Things were quiet in the Potter’s home. Without Harvey running around, things were normally very still during the day until James would return home from work. Lily would normally find ways to occupy her day; cleaning, cooking, gardening, topping up the common household potions, visiting friends. The normal things that a housewife would do.
Lily had been happy with her life, never needing anything more. After all, since James’ parents had died—not long after Lily and James had married—the Potter fortune meant that neither of them had to work. James had become an Aurora after You-Know-Who had vanished; he needed something to do. But Lily wanted to be a full-time Mum, but now both of her boys were at Hogwarts, and she found herself in desperate need of a distraction.
Lily hadn’t spoken to Harry in three months. January, she had given him space, knowing that he would need time to work things out, and her crowding him wouldn’t have helped. February, Lily had hoped, would be a time when they could reconnect. She had gone to his quidditch match—James insisted on coming with her—and she had given a letter to Harvey to pass on to Harry. It had been with hope that Harry might reach out to her so that she might find a way to begin to mend their bond. But he never did. And now March; it was the third week in March, and Lily hadn’t heard a peep. Harvey’s monthly letter had arrived on the first Monday of the month, but nothing from Harry. She again went to his Quidditch match; James came too, but no sign that he wanted to talk to her.
It seemed to be hopeless. Unsure of what to do, Lily had tried asking Sirius to talk to Harry, but he had surprised her by refusing. Sirius had claimed that it was up to her to fix this. Lily had wanted to argue with him; parents should work as a team. But it wasn’t Sirius’ fault that their son hated her; it was hers.
Lily made herself a cup of tea and walked out into the garden. The sun was shining, and she tried to tell herself that a day in the sun would be good for her. Lily had laid out a blanket on the lawn, grabbed a few pillows and grabbed a book to read. She spent half an hour trying to read and drinking her tea. She closed the book as she finished the last of her tea and realised it wasn’t going to happen.
The back door opened and made Lily turn around. She hadn’t been expecting anyone. James stepped out into the backyard; he looked tense.
“You’re home early,” she said.
He sighed. “I left early.”
“Any particular reason?” she asked.
James walked across the grass and took a seat beside her on the blanket. Lily watched him as he slid himself right beside her. It wasn’t only her relationship with Harry that had been strained. She and James had barely spoken since their argument. She couldn’t remember the last time she had kissed him.
“I have been distracted. Thought it best that I come home and deal with what’s bothering me than go through mind-numbing paperwork,” he said.
Lily nodded. “The paperwork will still be there on Monday.”
He smiled. “That is Monday’s problem.”
“And what is today’s?”
“Today’s is you.”
Lily frowned.
“That didn’t sound quite right. What I mean is that you have been on my mind. Everything that has happened with Harry has created a rift between us, one that I know is partially my fault.” He reached over and took Lily’s hand. “I want to fix it if I can.”
Lily squeezed his fingers. It had hurt being cut off from him. Both of them were hurting in their own way, and instead of doing what a husband and wife should, they had both shut down.
“Do you think we can?” she asked.
It wasn’t just recent events that had caused the rift between them. It went back all the way to the moment she slept with Sirius. The one moment that she wishes she could take back while at the same time having no regrets about it because she had Harry.
“I think that we both have things to work on,” said James. “I have some old feelings that I need to work on letting go of. There is plenty of crap that I need to make up for, with you and with Harry.”
Lily smiled. Hearing him say that he wanted to fix things with Harry had been something she had waited to hear for fifteen years.
“I probably also need to sit down and have a proper conversation with Sirius,” he added.
Lily brought their joined hands into her lap. “He would love that.”
“You sure about that? I have been an asshole for fifteen years.”
Lily nodded. “He still calls you his best friend. Not once has he ever held anything against you.”
“Even after the way I treated Harry?” he asked.
Lily pursed her lips. “Okay. Maybe there were one or two things, but you know Sirius, he doesn’t hold a grudge.”
James sighed. “No. But apparently, I do.”
They both lapsed into silence. Lily held onto James’ hand, running her fingers across the back of it. She couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of hope. It felt warm in her chest, and she felt like she knew what had to be done; she and Harry needed to sit down and talk. It was the only way Lily would be able to start fixing what she had broken.
James shifted from his spot and moved in closer to her. Lily smiled at him as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to sit in between his legs with her back against his chest. He pressed a kiss to her covered shoulder and asked, “Is this okay?”
A few months ago, he wouldn’t have asked. Pulling her into his embrace was something he had always done. She had missed it.
“Better than okay,” she said.
Turning her head to look at James, she lifted her hand to touch his chin before pressing her lips to his.
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The library was busy. Students were cracking down as exams grew closer and teachers just seemed to be giving out more and more homework. Harry had been concerned that he would struggle to catch up but had surprised himself. He had received high marks for all of his late work and was finally digging more into his preparation for his O.W.L.S.
Snape hadn’t given Harry any sort of break with his more than usual school load. Instead, he had seemed to try and push him harder. He had been making so many potions that Harry felt like he couldn’t get the smell out of his uniform. He had been taking extra showers to keep the grease from sticking to his hair, and Harry also found himself having no free time.
Between classes, his apprenticeship, Quidditch practices and the match against Slytherin, and the additional homework, he felt he only saw his friends at meals. Which was something that Carlisle had started to complain about, along with Slytherin’s loss to Ravenclaw.
It had been a close match; the Slytherin Chaser had done a great job scoring goals, but Harry had caught the snitch before they could get more than 150.
Harry was only just finding the time to read Fleur’s letters and write back to her. After their misunderstanding during her last visit, Harry had been feeling a little uncertain. When he had managed to take a step back and look at things from Fleur’s view, he was able to comprehend why she had been scared. They really didn’t know each other all that well, and while they both agreed that they were in a relationship, they needed to slow down and get to know one another. Harry knew that Fleur didn’t want him to not share his emotions with her, but he figured that declaring that he was in love with her again would be pushing the bar. He kept things simple, and when they did see each other, they made sure to spend as much time learning about one another as they could.
But now that Harry had finally caught up and was where the rest of his classmates were, he found himself sitting in the library with Jenna and Dylan. Professor McGonagall had released them from their Transfiguration class early, and the friends had decided to work on other subjects until lunch. The three of them were going over notes for their Charms class, and Jenna and Dylan were also getting help from him for their Potions work. They kept their voices low, as to not disturbed other students studying, but they could still feel the eyes of Madam Pince watching them.
Harry flipped his Charms textbook closed and stretched out his fingers. He looked up at the clock that was hanging on the far wall and noted that it would be lunchtime soon.
“Harry?”
He turned and noticed Harvey weaving his way through the other tables towards him.
“Harvey, don’t you have a class?” asked Harry.
Harvey nodded. “We got let out early. Um…I forgot to give you this.” He held out a letter.
Harry took it and frowned. “Who is this from?”
“Mum.”
The letter burned his fingertips.
“She gave it to me on the day of the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff quidditch match, but I didn’t see you again until dinner, and I forgot all about it. I found it this morning,” said Harvey.
Harry swallowed. “Thanks.”
Harvey nodded his head slowly. Harry could see that his little brother wanted to say more, but he didn’t. He just waved before turning and walking back the way he came.
Harry put the letter down on top of his books, and Jenna’s hand reached over to grab his. She squeezed his knuckles and gave him a small smile. No words were needed; she was simply giving him the comfort of knowing they were here for him. And he appreciated it.
“You haven’t spoken to her since Christmas, have you?” asked Dylan. He didn’t look up as he spoke; his quill never even stopped moving.
Harry sighed. He knew that Dylan was suffering from his parent's divorce, abandoned by his mother and left with a father who despised what he was. The similarities in their circumstances were there, but unlike Dylan, Harry’s family was trying to help him. Dylan had confided in Harry that all he wanted was a letter from his mother, something to acknowledge that she cared about his existence; nothing had ever come. And now Harry had a letter, a letter from his mother that he had chosen not to contact since Christmas.
“No—I haven’t,” said Harry.
Dylan nodded but didn’t say anything further; he just kept writing.
Harry felt a small amount of guilt, but he hadn’t felt ready to face his mother yet. He knew that she had been at both of his Quidditch matches. James had come, as well. But neither of them had approached him; he only found out because his father had mentioned it in their letters.
And now he had a letter, one that was over a month old, but he had it. And Harry didn’t know if he could read it.
The letter ended up in his pocket. After he left the library, packing up his stuff, Harry and his friends all mixed together on the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall and had lunch. The topics were kept light; Carlisle complained about Slytherin losing, Amelia teased Harry about his new relationship with Fleur, Cedric mentioned his crush, which sent both Amelia and Jenna into interrogation mode. It was all rather enjoyable, but Harry could still feel the letter.
After lunch, Harry had a free period. Instead of heaving down into the dungeons to spend the next hour and a half brewing until Snape would have him focus on his evening potion study, Harry decided to head outside.
All traces of the snowy winter was gone; spring had brought with it sunny skies and warm days, everything smelled fresh and new. As Harry left the castle, his feet carried him down towards Hagrid’s hut. The caretaker himself was moving through his pumpkin patch, humming to himself. Harry paid him no mind as he walked past and soon found himself standing by the edge of the lake. The waters were overly calm; the giant squid seemed to be hiding in the depths that afternoon.
The letter in Harry’s pocket was heavy. He was torn between reading it and burning it. But what Harry was most uncertain of was whether or not he was ready to face his mother. The last time he had spoken to her, she had begged him to forgive her. It hurt to see her so broken; tears were never something he wanted his mother to shed. Harry preferred to see his mother smiling. But the tears were her acknowledgement that she had done something wrong, that she knew her choices had hurt Harry.
He wondered what she had written. Was it perhaps another apology? Or maybe it would be more casual; perhaps she simply wanted to know how he was. Either way, it shook his core.
Harry contemplated what he should do for so long that the sun started to set. The hour and a half that he had meant to spend considering his options turned into much longer. By the time he had realised how much time had passed, he had realised that he had missed his lesson with Snape. Biting his cheek, Harry could only imagine the tongue lashing he would receive. The Potions Professor had been strangely…kind wasn’t the right word, but he hadn’t been such a hardass. He continued to pile up work for Harry to complete, but there were no sneers or comments. That would no doubt change once he got back.
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Snape was sitting at his desk when Harry entered, head down, writing hastily with a quill. Harry paused as he eyed the Professor, waiting for the quill to drop and that angry gaze to lock onto him. When Snape didn’t move, Harry closed the door behind him, hung up his bag and his cloak and rolled up his sleeves.
On the workbench were two bubbling cauldrons; one was standing empty with a notecard in front of it. It read: Draught of Peace. Harry glanced over to Snape, but he still hadn’t acknowledged his presence.
Instead of interrupting the Professor, Harry decided to make the draught. He knew that the Draught of Peace was the Potion that students were required to making for their O.W.L.S. It was one O.W.L.S that he wouldn’t have to complete because he no longer took potions, but it was also a potion he had yet to make.
The instructions were sitting beside the notecard. Before starting the potion, Harry took a moment to read through. One of the first lessons that Snape had ever ingrained into him was to properly understand what you were about to do. Make sure you have the correct space set up, enough time, all of the ingredients prepped and ready to be added, and also that you read and reread the steps that needed to be taken.
Snape’s scrawl was rather crude, and most would find it difficult to read, but Harry had learned to decipher his script.
Add powdered moonstone until the potion turns green.
Stir three times counterclockwise; the potion should turn blue.
Add powdered moonstone until the potion turns purple.
Allow to simmer until the potion turns pink.
Add syrup of hellebore until the potion turns turquoise.
Allow to simmer until the potion turns purple.
Shake powdered porcupine quills vigorously until they are ready and then add until the potion turns red.
Stir until the potion turns orange.
Add more porcupine quills until the potion turns turquoise.
Allow to simmer till the potion turns purple.
Add powdered unicorn horn until the potion turns pink.
Stir until the potion turns red.
Allow to simmer until the potion turns purple.
Add more powdered moonstone until the potion turns grey.
Allow the potion to simmer until it turns orange.
Add more powdered porcupine quills until the potion turns white. Stirring
Simmering lowers heat. Add exactly 7 drops of hellebore.
Harry reread the instructions twice before picking up the parchment and moving over to the ingredient shelves. He collected everything, carefully lining it up alongside the cauldron, and once he was happy that he had everything, he started brewing.
Ninety minutes later, Harry smiled as light silver vapours lifted from the top of his potion. Each step had been carefully taken to assure that he didn’t add too much, and Harry felt confident that it was a good potion.
Snape appeared beside him and looked down into the cauldron. He nodded his head before finally speaking. “Perfect. Bottle it, and then you can deliver them to the Hospital Wing.”
Harry nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“And then perhaps you can explain to me why you were late to our lesson? Perhaps you have grown bored of your apprenticeship?” Snape sat back down at his desk and lifted his quill.
There was the sneer.
Harry said, “My tardiness is inexcusable, sir.”
“That it is,” said Snape.
“My mother sent me a letter,” he said.
Snape’s hand paused, and the sneer slid away. Harry might have thought he saw regret cross the Professor's face but would never dare to mention it.
“Did you read the letter?” Snape asked.
Harry shook his head. “I was trying to decide if I should or not. Two hours and I still don’t know.”
Snape nodded.
Harry knew that when his mother and Snape were at Hogwarts, they had been friends, close friends. They hadn’t lived far from one another as children, and even though the two of them had been sorted into separate houses and saw the world very differently, they had always stayed close. He had never pried into why Snape and his mother’s friendship had crumbled, but Harry found himself wanting to ask what to do when it came to his mother. After all, Snape had known her well.
“Your mother was never one to intentionally hurt another,” said Snape. “She was always the one who wanted to heal others hurts, make people smile.” A brief smile graced Snape’s lips. “I know that you feel like she has betrayed you. That she chose the Potters over you. But I could never believe that she did it intentionally. Your mother loves you; she was trying to make the best out of an awkward situation and didn’t make the best choices.”
Harry asked, “Are you saying that I should forgive her?”
Snape shook his head. “No. I am saying that you should at least give her a chance to explain.”
Harry nodded. “Thank you, Professor.”
With nothing else needing to be said, Harry bottled the potion into vials before carrying them all up to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey accepted them graciously before requesting two dozen Pepper-Up Potions as well as some Burn-Healing Paste. Harry dropped off the request back with Snape before making his way to the kitchens to get the dinner he had missed out on.
As he ate and then made his way back to his dorm, Harry knew that the letter in his pocket was something he needed to know. But he found himself wanting to hear it straight from his mother, not off a piece of parchment.
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