Chapter Text
Severus hated grading papers. Each year the students he taught seemed to reach new lows, bringing him abysmal, nonsensical writing that irked him to decipher. He had been huddled over his desk for around an hour, meticulously reading through his fifth-year students’ papers of varying success on the best method of dispelling pixies. He sighed, shaking his head as he marked another ‘terrible’ down across his student’s work.
He looked up, disgruntled to find the first-year who had been assigned detention had paused in writing his lines.
“Parks,” Severus growled, addressing the child whose head snapped up in alarm. “I have told you to continue with your lines until I have deemed you worthy of dismissal. What about those instructions was unclear?”
“Nothing, sir.” The boy squeaked, picking up his quill.
“Then continue with your writing,” He glared at the boy who continued his lines with renewed effort.
Too easy. He chuckled, turning back to his own papers before a knock rang out from the door at the far side of the room. The boy in front of him jumped at the noise and Severus wondered how the child had managed to be sorted into Gryffindor.
“Sir,” Ms Granger began, puffing out her chest. “We wished to speak with you” - she risked a glance at the young first-year - “privately. But if you’re busy, we can return later.”
Ron elbowed her subtly, clearly annoyed by the prospect of a return.
Severus could admit his interest was piqued, folding his hands across his chest as he surveyed the students in front of him; both sixth-years, though obviously uncomfortable standing in the dower classroom, wore expressions of deep concern as they fidgeted where they hovered by the exit. Severus cleared his throat. “Very well,” he gestured to the young boy before him, “Parks, you are dismissed. I trust you have learned not to disrupt my class in the future.”
“Yes, sir.” The boy nodded hastily, shoving his paper and ink in his book bag.
Severus swept out of his chair and rounded his desk, standing before the older students as the young Mr Parks hurriedly fled from his chair, rushing to the far door and slamming it behind him.
Ron and Hermione stepped uneasily into the room, moving to take the two seats parallel to his desk in the front of the classroom.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Severus spoke evenly, crossing his arms.
The two students exchanged uneasy glances as if unsure how to begin. Eventually, Hermione cleared her throat, straightening her back as if to brace herself. “Sir,” she hesitated, “We know you’ve spent a lot of time with Harry over the summer…” She trailed off, turning to Ron for assistance.
“Well, we were just…” The boy looked as though he were about to vomit as Severus raised his brow in question. “We were just wondering if you noticed anything about him.”
Severus blinked in surprise. “If I noticed anything about him?”
“What Ron means to say, sir,” Hermione continued, “Is that we’ve been worried about him recently and were wondering if he’s told you anything about what he might be going through.”
Fascinating, Severus hummed to himself as he adjusted his posture.
“He seems to trust you well enough,” Ron shrugged, continuing. “Talks about you all the bloody time.”
“And you did spend so much time together,” Hermione jumped in, sending Ron a meaningful glare. “We’re only worried.”
“What exactly are you so worried about?” Severus narrowed his eyes. “What seems so significant you would come to me with your troubles?”
The students glanced at each other warily.
“We’re concerned about different things, really,” Hermione began, “It’s just that-”
“Well, Sirius died back at the Ministry, you know,” Ron cut in abruptly, wringing his hands together beneath the table. “And he refuses to talk to us about it despite the fact I know he blames himself. There’s only so much I can push him before he just gets angry,” he shrugged, “But I don’t think he’s dealing with it well… Sirius was like the only family he had apart from those wretched Dursleys.”
“Harry always seems to think that everything is his fault.” Hermione nodded. “He takes too much on himself. Even though we’ve tried to get through to him– he just won’t talk about Sirius. Sometimes, sir, it’s unnerving how far he’ll go to avoid the subject.”
“Is his manner of dealing with grief the only thing perturbing you?” Severus tapped a finger against his forearm, staring down at the children before him.
“No, sir,” Hermione spoke quietly. “It’s just that…” She looked down at her hands, her brows scrunched up together as if she were deep in thought. “Well, I’ve always noticed,” she took a heavy breath, raising her eyes to meet Severus’s own, “Well, sir, he doesn’t eat a lot. Especially when he’s upset about something.”
Severus raised his brows in surprise. “Would you care to elaborate, Ms Granger?”
“He’s never really eaten a lot, honestly,” said Hermione with a shrug, shifting her weight in her chair. “And that’s not usually concerning -- I mean, he is very skinny, you know -- but I’ve noticed that when he gets particularly in his head, it’s like he tries not to eat for as long as possible. Sometimes it can be quite scary.”
“Is there an example that comes to mind?” Severus continued to prompt.
Hermione nodded solemnly. “After Cedric’s death…He was particularly shaken. I mean, sir, anyone would be.” She ran a hand through her bushy hair, tugging it behind her ears. “But in those last days before term ended fourth year, he really couldn’t bring himself to do much of anything. It was like–” Severus watched her carefully try and pick out her words, shaking her head slightly as if revising her own sentence in her head. “We were all too overwhelmed with he-who-must-not-be-named’s return and the funeral we didn’t think much of it. But the graveyard really seemed to rattle him… Sir.” She added as an afterthought.
Severus inhaled sharply, “And you believe he’s becoming resistant to eating again?”
“It’s hard to say when he doesn’t…he doesn’t talk to us about things like that. But Sirius’s death devastated him,” -- she gestured to Ron -- “we’re both sure of that. And then to return to,” her face screwed up together, alight with fury, “To those people, I mean, he’s hardly been the same since.”
“By ‘those people’ I assume you refer to his aunt and uncle?” Severus remarked.
The pair nodded in unison.
“Has Mr Potter ever remarked on his home before?” He prodded.
Ron shook his head. “Not exactly. But we know he hates going there and that he asked Dumbledore a few years back if he could stay somewhere else.” He sighed, “But sir, for Harry to complain it must be pretty bad, he doesn’t seem to mind putting up with a lot.”
“Tell him about the bars, Ronald,” Hermione whispered harshly.
“Oh, right,” the boy glowered. “Back in second year my brothers and I went to pick him up since he hadn’t replied to my letters all summer and I was worried they were keeping them from him. When we got round his place there were bars on his window and I saw a lot of locks on his door like they were… uhm…” He cleared his throat, shifting in her chair. “...Keeping him in there or something.”
Severus bristled, narrowing his eyes as he nodded slightly. “And have either of you ever informed another professor of your concerns? Perhaps your Head of House?”
“Harry would never have let us.” Hermione shook her head fiercely with wide eyes. “I thought about going to Madam Pomfrey after he asked me how to cast a glamour, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it without his permission, sir.”
“Cast a glamour?” Severus could hardly conceal his surprise.
“And!” – Ron cut in – “Well, we thought Dumbledore knew. That’s what Harry seemed to think.”
“Does Mr Potter know that either of you are here now?” Severus mused.
Two more uneasy glances.
“No,” Ron scoffed. “He‘d kill us, sir.”
“But we’re worried because we know something is wrong,” Hermione sighed. “If he’s not talking to us about whatever he may be dealing with, he’s not talking to anyone. And now these meetings with Dumbledore he’s starting -- during a school year that is already supposed to be stressful-”
“-And all this ‘Chosen One’ crap from everyone,” Ron interrupted.
“We’re worried these stressors could overwhelm him.” Hermione threw her arms up in exasperation. “We know that Harry at least trusts you to some extent, sir, we’re really just hoping he’s talking to you about whatever is going on. Since apparently, he can’t talk to us.”
“Well,” Severus began, clearing his throat and recrossing his arms as he shifted slightly on his feet. “It may interest you to know that I have spoken with Mr Potter about his life while he resides with the Dursleys and, although he has been reluctantly forthcoming, he is willing to speak with me on the matter. I will say no more on the subject as that is his choice to disclose.”
The two students seemed to relax slightly, their shoulders dropping in relief.
“As for his eating habits,” he continued, “I have noted the issue and made it a priority to ensure his health. I have mentioned my concern to him before, but if you are as worried as you claim, Ms Granger, perhaps I can be more pressing.”
Hermione nodded, her brows drawn together in concentration. “T-Thank you, sir– It’s just that it’s hard to explain exactly… I’m worried about him, of course, but more worried about what could happen if he continues on without acknowledging that he needs time to grieve, not exactly worried about the present moment.”
“I understand,” Severus allowed himself a slight smile. “That makes perfect sense, Ms Granger.”
“Harry doesn’t ask for help,” Ron began, wringing his hands together nervously. “With anything, not just this stuff. He’s a great friend whenever someone’s going through something, like when ‘Mione and I were bickering about Draco-” he paused, cringing slightly in his seat. “He just doesn’t seem to get that it works both ways. We want to be there for him, he just makes it difficult sometimes.”
“I’m sure that Mr Potter has his reasons for his discrepancy. Do not feel down on yourself, Mr. Weasley, you are not entitled to his life no matter how close of friends you may be.” Severus tutted, lifting his head. “You must remember that he will choose to tell you what he wishes, if it’s something serious, you should allow him to come forth in his own time.”
“Yeah, sure,” said Ron, “But he’s talked to you, sir. It…It doesn’t make sense.”
“Ronald!” Hermione shushed him, kicking his leg with a loud thunk beneath the chair. “That doesn’t matter! At least he isn’t keeping it all down.”
“I acknowledge this may be difficult, Mr Weasley,” Severus raised his eyes skyward, “I agree with Ms Granger, he should attempt to work through whatever may be weighing on him, regardless of whom he chooses to speak to.” Severus tapped his arm for a moment before continuing. “I will continue to meet with Mr Potter frequently throughout the semester to discuss his eating habits and his relationship with his aunt and uncle, as he has already agreed to so. Do know, I appreciate your willingness to alert me of your concern,” Severus paused again to think, “In fact, if you could, would you tell him to meet me for detention tomorrow night at eight on the dot. Tell him no delays or wrong offices -- he will understand.”
Severus glanced between the two students who sat before him. “For the sake of appearances, if you so happen to be around your peers when you encounter Harry, do tell him he’ll be sorting out rotten flobberworms from good ones, to use in Potions, and that there’s no need to bring protective gloves.” He nodded, chuckling slightly to himself. “If there is nothing else, you are dismissed.”
As quickly as they entered, the two students fled, each muttering a quick “thank you professor” before scurrying down the narrow aisle between desks, rushing to the far door.
“Oh, before you leave,” Severus called out abruptly. Three points to each of you for summoning the courage to come here today. It takes a special kind of bravery to advocate for your friend"s wellbeing.”
***
Severus swept through the halls the following morning agitated and unnerved. He had managed little sleep the night before, his incessant mind returning endlessly to his encounter with the young Mr Weasley and Ms Granger. An uneasy pit had swelled in his stomach with his suspicions confirmed -- that he, and he alone, had somehow become Harry’s only outlet despite his efforts to remain at an arm"s distance from the boy for so many years.
The very thought was absurd. For Merlin’s sake, why it had been him and not Dumbledore or any other professor? Why had Harry elected to place his trust in him? He who was a servant of the Dark Lord, he who had deliberately tormented the boy for years, he who had doomed Lily and James to their graves in the first place. He let out a shaky breath at the thought, his hand absentmindedly falling to his left forearm where the Dark Mark stained his skin.
He moved swiftly down Hogwarts’ narrow passageways, sending terrified-looking first-years darting out of his way and his robes whipped around him. He knew he must look particularly grave, but Severus found he couldn’t care to correct his expression, continuing to bask in his gloominess.
He made it to the Great Hall as most of the student body began to file in, and he made his way to his seat at the staff table rather easily. Immediately, his eyes fell to Draco who was hunched over his plate at the Slytherin table, his arms wrapped around his middle and his brows drawn together in unease. Severus noted to himself to speak with the boy later, it had been too long since they had last met and it was clear Draco was not coping with the stress of his assignment from the Dark Lord well.
Sipping from his mug, Severus turned his attention to Harry. As was expected, the boy sat huddled with Ron and Hermione at his house table, the three young students peering over a large copy of the Prophet. They appeared to be engaged in a rather serious discussion, much to Severus’s disappointment as he would no doubt be berated with questions about the war from Harry that night in detention.
Without thinking, he let his attention fall to Harry’s plate-
“I hope you’re ready for a decent season of quidditch this year, Severus.” A voice tugged him from his thoughts. “Some real, healthy competition, I say.” Minerva smiled from her seat beside him, adorned in her usual luxurious green robes.
“Oh yes,” Severus replied easily. “I am sure your students will prove tolerable.”
“Tolerable! Ha,” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Well, we shall see who Potter chooses, I suppose. I shall know by tonight if I should wager my bets on Gryffindor.”
“Tonight?”
“Tryouts are today after all, if everything goes according to plan I don’t see why we shouldn’t have a team by tonight.” She smirked, a slight twinkle in her eye. “Honestly, Severus, as much as you try to keep poor Potter in detention for the rest of his life, I will fight you on it when he has practice. He’s a good seeker and I’m sure will prove an excellent captain.”
“I shall do my best to schedule his detentions for after practice, then,” he sipped gravely from his mug as she pat him on the shoulder, moving by him as she descended from the staff table.
“Go easy on him, Severus,” she called over her shoulder, “It could do him some good.”
I shall try.