Mrs. Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter. I don't. I only play with some of her characters. Richard Kimble and Thomas Crown are borrowed from the respective movie and TV show. Lake Sorrel Campground and all its inhabitants are mine.
It's been a while. Here is a summary of what happened until now.
Summary: Towards the end of his summer holidays between his
5th and 6th year Harry is scheduled to spent some time at the Burrow. At
Mrs. Figg's he is confronted with a change of plans -Voldemort is stirring.
Snape, who has been found out as a traitor among the Death Eaters, comes
to take Harry to Hogwarts. In London they learn that there was an attack
on the Dursleys almost immediately after they left Little Whinging. All
three Dursleys and Mrs. Figg are dead. The Aurors look for Snape as their
murderer. Due to Voldemort's actions Hogwarts is no longer a safe haven
during the summer holidays. Thus forced to stay out of the Wizarding World,
Snape and Harry decide to hide in the Muggle world until the new term begins.
The Death Eaters remain at their heels. They find and destroy Snape and
Harry's hide-out in Muggle London .
Unfamiliar Roads
by Clio
Chapter 8 -Welcome to Sorrel Lake
Harry's mind was numb. He couldn't think of anything but the burning house and the green Dark Mark at the wall. Barely noticing where they were going he only was pulled back into realty when Snape stopped the car in front of a big shopping center at the outskirts of London. Harry looked around in wonder. What did Snape want here? His question was answered when Snape dragged him into a shop for outdoor apparel, where he asked for a tent. After a moment of surprise Harry figured that this had to be Snape's plan to hide in the Muggle world and at the same time making it as hard as possible for both Muggle and Wizard authorities alike to keep track of them.
Harry wasn't quite sure if he could agree to this plan. Camping with Snape didn't sound like something he wanted to do in his holidays. But then nothing had gone as he had desired during these last days. Since Snape hadn't asked him for his opinion he decided to keep quiet.
Harry saw that Snape was already talking to a salesman, who obviously took no pleasure in his customer. Snape didn't allow him to praise the different tent models the store had. He quickly decided for one of the smaller tents, obviously the cheapest model as Harry could tell from the salesman's barely hidden disappointment. His face did lit up a bit though when Snape in addition chose two, thin-looking foam pads. Obviously having decided Snape was not a completely lost cause, the salesman steered him over to the sleeping bag section. Harry wandered over to listen in on their conversation. The situation was quite absurd, but held a certain entertainment value.
Although the salesman did his best Snape didn't look as if he cared for the differences between down and fiber stuffing or if he understood the need for those overly bright colored heaps of fabric at all.
He waved impatiently at the salesman. "No, no. I would like to pay for the other items now."
Then he looked at Harry, who had come up to them, and in an afterthought he added: "Wait, do you have shoes for the boy? Something sturdy maybe."
Harry looked down at his ill fitting shoes. He really wouldn't mind new footwear, but he didn't like Snape's patronizing manner.
"Of course, Sir. We have a fine selection of hiking boots. Would you prefer a lighter model or something heavy for alpine areas? What size do you have, young man."
"Er, 6 1/2."
The salesman opened his mouth to talk about the shoes, but Snape cut him off with a glare and gestured towards a board with boots.
"Excellent choice!" the man clamored, and hurried to hand Harry a pair.
"Of course there are alternatives if this model is not quite fitting."
He pulled out more shoes from various boards.
Harry, in the meantime, had put on the shoes. The salesman beamed down on him. "Let them warm up a bit, and then walk around. We have a slope over there, where we can try out if your foot slips when walk up or down. It will take about 10 min for you to get a feeling for this model." He smiled insecurely at Snape, who had folded his arms and tapped impatiently the floor with his foot.
"Potter," he hissed, "do they fit you?"
Harry wriggled his toes and shrugged. "I guess so."
The salesman shook his head. "He can't decide that in a rush."
Snape's raised an eyebrow. "You heard the boy. They will do." The look which never failed to intimidate the Hogwarts students also scared the salesman into obedience.
"Very well, sir."
At the cashier desk Snape produced a bundle of bank notes from his pocket.
Harry's eyes became wide when he saw the thick bundle consisted entirely
of 100 £ notes. He estimated that Snape was holding more that
£ 8000 in his hands. The salesman had noticed the bundle, too, and
craned his neck to have a better look at it. Harry hoped that he didn't
notice the odd Gringotts logo on the banderole, which featured a pile of
gold coins and a dragon guarding them. Carelessly Snape pulled out a few
notes and placed them on the desk. He didn't seem to notice the strange
look the salesman gave him, when he checked the notes under a UV lamp.
Out in the car Harry asked: "Do you want to go camping?"
Snape started the car and sneered at Harry. "I thought that was obvious. Are we having objections, Mr. Potter?"
Harry could think of a thousand objections, beginning with 'I want to go to Hogwarts' and ending with 'I don't want to sleep in the same room even less in the same tent as you'. But he couldn't come up with a better idea right now, and since neither Hogwarts nor the Magical world nor Muggle hotels were an option, he said nothing. And somehow it all didn't matter anymore. He shrugged.
Snape seemed to be satisfied.
They drove the whole afternoon. Harry didn't care where they were going. He stared at the countryside, trying to prevent his thoughts from circling around Mrs. Figg, the Dursleys and the blazing apartment house. But no matter how hard he concentrated on the cows, fields and villages, he couldn't get rid of the image of the ugly green skull that seemed to be burned into his retinas. He idly wondered if there had been a Dark Mark over number 4 Privet Drive, too. Surely Petunia wouldn't have liked how it drew the curiosity of the neighbors.
He didn't try to talk to Snape, who himself seemed to be deep in thought.
In the early evening Snape got off from the highway and took smaller streets through the countryside. Soon they passed a sign advertising a campground, but Snape kept on driving. At a second sign, promoting the Sorrel Lake campground, he turned into a gravel road.
Harry couldn't say what made this campground more acceptable than the
first. Curiously he tried to spot it down the road. He had only been too
a magical campground with the Weasleys at the Quidditch World cup, and
he wondered in what ways a Muggle campground would be different from a
magical one.
At a small house with a skewed sign saying 'Welcome to Sorrel Lake Campground' Snape stopped the car and got out. He waved at Harry, to follow him. As soon as they stepped into the dim lit office a dog came out from behind the counter and started to bark at them.
"Down, Percy. They're customers!"
A huge red-faced man stood up behind the counter. The dog plopped down on his belly obediently, but continued to growl. Harry couldn't suppress a chuckle about Percy, who was so obviously torn between barking at the strangers and obeying his master.
"What can I do for you?" the man asked. He was sweating profusely.
"We are looking for a place to stay. Preferably ... " Snape said, but was cut off by the big man.
"Hook up for water and electricity?"
"I believe I can't quite follow you."
"Trailer or tent? That your car?" The man grunted and leaned over the counter to look around Snape at their car. Snape took a step back. With amusement Harry watched how the dog took advantage of his distracted master and crawled a few inches closer to Snape's heels.
"A tent then. You won't need electricity. That'll be pitch B15. It's all the way down the road. Turn right behind the washrooms. These are our rates." The man gestured towards a barely readable sign in a dark corner. "We can do the formal things in the morning. My wife is not here, she does the finances. I'll just need your name tonight."
Snape glanced nervously at the dog, who had inched closer again. "Smith. Um. Jonathan Smith."
"And is that your son, Mr. Smith?"
"Er, yes. Yes."
Snape's brief hesitation was enough to catch the attention of the campground
owner. He cast a strange look at Harry, who was blushing, and then narrowed
his eyes at Snape suspiciously.
"Really? You must know, we are a family campground. We don't want those
people out here, you know. Twisted fellows from the city, who do you-know-what
with children."
Snape took a deep breath. "How dare you imply, that I, ... that I ... . How dare you!"
The dog pulled back his muzzles and growled.The man's eyes shifted to
Harry. "Is he your father, boy?"
Harry swallowed. He couldn't possibly declare that Snape of all people was his father. He just couldn't. From the corner of his eye he could see Snape tensing, his hand slowly went to the sleeve where Harry knew he kept his wand. Harry's stomach twisted itself into knots. He swallowed again to fight the feeling of nausea. If he didn't answer soon they were in serious trouble. It took all of his willpower to open his mouth.
"Yes, o-of course."
The man looked back and forth between Harry and Snape, who stiffly stood next to each other. Then he slowly nodded. "Well, I think I can see some family semblance here. Sorry, but you can't be careful enough nowadays. If you knew what kind of people sometimes show up here. Bloody perverts."
Snape fixed the man with his coldest stare. The campground owner started to fidget.
"Ahem, well, you will have to fill out this slip, but you can take your time and bring it back tomorrow. We also sell fishing licenses, hiking maps and milk here in the mornings. If you need anything like ..."
Snape cut him off. "Pitch B15, right?"
Back in the car Snape hit the wheel with his fist. "This blasted Muggle! Who does he think he is talking to?"
The tension and the sick feeling in his stomach left Harry as if somebody had switched off a light. All that was left was a strange feeling of light-headedness and euphoria. Harry started to snigger.
"To Jonathan Smith, of course. Honestly, 'John Smith'! Couldn't you come up with something less suspicious? Like Thomas Crown or Richard Kimble maybe?"
Snape, who didn't seem to feel as relieved as Harry, looked up angrily. "And why do you think that those names would be better suited?"
Harry helplessly dissolved in a fit of silly laughter.
Their assigned lot turned out to be a sloping stretch of dusty grass near the lake. Since neither Harry nor Snape had ever put up a tent their attempt to do so was more then pathetic.
"No, no, no. Can't you see that's wrong , Potter!"
Harry decided it was probably better to pull away from their poor team effort and give Snape some room to work the problem out on his own. He watched how Snape was struggling with the sheet of directions, the tarp and the ropes, and at the same time constantly cursing the campground owner and his dog, the salesman and Muggles in general. He estimated that, judging from the brick color of Snape's face, it would take two more minutes until Snape would finally lose his temper and pull out his wand to incinerate the whole tent.
"Anything you find amusing, Mr. Potter?" Snape had noticed his glee.
Harry tried to keep a straight face, but failed miserably." No, Professor."
With two quick steps Snape was in front of him and dropped the poles at his feet. Just when he opened his mouth he was interrupted my a deep voice. "Tricky model that! Had one of those myself quite some time ago."
Snape, who had doubtlessly been about to launch into one of his infamous tirades, shut his mouth with an audible click and turned around. None of them had noticed the approach of a Muggle, who extended his hand with a friendly smile. "Robert Higgins is the name. We are camping a bit over there." Since Snape didn't move and only stared at him he grabbed Snape's hand in his own beefy one and pumped it up and down.
" Jonathan Smith." Snape said finally.
"Ah, very well, John. Welcome to Sorrel Lake then." The Muggle clapped Snape hard on the shoulder, which made him stumble sideways bit. He glowered at the man, who didn't seem to notice Snape's hostile gaze. "You can call me Bob."
Bob was about the same height as Snape, but was built far more athletic. His body reminded Harry of a wrestler or a hammer-thrower, who was out of shape for quite a while now. Maybe Crabbe and Goyle would look like this in a couple of years. He wore neon-pink shorts and a tricot that read 'Tottenham Hotspurs'.
"It's your first time around here, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," said Harry, and since Snape had chosen to cross his arms and continue glaring at the Muggle, he added with an apologetic smile "It is actually the first time we are going camping at all."
Bob gave him a patronizing grin before he turned back to Snape. "I heard your son call you Professor. So you are ... a scientist? Teaching at ... a university?" Snape nodded. The Muggle burst into laughter. "I bet you are. You certainly look like fellow who doesn't get out much. Always with the head up in the clouds and the feet high on the ivory tower. Am I right, John?"
Snape smiled sourly and nodded.
Harry breathed out relieved. If Bob took Snape for an eccentric professor, he wouldn't worry about any unusual behavior they might display during the next days. Snape, with his untidy long hair, the shabby corduroy pants and the old fashioned jacket certainly looked the part.
Suddenly a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Harry
turned around to see a big owl fly over the campground. He exchanged a
brief look with Snape, who also was watching the bird.
" What's your subject?"
" Pardon?" Snape asked absently, gazing at the bird.
"What field do you work in?" Bob repeated.
Snape still seemed to be distracted by the owl, so Harry with a sudden stroke of inspiration said "Ornithology." Unfortunately Snape answered "Chemistry" at the same time.
"What?"
"Birds, you know." Harry offered before his brain had a chance to register that his answer would not help to clarify the situation. Snape scowled at him, while Bob looked from Harry to Snape in confusion.
"The chemistry of birds." Snape said swiftly. "I study ... avian biochemistry. The chemistry of bird flight for example is particularly fascinating."
"Oh, " Bob said, still looking confused, " sounds, er, interesting."
Suddenly Bob hollered "Matt!" at someone behind their backs. Both Harry and Snape flinched. "That's my son Matthew," Bob said in a more civil volume and pointed at a boy with a fishing rod who stood in a frozen position a bit away from them. He turned to Harry." He should be your age. Why don't you go fishing with Matt while I and your father pitch up your tent? How does that sound."
Harry didn't have to think twice. He nodded enthusiastically, eager
to get away from Bob and Snape. Should Snape deal with the Muggle on his
own! He ran to the boy before the Potion Master could object in any way.
After some short introductions Harry and Matt were on their way down to the lake.
"Do you and your dad go often on vacation together?" Harry asked Matt, whose sandy hair reminded him a bit of Seamus Finnegan.
"My dad takes me camping every year. Says it's good for our father son bonding."
"Where's your mom?" Harry asked curiously.
Matt shrugged. "At home. She's looking after my baby sister. Dad says she would only disturb a men's outing."
"Yeah. Same here." Harry said, hoping it sounded knowingly. Since he
had never had a real family he didn't know what a family vacation was supposed
to be like.
At the lake's shore Matt and Harry sat down. The lake looked quiet and a bit boring in the evening sun. Harry couldn't imagine why anyone wanted to spend his holidays here. Matt put down his rod and made no move to prepare for fishing. Instead he turned his back to the water and faced the campground. Suddenly he jabbed Harry in the ribs. "See that girl?"
Harry followed his pointing finger. And saw a blonde girl about their age who had just stepped out of a camper. She went towards the washrooms followed by a younger girl, who was obviously her sister.
"She's Dutch." Matt informed Harry. "And she's hot, eh?"
Harry nodded. The girl was tanned and had well developed breasts, but he doubted that a Dutch family would spent their holidays in a boring campground in England. Wasn't there an ocean between England and Holland? His geography knowledge was dwindling since he had stopped visiting a Muggle school.
"You know, she has a thing for me." Matt whispered hoarsely when the girl was out of their sight. Harry looked at him incredulously.
"No shit. I know when a woman is ready. I bet I will shag her before the end of the week."
Harry chuckled.
"Believe me, I'm quite an expert. It won't be my first time, you know." Matt gave Harry a shrewd look. "Have you ever ... ."
"With a girl? Er ... no." Harry thought about how he had once kissed Lavender at a Quidditch victory party in the common room and almost touched her bra.
"Pity. You don't know what you're missing, pal. Much better than your own handiwork."
Harry blinked sheepishly "What?"
Matt rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. At night ... under the sheets ..."
"O-of course." Harry stammered.
Matt laughed. "Why are you blushing like a girl?"
Harry closed his eyes. He couldn't believe he had this conversation with a total stranger, a Muggle.
"Aunt Petunia says ... she says that it makes you ... go blind."
"You don't believe that, do you?"
Harry shook his head. "No, of course not. It's just ... it's ... my
eyes, my vision is quite poor, and I don't want to risk anything." He took
a deep breath. Matt stared at him for a second. Then he fell flat on his
back in the grass and began to laugh so hard tears were streaming down
his cheeks.
About two hours and a lot of embarrassing but comradely conversation
later, Harry went back to the tent pitch. Matthew had reminded him a lot
of his cousin Dudley. Not that Matt was as fat as Dudley, but he had the
same air of ignorant confidence around him.
At their camp site he found Snape sitting at a small fire in front of the perfectly build up tent, smoking. Next to him in the grass lay an almost finished whisky bottle, obviously a welcome gift from Bob. He noticed Harry's approach and turned around. "Finished playing with your new Muggle friend, Potter?"
Harry, too tired to be appropriately needled, nodded and plopped down next to the fire in a little distance to Snape. "Where is Bob?"
Snape snorted and said very seriously. "A while ago he finally had the sense to leave. You wouldn't believe how close he came to being transfigured into a toad or a slug. Or, come to think of it, anything that could be crushed easily and would leave an ugly, wet stain. He insisted on giving me this, though." Snape lifted the bottle towards the grinning Harry and drank a long daft from it.
"He reminds me of my Uncle Vernon." Harry said quietly. "He is so ... loud. I wonder if Vernon and Dudley ever went camping together."
Snape rubbed his injured shoulder, but didn't reply. Harry looked into
the flames in front of him. He didn't really know what the Dursleys
did when he wasn't around. All he know was that they went on vacation
together once in a while. Maybe there Vernon too would teach his son to
fish or something alike.
However, the Dursleys would never go on a vacation again. They were
dead. Like Mrs. Figg. Harry felt his stomach cramping. Angry he tried
to keep the upwelling emotions in check. He cleared his throat.
"Uncle Vernon wanted so much that Dudley started to work at Grunnings
after school." His voice threatened to break. Again he cleared his throat,
but sound he produced was a low wail. Embarrassed and not willing
to cry in front of Snape he clamped his mouth shut.
"Potter."
Harry didn't want to look at the face of his teacher right now. Stubbornly he continued to look into the fire.
"Potter!"
Reluctantly Harry lifted his head. Surprisingly Snape didn't scowl or sneer at him. He was holding out the bottle of whisky to Harry. "Here. It might help your ... sore throat ... a bit."
Gingerly Harry accepted the bottle and sipped from it. Immediately he started to cough when the liquid burned in his mouth and all the way down to his stomach. With a satisfied nod Snape took the bottle away from him.
The irony of the situation was lost on Harry. Snape, who some counted among the greatest Potion Masters of his time, didn't seem to know a better cure for Harry's pain than strong Muggle alcohol.
Harry's coughing ceased and a curious warmth spread in his stomach. It was the first time he drank something stronger than ale. Only last year he and Ron had sampled from a bottle of Muggle beer Dean Thomas had managed to smuggle into Hogwarts. Dudley, on the other hand, had always been bragging about how he and his friends at school got smashingly drunk at secret parties. Dudley, who now would never graduate from Smeltings. Aunt Petunia would never have the chance to see her Duddykins grow into a man.
Harry had to bite his lip in order to prevent his chin from quivering. It now took all his will power to refrain from crying in front of Snape. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his breath, which again threatened to catch in his throat. But in the darkness he saw images of Aunt Petunia in the kitchen, Uncle Vernon with Dudley, Mrs. Figg feeding her cats flashing before him. He squeezed his eyes shut even firmer, but he couldn't prevent the first tears from leaking out, nor could his clenched fists prevent his body from shuddering. He began to sob in silence, as his years with the Dursleys had taught him.
Surprisingly, and unlike all the times he had cried alone in the darkness of his cupboard at 4 Privet Drive, he felt a heavy arm settle around his shoulders. Harry tensed. A hand closed around his upper arm and pulled. Harry, still with his eyes squeezed firmly shut, leaned towards the other side, but the shudders running through his body made it hard to stay in control of his movements. His pathetic attempt to scoot away failed.
Finally he gave in and allowed himself to be drawn closer by the arm, until he felt another body make contact with his side and his face met a bony shoulder.
Maybe it was the warmth of the arm around his shoulders, or more probable
the warmth from the Whisky within, that made Harry's last resolves crumble.
He cried, as he had not done since he was six years old.
When finally his body stopped to shake Harry didn't know how long he had been sobbing in agony. He noted that Snape's arm was still around his shoulders. He wasn't rubbing his back or making any other comforting gestures. His arm was simply there. Harry took a deep shaky breath and slowly opened his eyes.
The fire was burning low, and the campground around them had gone rather
quiet. He didn't dare to move, because he feared if he gave Snape an indication
that he had calmed down, he would take his arm away and possibly ask questions.
Unmoving Harry sat and stared into the fire for a long time, trying to
sort through his thoughts. Snape didn't move much either. From time to
time Harry could feel how he shifted a bit to rise the whisky bottle
to his lips. If he had noted that Harry had stopped crying he didn't show
it.
When the fire was reduced to embers Snape suddenly squeezed Harry's shoulder and then dropped his arm. Harry turned his head a bit to meet Snape's eyes.
"Go to bed, Potter." Snape whispered. The smell of whisky on his breath was overwhelming.
Harry watched how Snape got to his feet, his movements a bit less graceful
than usually. He somehow felt that he should say something to Snape, apologize
for crying or explain himself maybe, but he didn't know what to say.
Snape took a few swaying steps away from Harry before he turned to him once more. "You can have the tent. I'll sleep in the car."
Harry stared at Snape's retreating back and bit his lip. Snape had slurred
the words almost exactly the same way as Uncle Vernon always did when he
was drunk.
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A/N: Again this is not beta-ed. Not that many of you didn't offer me to help (thank you very much !), but real life was becoming so prominent, that I almost forgot about my story. Now that June 21st is around the corner, I had to get this off from my harddrive before OoP comes out and everything becomes AU. Sorry if it is not up to standard. Have a great OoP weekend!
Thanks to all who reviewed!
Jess the Great: When reading the books I was not that fond
of Harry either, but since I write from his POV he is really growing on
me. Actually I love all characters I write, in this chapter Matt in particular.
Azalais Malfoy: How nice, you commented on Mulciber. I actually have a fairly good picture in my head about Snape's past, his family and friends. Most of it will never make it into this story. I have made up bios for the whole Slytherin year of 1978 for a short story I'm toying around with for a while. It will probabely never be posted because it is so melancholic, it would drive readers into depression.
LadyLaura020: Sorry, again not updated in a while. You may hit me, if you still want to.
besnaped: Sometimes I think I maybe put too much in one chapter, but once I am in a mood to write I can't stop cramming more little lines and deatils into it.
mimine: Thank you for making me the greatest compliment a fanfiction writer can dream of. I don't know what to say.
Moonchild: The situation for Snape and Harry won't improve soon. Glad you liked my version of Snape's 'return to the light'. I have a lot of fun weaving my very own theories about the Poterverse into the story.
Thank you, Zardiphillian Berryllix (hey, you've updated
your fic, too!), Nemo, Just ME, faerychild713, MyInnerHermione, ranger,
Sela, Principessa, Kari, fanfiction fanatic, Jaws, faerychild713, fabnikki,
Sakura Le, Charma1219