Anachronism (10/16)
Monday, 2 August, 7:48 PM
Severus picked at his vegetables. What he'd eaten tasted flat and unappetising. He suspected the house-elf was punishing him for Potter's absence with terrible cooking.
"It's no use, you know," said Paracelsus. "He'll not come back unless you apologise to him."
After two days, Potter had yet to return to the house, even for dinner. Severus still didn't know where he was staying, but that didn't bother him as much as the fact that Potter didn't return for their customary meals. He had got used to having the boy around to talk to in the evenings and the portraits tended to get on his nerves. As if knowing that Harry wouldn't be around to converse with her, Emilie never showed up. Severus glanced at Paracelsus. "You assume it was my fault."
Phineas scoffed. "Of course we do. It was, wasn't it?"
It was. He couldn't deny it. But Potter would return-eventually. It was his house, after all.
Without Potter's aid, Severus finished the next batch of commissions and sent them on their way soon after dinner. With nothing else to occupy his time, he re-tested the blood he had obtained from the party. No one else's sample exhibited the strange bioluminescence he had observed after testing his and Endell's blood. Even more peculiar, his freshly-drawn sample glowed with half the brightness of his blood from his previous test, and the samples he had gathered from the Ministry showed no bioluminescence at all.
Although several potions which contained Armillaria glowed green, Severus could find no reference in the literature on why Armillaria bioluminesced in some potions, but not others. Why no one else had investigated the matter seemed bizarre to him. That was the problem with the wizarding world: too much acceptance and not enough questioning.
No matter, he would solve the mystery. Selecting six potions that were as identical as possible, three which glowed and three which did not, he prepared the cauldrons. All six of the potions could be brewed in about two hours time and they all required similar ingredient preparation and amounts, temperature, stirring methods and other specific conditions. There were differences, of course, that could not be avoided, but he had no other way of determining why Armillaria glowed.
There was no way he could complete all six on his own without using magic to aid his brewing, something which would throw off the results of his experiments, but he had no other way to complete his tests without waiting for Potter to return and join him in the lab again-something that might never happen. Although it would make his life considerably easier, he would not acquiesce to Potter.
Although Potter wasn't the best assistant, the lab felt oddly silent without him. The boy didn't talk much, but it was rare that an hour went by without a question or two, and the thunk of a knife against the board was a nice backdrop noise to the work of stirring. Severus supposed there was no point in dwelling on it now. He cast Potter from his mind and turned his attention back to brewing.
Using magic to stir the other cauldrons while he focused on one at a time, he attempted to give each as much hands on attention as possible but it was difficult, especially since some required far more work than others. They all glowed bright green by the time he finished and, as he examined the results, each of the six was a perfect example of that particular potion. The Befuddlement Draught was a bit brighter than Severus had seen it before, but he had spent the least amount of time stirring that directly and-
Of course! All of these potions required high levels of magic, and, the more magic cast, the more the Armillaria glowed. Moving over to the least bright potion, Severus cast spell after spell until the Armillaria's green was as brilliant as the first.
But what did it mean? Despite the belief of many fervent Death Eaters, magical ability did not vary among individuals. Severus knew he was powerful in his ability, but he doubted he had more raw power than Potter, any of the Malfoys, or even the Weasleys. Endell's genius in magic had been due to his inventiveness and willingness rather than magical strength. Moreover, Severus's blood's reaction was declining with time, and, if it were a representation of natural power, his magic was draining too, but it wasn't.
Just as he had suspected earlier, he and Endell had both been poisoned. There was no other reason to explain why they both had the same bizarre reaction in their blood. Either they'd taken the same poison-built up over months to ensure levels high enough to cause such a huge reaction-or the cure had required high and regular levels of magically complex potions. The 'T. Potion 5' he had prescribed himself had too many unrecognisable ingredients for him to know if that was responsible. He knew it contained his blood and Tegmark flowers, but nothing more.
Sometimes it seemed as though for every answer he uncovered, ten more questions came along with it.
By the time he had finished cleaning his lab, it was well into the early hours of the morning. Severus retired to his bedroom after checking to be sure Potter hadn't returned home.
Stretching out on the bed, Severus picked up his copy of Wuthering Heights. Like Heathcliff, he had taken revenge for the sins of the parents on the child. Just like Heathcliff, it had only ended badly for him. Punishing Harry for James and Lily had done nothing but bring him misery, and he no longer needed to do it to maintain his disguise, so why had he done it? He had no explanation for himself other than a jealousy that had lasted all these years afterward.
Flipping through the pages, he came to rest on Heathcliff's reaction to Catherine's death-one of his favourite parts in the book, especially when he'd been younger. He had felt Heathcliff's otherworldly despair on the night Lily died. There, near the middle of the page was Heathcliff's impassioned speech in which he had cried, 'I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always-take any form-drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!'
Shooting over to the edge of the bed, Severus hauled up his outer robes and searched through them for the scrap of paper. Pulling it out he re-read the words: The truth-it is unutterable! On the other side, the number sequence: 11-3-20-20-14-2-3-4-11-9-7-21-14-5-12-15-1-4-17-10-11-3-6-14-5-12-16-9-9-19.
Fetching a blank scroll, he copied the numbers out and tried various sequences. At first he thought the sequence began with 'it is unutterable', but after hours of trying, he had not uncovered the code. He paced about the room, muttering the line in his head over and over again. Perhaps he should find the next instance of the word 'truth' and start there?
Yes, there it was! Not until he started with 'I cannot live...', the very next line, and applied a new number to each introduced letter did a sensible pattern emerge. When each number written on the parchment had its own letter, the sequence read: H-A-R-R-Y-C-A-N-H-E-L-P-Y-O-U-F-I-N-D-W-H-A-T-Y-O-U-S-E-E-K Harry can help you find what you seek.
How could he have been so stupid? Before he nearly died, he had placed Wuthering Heights on the bedside table in his bedroom with the expectation that the book would immediately come to mind as a key to the code. It was his favourite bloody book! He'd not read it in ages, but he should have remembered that line. Even worse, he had known that he would act this way if he recovered with memory loss, and had attempted to warn himself of the dangers of dismissing Harry. Perhaps that was why everyone pestered him about his relationship with the boy? He'd known he would reject Potter, and had taken every single step to ensure that it wouldn't be easy.
Severus had always known he had been wrong to treat Potter the way he did, but never had the full implications settled on him as they did now. He rubbed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall to stare at the ceiling. He had been so careful to protect Harry from everyone-even from himself. Maybe that was why he'd hidden the truth about his illness from himself. If he were forced to rely on Harry to gain answers, he would remain in his company rather than leaving.
He looked down at the parchment in his hands. Harry can help you find what you seek. Not 'may' or more importantly, not 'will'. He had known Harry had a breaking point and if pushed that far, Harry (no matter how patient he was), would refuse to offer him any aid.
He needed Harry back. If he was to solve this puzzle of his past, he required the boy's aid. There was no way around the fact; it was what he had wanted, even if he had no memory of ever wanting it.
Wednesday, 4 August, 6:25 PM
When the chime sounded, Severus dropped everything. He even left the Papio Potion on the fire, even though he knew it would be ruined if he stayed away too long. Only he and Harry had permission to enter through the Floo. Either Harry had just returned home, or he'd returned earlier and had invited a guest.
Arriving in the foyer, he found Harry hanging up his travel cloak. Without knowing Harry, he had no way of guessing what had prompted the return. Had he got over his anger? Or was he refusing to be ejected from his own house, even by self-isolation?
Severus asked, "Did you get my message about the sleeping potion?"
"Yes," said Harry, without glancing at Severus.
"Do you regularly take sleeping potions?"
Harry turned around, his eyes narrowed, his face a mask that reminded Severus all too much of his own. Hard eyes stared at Severus with a coldness so intense, he knew more than Stinging Hexes would be cast his way should he try to touch Harry.
"I know what you're doing," said Harry, "and it won't work. I don't doubt that you'll heal me. You've always been capable of ripping me to pieces in one breath, and jumping in front of me to protect me from a spell in the next. Showing me that you have the ability to protect me doesn't make up for being an arsehole."
"Am I supposed to turn a blind eye when you do something dangerous?" He could never stop protecting Harry-it had become instinctual for him.
"No." Harry shook his head slowly. "I don't mind you protecting me. But contrary to what you might think, I don't need a protector, father figure, or teacher. I need a partner, but you've not behaved like one at all. You treated me like rubbish for no reason other than because you could. You called me names, held me down, and sexually assaulted me on my birthday, when all I did was tell you how much I wanted to have sex with you." His jaw clenched. "You will treat me with respect-as an equal-or I'll not have anything to do with you outside of work."
It was such a simple, basic ultimatum, he could see no reason to argue. He would have expected the very same himself had their roles been reversed. Besides, even if Harry refused to be anything more than a co-worker, Severus was still obtaining what he most needed. "Very well."
Harry pulled a parchment out of one of his robe pockets. "The Weasley twins gave me a list of their commissions. I can't brew them on my own. I'll need your help creating the potions." He glanced at Severus expectantly.
Ah, there it was. Harry had returned, not to renew their relationship, but because he wanted Severus's aid. Many men had sought to use him in his life, but never Harry. After how subservient Harry had been, it was a surprise, but not exactly an unwelcome one. Being desired for his usefulness as a Potions Master made far more sense than being wanted for sex. He could not deny him, not when he needed him as well. Severus nodded. "I'll help you."
Nodding, Harry turned and marched off towards the potions lab, Severus following. "The one that they're most interested in is the hair dye. They've been trying to develop a hair dye that changes colour based on moods. When people are happy, it works perfectly, but as soon as anger or sadness strikes, the colour takes forever to change. One of their test subjects got in a row with his girlfriend last week while wearing the product, and his hair is still dark red. They think it has to do with the fact that darker emotions show up in darker colours and it's easier to go from light to dark than from dark to light."
"Is the potion topical?" asked Severus as he caught up, and kept pace with Harry's quick step.
"Yes. They'd love for us to develop one that can be ingested, but they weren't sure how to target specific types of hair. Some people liked the idea of their eyebrows and body hair changing colours, but most people wanted the changes to be restricted to scalp hair. That's another thing they want us to work on. It's hard because, as you know, hair is dead. Not only do we need an agent to force the potion out through the hair, but we need the agent to discriminate between types of hair." He shrugged before he pushed open the door of the lab. "It may be impossible."
Severus set about clearing the remains of his previous work as Harry spread out scrolls on a worktable. As Severus cleaned out the cauldrons, he asked, "How important is it that eyebrows or beards don't change?"
"I don't know. Why? You have an idea?"
Running a finger over his lips as he thought, Severus said, "We could force the potion to only activate above the neck. It would flow to the edges of the hair, but only dye hair that had follicles planted in the head. It would dye the eyebrow and other facial hair as well, but it may be the best we can do. Targeted effects are accomplished with healing potions." Harry opened his mouth to interrupt, but Severus carried on, "I know, different class of potions, but we used cosmetics to heal spattergroit, so there's no reason we can't use the ideas behind healing potions to fix cosmetics."
"Let's see...." Harry wandered over to the shelves of bases. "I think a mineral base is our best option. Silicate perhaps?"
"Yes, let's start with kaolinite," suggested Severus. "It's stable and works best at low temperature brewing, which would be ideal for this type of potion."
Selecting the jar from the shelf, Harry carried it to the work table nearest the largest fire pit. Severus moved toward him on his way to collect ingredients himself, but Harry shifted away, as if he couldn't stand to even be within ten feet of Severus. He kept his physical distance all throughout the brewing session, avoiding Severus's eyes as well. Although he didn't hesitate to ask and answer questions, give suggestions, or announce the potion states, he only spoke when absolutely necessary and even then, used abrupt, concise words.
The distance Harry kept between them didn't bother Severus too much. It would just take some time to get used to. In any case, Harry had returned home, and that was all that mattered.
Friday, 6 August, 9:54 PM
When Harry didn't show up for dinner yet again, Severus acted as if it didn't matter to him whether Potter attended or not. Paracelsus bemoaned the 'fate of the house' while Phineas just said, "You always have to make the same mistakes over and over again."
A Silencing Spell gave Severus the peace he required, and he ate while poring over the notes Harry had given him about all the potions they'd developed since forming their company. He hoped there were clues that could give him an idea about the 'T. Potion 5', but there was nothing. Had Harry investigated the T. Potion series? It wasn't mentioned in any of the scrolls Severus sorted through, but he had been given so many, and it seemed unlikely that Harry could remember everything.
After dinner, he found Harry in the office of the potions lab, doing paperwork. Still wearing his Auror robes, he glanced up once when Severus walked in, then returned to his work.
"I need," Severus told him, "to see the information you have on the T. Potion series."
The quill stopped mid-sentence and Harry lifted his head, staring at Severus with an unrecognizable expression in his eyes. For a heavy moment, they simply stared at each other.
This was getting nowhere. Severus tried again. "You do have information, don't you?"
Setting down his quill as though he suspected it might explode at any moment, Harry leant back in his chair and folded his hands on his lap.
In a controlled tone, Harry said, "Here's how this will work. I've agreed to be your co-worker. I've not agreed to more."
He knew Harry was angry about what had happened between them, but he'd not thought he'd destroyed their relationship to the point where Harry wouldn't help him at all outside of the potions lab. If Harry had hated the sex so much, why had he allowed it to happen? "You-"
Harry raised his hand, stopping Severus. "This isn't to say that I'm unwilling to give you the information you desire, but that it comes with a price. If you want to know something, ask me a question. For each question you ask, you'll take off an article of clothing in exchange for the answer."
He would never strip naked while Potter wore clothes. Never! "That's ridiculous!"
Raising an eyebrow, Harry said, "I didn't say that to you when you told me to strip in front of the portraits."
Severus scoffed. "That was different."
"Why? Because I'm supposed to naturally strip on command? I'm not your slave. I've been careful to treat you like a wounded, wild animal." He held up a hand, ticking off each comment with a finger. "No fast movements, let him feel in control, show deference when he gets angry, display intentions clearly.... I see now what a load of rubbish that plan was. Even Buckbeak gave me respect when I gave it to him, and he let me ride him. Instead, you just took it as an invitation to stomp all over me.
"Either apologise completely and sincerely for being a complete bastard, or strip for your answers. The choice is yours." Harry sat as still, stony, and cold as a marble statue, waiting for an answer.
The little shit. He had trained him too well-there was no way the boy he had known at Hogwarts would have dreamt up such a situation entirely on his own. Both options were abhorrent and Harry had to know that. "I'll agree to remove my clothes in exchange for receiving answers to my questions, provided that you do the same." At least if they were both naked, he wouldn't be as vulnerable.
His eyes never leaving Severus's, Harry shook his head. "I have no questions I want to ask you."
"You've no questions to ask the man you claim to love?"
"As you have so often stated," said Harry with a quirk of his mouth, "you're not him. Not now, and you might not ever be. Besides, I already know all the basics about you. As for anything beyond that, why should I care when you've made it very clear you have no desire for anything else?"
"I've never entirely discounted the notion."
"You rarely entirely discount anything. I'll wager you've not completely dismissed the idea of killing me should it prove to be necessary."
He had argued the same to Narcissa, but now, as he gazed at the bastard with eyes as hard as his own, he still could not dredge up the anger he would've felt if anyone else tried to force him naked. Even at his worst, even during the times when he had hurt Harry, he had never wanted him dead. Bruised, bleeding, crying, yes, but never dead. It was the primary reason he had been intent on suicide.
A world without Harry was not a world that he wished to be a part of.
"I may have lost my memories," he said quietly. "But there are some parts of me that will never change."
Harry's eyes softened. Standing, he walked around the desk to pause before Severus. His exquisite eyes had a shadow upon them-a look of such haunted longing that Severus wanted to reach out and stroke the back of his neck until he turned into a melted puddle of happiness.
"There's too much that has," said Harry. "Sometimes, I don't recognise you at all." Softly shaking his head, he turned and left the room, the door shutting behind him.
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