Heart of the Guardian

26. Into the Pensieve

The next morning, Snape emerged from his bedroom to find Potter already up, sitting on the sofa with the book in his lap.

"Bit early for you, isn't it?" he asked mildly.

The boy's head shot up and he slammed the book shut. Snape twitched a frown. What was that about? "I didn't mean to startle you, Potter."

"It's Harry, Professor," the boy corrected with greater than usual intensity.

Snape considered him a moment. "Something on your mind, Potter?"

The boy opened his mouth to say something, his eyes searching Snape's face. However, he shook his head slightly and said, "Ah... no, Professor."

Snape eyed him dubiously. "Are you sure?"

The boy took a deep breath and let it out. "... Yeah..." by which Snape understood that he meant "No."

He did not push the matter, however. If and when the boy wanted to confide in him, he would. He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his eyes, only to have it fall forward, refusing to cooperate. "Breakfast?" he suggested.

The boy left the book on the sofa and they headed to the Great Hall. Thankfully, Minerva had not told the faculty that Snape had been back in the infirmary, so he was spared their concern. After breakfast, they made their visit to the graveyard. It was a beautiful day. Snape expected the boy to head to Hagrid's or call his broom, or even go visit Firenze, but the boy headed back to the castle, at his side.

"What are your plans for the day?" he asked.

"Oh... I thought I'd read some more," the boy answered.

He twitched an eyebrow. "Planning to compete with Miss Granger, Mr. Potter?"

The boy snorted. "No one can compete with Hermione!"

"Indeed."

In light of the boy's intentions, Snape also headed to their quarters. He could mix potions in his private lab as well as – or even better than – in the classroom, and the Ministry had sent a request for Veritaserum, their need greater than usual due to the upcoming trials of Death Eaters and Snatchers. Arthur had confided that Kingsley trusted Snape's potion-making – and honesty – more than the Ministry's potion makers', and had specifically requested a cauldronful of the truth serum from Snape's hand for the most critical interviews and investigations. That was more urgent now, in light of the attack on Potter. The boy headed back to his book on the sofa, and Snape headed to the lab.

Mid-morning, as he was measuring out linden to add to the cauldron already simmering with valerian, motherwort and other ingredients for Veritaserum, the boy wandered into the lab and sat down on a stool, swinging it idly and watching. He looked... preoccupied.

"Something bothering you, Potter?" he asked over the lip of the measuring cup he was eyeing.

"Nnnoo..." the boy drew out.

Snape held still a moment, contemplating the boy. Obviously something was on the boy's mind. He completed his measuring, identified a reasonable stopping point in the overall procedure, and worked toward that, aware of the boy's continued preoccupation, but focusing on his potion. Veritaserum was tricky, and a slip could spell the difference between efficacy and death. At the stopping point, he put down his tools and ingredients, wiped his hands on a cloth, and pulled a stool to sit at an empty spot across the wide work table from Potter.

"What's on your mind?" he asked quietly.

The boy contemplated his fingers, looked off at nothing, and finally raised his eyes to Snape's. He took a deep breath.