, sobbing and begging without stopping.
He quickly threw himself next to her, sitting on the tiny space of the bed. He held her in her arms, in an attempt to make her stop that horrible movement of hers.
Memories of holding Lily in the same way, but dead, flooded his mind, but Severus shook his head from side to side.
It wasn't the time.
“Easy, easy,” he whispered in her ear, manoeuvring her onto his lap. Unconsciously, Harriet curled up into herself, almost like a little bug. “Accio Calming Draft!”
A glass vial appeared in his hand. But he didn't uncover it until Harriet's screams turned into anguished crying —which took at least half an hour—.
“It's over, it's over,” he murmured. He moved the small vial to Harriet's lips, first wetting them and finally passing the liquid, almost forcing it down her throat.
The girl whimpered, disgusted by its taste. Once empty, Severus set it aside, turning to Harriet. He stroked her hair, which was braided.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” stammered Harriet, still crying. “Do not hit me, please.”
“No one will hit you,” Severus replied, holding her gently against him. “No one else will hurt you, Harriet. Not while I’m here.”