Chapter Four of 'Valerian'- A Light Lunch

[lomonaaeren]

Chapter Three.

Chapter One.

Title: Valerian (4/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Severus and Draco/Astoria, past Harry/Draco
Content Notes: Angst, manipulation, past infidelity
Rating: R
Summary: Harry dated Draco until Draco fell in love with Astoria, and never really got over his broken heart. Now Draco is getting married, and wants Harry to construct a unique magical gift for his bride on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. As Harry labors on his creation, telling himself not to be petty, Severus Snape watches to make sure that he doesn’t mess it up—and also, soon, for other reasons.
Author’s Notes: Several people are angsty and not at their nicest here. Don’t read if that bothers you. Also, this is a sequel to my short fic “Aconite,” which you should probably read first, and while this will be much longer than that story, it will be irregularly updated.

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Four—A Light Lunch

“This is fine, sir—I mean, Severus.”

Severus studied Potter with narrow eyes as he sat down across from him at the table outside the newest restaurant in Fantastic Alley. Potter blinked at him and shifted his weight a little in the seat. Both chairs and tables were made of birch wood and, as far as Severus was concerned, more upscale than a place he needed to take Potter. But he had accepted that he would find this lunch stressful no matter what truths he discovered, so he had chosen a place where he could at least approve of the food and the ambience.

“Why does it give you so much trouble to speak my first name when I have requested that of you?” Severus asked, and waved his wand to Summon the menus.

Potter waited until the winged menus had landed on the table to answer. “I’ve never thought of you that way. And the last time we interacted was—unpleasant for both of us. I was trying to keep it polite.”

Severus grimaced. Yes, the last time they’d interacted before Malfoy Manor had been his trial. He supposed he couldn’t blame Potter for attempting a neutral distance given what he had said then. “I wish to start things on a different footing now.”

He got one glimpse of narrowed green eyes, absolute disbelief, and then it vanished. “All right. What did you want to talk about?”

“Let us order first.”

Potter nodded and glanced at the menu. For a moment, his mouth tightened, but then it vanished just like every other emotional reaction Severus had managed to pull out of him. “I’ll be ordering the tomato bisque soup, then,” he said, and folded up his menu, absently pulling a crinkling wing out of the fold when it almost got caught.

Severus narrowed his eyes. “That comes in a small bowl, Potter. Will it be enough for your lunch?”

Potter nodded. “I usually eat a light lunch when I’m working this hard. It’s better for my magic if my breakfast and dinner are the heavy meals.”

No lie sounded, but Severus thought he knew why when he picked over the words in his head. “You usually eat a light lunch, but you weren’t necessarily planning to today.” He leaned forwards. “Tell me, Potter, what is the problem? Eating lunch here, eating lunch with me, or eating?”

Potter tightened his hands on the edge of the table for a moment. Then he said, “Here. The menu’s pricy enough that I’m choosing the cheapest thing I can so I have enough money to last the rest of the week, all right?” His eyes had hardened, and after a second, he took his hands off the table and dug his fingernails into his wrist.

Severus blinked for a moment. He honestly had enough money now—some of it made from potions, some from guilty gifts after the dunderheads of the Order had realized he was fighting on their side, and some from blackmail—that that particular problem hadn’t occurred to him.

And it shouldn’t have occurred to Potter, he realized after a moment of thought. “You inherited a fortune, Potter. Blow through it already?”

“Something like that.”

But the man’s eyes darted away from him, and Severus didn’t think before he leaned across the table and grasped Potter’s wrist. Feeling the hammering of the pulse against his fingers told him the truth better than his Legilimency, which wasn’t working at the moment with Potter’s careful choice of words. “Tell me what happened.”

“Why? Si—Severus, we’ve never been friends. I respect you enough not to want to burden you with sob stories. You ought to respect yourself at least that much.”

This wasn’t the Potter Severus had known, was nothing like the Potter Severus had known. He’d thought differently, for a moment, seeing his expressions and hearing the anger in his voice. But now he knew. Potter had tucked it away again. He’d probably deployed the anger at all only in a bid to keep Severus from pushing further.

“You’re going to order, right?” Potter asked, his eyes traveling from Severus’s hold on his wrist to his face.

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Two sandwiches, one with goat’s cheese and tomatoes, one with chicken and tomatoes,” he told the menu. Both of them spread their wings and rose from the table, skimming away.

“You’re not getting anything to drink?”

“I do not generally drink in the middle of the day, Potter,” Severus replied, and leaned back a little as a small pot of tea appeared on the table, accompanied by glasses and a plate full of enough sugar, lemon slices, and small cups of milk to make the metal almost sag. “This will be enough for me.”

Potter looked away for a second, then nodded and started to prepare his own tea.

“I still would like to know the tale of your dissipated fortune,” Severus added casually when some minutes had passed by and he and Potter had done nothing but make their tea to their own liking and drink.

*

He would think it’s as ridiculous as Hermione did.

There were times that Harry thought Hermione was right, when he’d spent enough time listening to her. But on the other hand, he could never erase the guilt of what he had done to Draco. Donating most of his money to projects and organizations that helped victims of emotional abuse, like that he had inflicted on Draco, would at least help other people.

Harry would have told Snape about that if it was just that Snape would think he was ridiculous, because that wasn’t worth keeping the truth to himself. But he didn’t know how much Draco had told Snape about their past relationship, and he didn’t want to expose a secret Draco wanted to keep quiet.

“It wasn’t very interesting, what I did with it,” Harry said. “It made sense at the time.” He looked up as a tray floated towards their table. It had a small bowl of his soup on it and Snape’s sandwiches. Harry waited for Snape to take his own plate before he lifted off the bowl and reached for his spoon.

For some reason, Snape had two plates. Harry was ready to shrug and dismiss that until Snape put one of the sandwiches on the second plate and sent it skidding towards Harry with a flick of his fingers.

Harry stared at him. “What are you doing?”

“Feeding you. Since you don’t have enough money to do it yourself.” Snape flicked his glance up and down Harry in much the same way that he’d moved his fingers. “And you apparently haven’t been taking care of yourself in other respects, either.”

Harry rolled his eyes and began eating his soup, leaving the sandwich where it was. Snape could pack it up and take it home with him for later if he really wasn’t hungry now. “You don’t understand me, sir.”

“I have asked you—”

“Severus, then. But it’s still true.” The soup was creamy and curled around his tongue. Harry sighed in satisfaction before he could stop himself, and Snape’s glare turned smug. “This is a good place to eat,” Harry added in as neutral a tone as he could, and sipped his tea.

“You will eat the sandwich because I ordered it for you,” Snape said. He was making quick work of his own meal, swift, neat bites that Harry envied. Despite Draco’s best efforts, Harry’s table manners were still deplorable. “The one with the goat’s cheese, in fact. It looks as if you could use some protein.”

Harry didn’t allow the words to strike home this time. Getting angry at people only made him abuse them, and Snape was Draco’s friend, or at least ally. “No, thanks, Severus,” he said, and made sure to slurp his soup loudly as he finished. Snape was less likely to want to spend time with him if he really showed off his lack of manners.

In fact, though, Snape’s eyes just narrowed to slits. “You are surely not being so impolite as to refuse an offered gift, Mr. Potter?”

Harry paused, caught. Shit. It was possible that Snape saying something about this to Draco could get him tossed out of the Manor and off the project of making the wedding gift for Astoria, and deprive Draco of something he wanted. Harry sighed and lowered the bowl. “No. But you didn’t need to do it.”

“Think of it as a trade, then. Eat the sandwich, and tell me what happened to your fortune in return.”

Harry stared at him. “Somehow that makes me think that you’re getting two things you want, and I’m getting nothing.” The point would have been more impressive if his stomach hadn’t rumbled a minute later.

Snape smirked at him, and Harry sighed and ate the sandwich. Snape watched him as if he wanted to make sure that Harry ate the whole thing, but the minute Harry was done, he leaned intently forwards, and then his attitude made sense. He’d been watching for the moment when Harry could talk again.

Harry sighed and said, “I donated most of my money. That’s true. I chose victims that I thought needed it and no one else was helping enough. I’m sorry that it’s not some deep dark secret,” he couldn’t help adding when he saw the way Snape’s eyes had narrowed.

*

He’s telling the truth. How can he be telling the truth and yet be going out of the way to keep the secret so—secret?

Severus just stared at Potter, and found no more answers than he had before he invited him to lunch. At least now he knew that the man wouldn’t faint on him from performing intense magic and then eating almost nothing. Severus was, in fact, tempted to order pudding and force it down Potter’s throat if necessary.

Not really because Potter needed it. Just because spiting him was an instinct so old that Severus found himself fighting to keep his mouth shut.

“Is there anything else that you wanted to ask me?” Potter was tapping his wand against a small crystal band that encircled his wrist, which lit up with numbers as Severus watched. “Only I should get back to the Manor gardens soon, so that I can take advantage of the light.”

“To make your sketches?” Severus made no motion to stand. This was an elegant enough restaurant that no one would try to chase them away before they wished to leave.

Not that Potter seemed to appreciate the ambience, of course, judging from the way he kept looking at the band on his wrist instead of the tables or the teapot or the winged menus that hovered nearby. “No. I need to use the light as a component in one of the spells I’m going to try. To get rid of some of the patches of ground burned by the Dark Arts,” he added, probably because he felt Severus’s eyes on him.

“You cannot use light as a component of a spell,” Severus said.

“Oh, come on, sir. I mean, Severus. You must know better than that. For example, the Draught of Peace is twice as potent if brewed under the light of a full moon. What is that if not using the light as a component of—”

“What.”

Potter paused, his fingers curling around the handle of his teacup but remaining motionless. “What?”

“The Draught of Peace is not twice as potent if brewed under the light of a full moon.” Severus could feel shards of ice crunching in his chest, and knew himself well enough to recognize the rage it would break forth as soon. “You are lying, Potter.” That was not something Potter had got from the Half-Blood Prince’s book. And every other insight he had into Potions had come from cheating, Severus was sure.

Potter studied him with narrowed eyes as if he didn’t understand the reaction. “Yes, it is, sir.” He didn’t bother correcting himself this time. “I mean, it must be common knowledge, if I could notice it. I don’t even brew the Draught of Peace that often. And moonstone is the first ingredient placed in the cauldron and it’s used twice . Why wouldn’t the light of the full moon double the potency? It seems obvious to me.”

Severus just did some more staring. After a moment, he managed to find his voice. “Did Draco come up with that particular—innovation?”

Potter nodded eagerly, his face transfigured as if with a Cheering Charm. “Yes, of course! I told you that he was behind the foundation of everything I do in my business. He could have done much more magnificent things than I do, but I can’t blame him for not wanting to make a go of it. I know that he wouldn’t want making things tainted by the fact that I can do the same.” Potter smiled, a bit wistfully.

Severus couldn’t stand it anymore. For one thing, if Draco knew this, it was knowledge that he had never bothered to pass onto Severus despite letting him have free run of the ancient Malfoy library. And for another, Severus had had enough of Potter’s uncomplicated worship of Draco.

He slipped into Potter’s mind with Legilimency.

Or he tried. He seemed to crash into a mass of splinters, which hurt him so badly that he shouted before he thought better of it. He caught a brief glimpse, before Potter’s mind ejected him, of shattered memories, leaning barriers, smoking ruins littered with broken glass.

He opened his eyes and saw Potter holding his hand over his nose, which had begun to bleed. Severus said nothing through his own pounding headache, but his death glare demanded answers. What kind of Occlumency had that been?

“I think this lunch is through,” Potter said, his voice clipped. He tossed a few Galleons on the table—enough to pay for the soup and the sandwich he’d eaten—and stood, turning away to face the edge of the small railing around the restaurant. Sparks crackled and danced on his skin.

Severus stood up. “Potter—”

“Do not, Snape.”

Severus froze. The sparks on Potter’s skin had risen and were circling Severus’s head, orbiting close to his ears, their buzzing more threatening than anything he had heard since the Dark Lord’s death. And Potter had turned, and Severus finally saw the anger on his face that he had been trying to arouse. It was a killing anger.

Potter took a step towards him, his lowered voice the only concession to the fact that they were in public. Well, that and perhaps the size of the sparks that had arrived to hover next to Severus’s ears and neck. Severus had no doubt that they could hurt him, but they weren’t large enough to attract notice.

“I could kill you now,” Potter breathed. “Did you know that? I could order this magic to flow into your brain and burn you to death.”

Severus could think of nothing to say. He had wanted this reaction, but not—focused on him. Although who Potter should get angry at when he was staying away from Draco and Astoria, and Severus was not about to accompany him anywhere near his friends, was a question.

Potter smiled at him. His grin was violent enough to make Severus try reaching for his wand, but the spark near his hand burned it. “Yeah,” Potter said quietly. “I accept that Draco wanted you to watch over me, but anything other than that? It ends now. No more. I’m not calling you by your first name or going out to lunch with you again or letting you read my mind.”

“I only wanted to—”

“It doesn’t matter. You nearly robbed me of one of Draco’s secrets. You had no right.”

Severus clenched his teeth as he began to understand the nature of this sudden awakening. Potter hadn’t become angry because Severus had tried to read his mind without permission, or even because of the pain. He had done it because Severus might have seen something Draco had probably told Potter to keep silent about.

“I know of no other wizard who could burn me with your magic the way you say you can,” Severus said, for something to say, because he was trying to find his footing again.

“Yeah, well, it’s probably good that we don’t have more wizards like me.” Potter snapped his fingers, and the sparks zoomed back to him and melted into his skin. Some of the other diners were eyeing them strangely now, probably trying to work out what they were doing. Potter didn’t seem to notice or care. “Anyway. Stay away from me from now on, Snape.”

He strode rapidly across the terrace outside the restaurant and Apparated the second he was past the wards. Severus studied the place where he had been.

Potter’s request was ridiculous, of course. Severus had to figure out why Potter had developed into this man who refused to stand up for himself, who defended a lover he hadn’t had a relationship with in years, and who could kill with a few bursts of wandless magic.

But in the meantime, Severus could start with small annoyances.

He replaced the Galleons Potter had put on the table with his own money, paying for everything, and dropped the coins into his own pocket. Returning them to Potter would make for enough of an opening gambit.

*

Harry groaned softly and leaned against the wall of his lab. The Legilimency headache, from twice in one fucking day, was tearing his skull to shreds. He Summoned a painkilling potion and drank it down without flinching from the taste, something that almost never happened.

But he had achieved what he needed to achieve. He had kept Snape from seeing and misunderstanding the memory that Draco had pulled up that morning.

Everyone would misunderstand that memory. Harry had never let Ron and Hermione see it, of course, but he had described it to them, and he’d had a hard time keeping Ron from murdering Draco. And Harry knew, objectively, that it looked pretty bad from the outside.

But they didn’t understand. They didn’t grasp how long Draco had been suffering, thinking about leaving Harry but worrying about what would happen to him if he did. He honestly had thought he could teach Harry how to love. It wasn’t his fault that he had been wrong.

Harry paused at the tail end of that thought. Speaking of things that aren’t other people’s fault. Snape had no idea what you were guarding when he tried to get into your head.

Harry sighed. No, he didn’t. Which meant that Harry had to make it up to him somehow. But letting him see the memory was out of the question, and so was calling him by his first name or paying whatever weird game Snape had decided they were playing. Harry had to do something that paid the debt created by threatening to kill him (really, he chided himself) and then put distance between them.

A gift would probably do nicely. A gift that drew on the theories Draco had been the first one to suggest and would flummox Snape with how well Harry had managed to sense his magic during the short time they’d interacted.

A flummoxed Snape was one that would stay away from him. He wouldn’t want Harry to see him flustered in any way whatsoever.

Harry smiled, and walked over to his workbench to gather up one of the small crystal balls that had had all the time it needed to collect moonlight. This would also be a marvelous illustration for Snape of how light could be a component in a spell.

*

“I wish that you had told me, Draco.”

Draco rolled over slowly on his bed and blinked at Severus. “Told you what?”

Severus tried not to roll his eyes as he glanced around the bedroom. He was all for a certain level of comfort, but Draco had taken comfort straight past that and into the realms of the absurd. The walls dripped gold, tapestries, mirrors, and lamps, and the ceiling had enough chandeliers that Severus didn’t know which ones were actually casting light.

The bed itself was a single huge, round mass of softness that more resembled a gigantic cushion than anything else. The covers and sheets were done in grey, something Severus had thought restrained until he touched them. The silken nature of them, slipping with a whisper through his fingers, more than made up for their color.

“Told me that you had discovered how to make the Draught of Peace more potent when brewed by the light of a full moon.” Severus removed his eyes from the display of wealth and faced Draco. “You ought to have known I would be intrigued by such a discovery.”

“What are you talking about?”

Severus sighed. “You left so much else behind at Hogwarts. I would have thought you would have left behind the childish habit of pretending that you do not recognize the truth when it parades in front of you.”

“I didn’t discover any method of making the Draught of Peace more potent, Severus. Did you? How wonderful! Are you going to share it with me?”

Severus stared at him. He had been sure—he knew Potter had not lied to him—

And then a spasm of irritation gripped him. Of course. The ability of a Legilimens to detect lies was limited in the same way as Veritaserum was: it could be fooled by deception if the person speaking it honestly believed it to be the truth. And Potter gave Draco all the credit for his own work already.

Severus should have known.

But in truth, it had been easier to believe that Draco would keep something like this from him than to believe that Potter had made such a significant Potions discovery on his own.

“I have only recently begun to test the method,” Severus murmured. “I don’t yet know for certain if it works. I would appreciate it if you didn’t spread the word around.”

Draco sighed a little and leaned back on the bed, the animation going out of his face. It made Severus realize how blank-faced he was most of the time, even when he was most involved in planning his own wedding. “Of course not, Severus. You must realize that I wouldn’t steal the credit.”

“I am not so much worried about you stealing the credit as I am about you being accidentally responsible for a death or a coma.”

Draco laughed. “Of course. There are fools who would try and make the Draught of Peace that way even when it hasn’t been tested, aren’t there?” He shook his head. “Well, no fear. I’ll keep the secret until you’re ready to announce it.”

Severus nodded distantly and then turned and left the bedroom before he made some truly unfortunate comment on Draco’s taste.

He descended the steps with a storm churning inside him, but he had no idea how it would find expression. Pressing Potter on the matter of Draco would do less than no good. He doubted he could invite the man to lunch again and have him accept the invitation, unless he pretended it was about wedding business, and then Potter would probably refuse to come because he would think it wasn’t about the gift. He had rather strict boundaries about intruding on the rest of Draco’s life.

The storm growing inside Severus grew worse at that.

Merlin knew how many other Potions secrets or different, casually-discovered kinds of magic Potter hid. And they were going to waste. The injustice of that bit with sharp fangs at Severus’s soul.

He couldn’t intimidate Potter into telling him the truth, and reading his mind hadn’t worked. That meant he would have to—go the slow route. Lull Potter into trust, into opening up to him the way that, right now, Potter had no reason to.

Severus smiled slowly. Once, such a course would have been so offensive to him that he would never have considered it. But he was far more than the broken man he had been when he taught at Hogwarts, and hatred of Potter for the sake of his name and his resemblance to his father alone no longer controlled Severus’s actions.

Think of it as recovering secrets Potter should not be allowed to hoard all to himself. Think of it as getting past that blasted stubbornness. Think of it as revenge on Draco for his horrible décor.

Severus could lie to himself as well as to others. However he needed to accomplish this, he was going to do it.