Chapter Text
Severus Snape stilled, his pale hand lingered against his robe, paused in place, and his bloodshot eyes remained steady, peering at the headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore.
"Have you not wished to prove your loyalty, Severus?" Dumbledore murmured. He had hardly looked up at the Potions Master since he had breezed through the door, bringing muddy snow in his wake no more than two minutes ago. His gaze, that held many secrets, was half-hidden behind his foggy spectacles that reflected the crackling fire warming the damp room in the thick of winter.
Severus inhaled slowly as he tried to comprehend the situation he was being placed in. Dumbledore had spoken rather ill-chosen words, but it wasn't a faux pas. Severus knew how calculated this old man could be. "You know." He leaned forward. "You know the torment I endured because of him... You have witnessed all that has happened, within your precious castle walls and outside it. Why do you ask me to do this?" He thought for another moment. "Because of how I feel about her?"
"Yes. The simple answer is yes." Dumbledore betrayed no emotions in his words.
Like a snake uncoiling with tremendous purpose to strike, Severus shot upright, the chair clattering behind him. "I am responsible for all that has transpired! I was in the Dark Lord's inner circle!" His muscles tensed one after the other, aching as they clenched in defense. "I am a Death Eater! He is not dead, merely gone. You know it. Am I to betray the Dark Lord for this boy?" He spat out the last word with much intensity and spite, venomous. "Am I to risk my life for this child?"
Dumbledore sank into the armchair deeply, his shoulders sinking into the worn mauve cushion, giving him the appearance of shrinking. "I have made a mistake," he admitted. He finally looked up at Severus. A bitter frown had worked into his creased brow. "I have made a mistake. I implore you to rectify it."
Severus barked in sordid amusement, his black hair dancing against his sharp cheekbones in a maddening manner. Dumbledore had finally gone insane. "Then why don't you take him in?" he taunted. "He is your charge. You seem desperate to keep him safe. He will be safe at Hogwarts. Keep him there."
"I cannot," Dumbledore said. His fingers were weaving into the soft strands of his thick grey beard. "Not yet. I need time to make arrangements. Until then, I must get him away from his family."
Severus slammed his hand mantle above the fireplace vehemently, all traces of his wry laugh vanishing in an instant. "Why me?”
"The Dursleys cannot give him anything but misery and loneliness." Dumbledore reached inside his purple robe to pick out a flimsy piece of lined paper from an inner pocket. It seemed to have been folded and read many times that the creases nearly caused it to rip apart. He held it out to Severus, who snatched it with a disgruntled growl. There were faint pencil marks on it, shaky and hardly legible. He had to move towards the fire to read it.
Dear Santa,
When you come to the house this year, can I go away with you? I do not want presents. I do not like this house. I want to live with you. I will be very quiet. I will help mend the toys. I can cook food for the elves.
Just get me out of this stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid house. It hurts too much. Everyone hates me. I am afraid. Please.
Harry Potter
Severus hadn't realized that he was holding his breath until he released it in one loud gush. He glanced over his shoulder at the headmaster who had been watching him the entire time. "Because of this?" he asked blandly. He held up the letter in contempt. "He doesn't like his timeouts, so you want to rescue him?"
"The house has been experiencing enormous spurts of uncontrolled magic, Severus. If this continues, there is no telling what the child will do to escape. He could hurt the Dursleys. Worse yet, he could hurt himself. Just until school begins after winter break, that's all I need. Two weeks. He needs to be housed in a location he feels safe in and I trust you to provide him with such an environment. Once you return to school, I promise you, I will take over all responsibility. Just for a fortnight. I know what I ask of you is most unfortunate-"
"Then don't ask me!"
Dumbledore tilted his head to the side and steepled his fingers. Severus' mounting anger rolled off his back without ruffling him the least bit. “I trust you.”
Snow packed along the sides of the road and ice slicked the pavement on the night Harry James Potter arrived at Spinner's End, bundled in a jacket three sizes too big, worn boots, ratty mittens and a threadbare scarf. All of those were his, passed down from lovely Dudley Dursley. Held in Harry's hands was a small bag that stored the rest of his meager possessions he had packed up from the cupboard under the stairs. And now he was in front of an ordinary door of an ordinary house that stood on an ordinary street, still ogling at the extraordinary old man beside him.
When the old man with the long white beard and purple suit had come to collect him from Privet Drive, Harry had no qualms. He didn't question anything. He didn't even say goodbye. He packed his things and walked out without a word, in awe of the old man who had made his uncle and aunt cower in fright.
Now here he was, three days before Christmas.
"You don't have to pretend to be Santa Clause," Harry said quietly. "He's not real."
Albus Dumbledore smiled down, his blue eyes dancing with cheer. "I rather like pretending to be him," he responded before knocking three times.
Harry started when the door opened abruptly. Then he took a step back when he saw who had opened it. There stood a figure who was so very pale with black hair framing an unflattering face, ominous shadows playing against pasty cheeks and a sharp hooked nose. His eyes were dark and sunken, and his brows were knitted together into a permanent frown. He wore the strangest clothes too, although not quite as strange as pretend Santa. A long black robe, as black as the night.
Severus directed a disgusted glare towards the boy and then dismissed him entirely to look up at Dumbledore, to whom he directed an even fiercer scowl.
"Merry Christmas, Severus." Dumbledore nudged Harry forward into the foyer and closed the door between them without a farewell.
Harry continued to stare at the thin man. Severus clicked his tongue in exasperation and walked away. He had left his potion brewing.
Harry took the time alone to survey his surroundings. He understood why he was there. He was to live with this man now. He looked around the cramped and dark corridor. Unlike his old place, this house looked a bit foreboding and was too quiet. At Privet Drive, the telly was always blaring. Not in this house. The walls were bare. At Privet Drive, the walls were adorned with tacky paintings and pictures of precious Dudley-kins. Not in this house. Harry couldn't make out the color on the walls as there was no light. He felt around for a light switch, but found nothing. He shrugged to himself before plopping down on the ground and struggling to get his large boots off of his cold feet. The taxi ride to the house had been silent. Now this exchange had been silent too. It was all so mysterious.
He shuffled down to the first entryway that had light, finding himself in the living room. It was plain with two grey couches, a fireplace on one end, two chairs by the window and a coffee table with nothing on it. Through the living room he made his way into the kitchen where, once again, there was almost nothing.
Not even a fridge or a stove.
Harry worried his lip. How was he supposed to eat? What was he supposed to eat? He shook his head to get rid of his trepidation and scurried out of there. On the other side of the hallway was another door, this one closed. He opened it and shivered when he heard that frightening creak that happened all too often in scary movies. The door had stairs behind them, going down into a dark basement. He would never venture down there if he could help it.
Harry kept walking along the hallway that held four more doors, two on each side. This house was very weird. Just one corridor with doors on either end. He soon figured out that two of those doors led into bedrooms, one of them obviously his as it had a narrow bed, bare chest of drawers, and an empty wardrobe. He hardly hid his excitement as he set his bag atop the bed and then ran to the window to look out. He had his own window. He stared out into the fence of the neighbor, but that was okay. It was still a window.
Opposite the two bedrooms were one bathroom and one enormous study. Harry was blown away by how massive the library was. He didn't quite understand how such a large room could exist in this tiny home. He knew better than to venture into the room uninvited, so he filled his hungry eyes with the sights.
Once he was in his bedroom again, he looked around more intently. A soft flickering light shone from a lantern on his bedside. He also had a broad wardrobe, one chest of drawers, a small table and a chair. The room was painted white and the floors were carpeted. It felt nice under his socked feet. The bed was just a twin, but that was incredibly large in Harry's eyes. He sat on it with some hesitance. Then he lowered himself onto his back and stared up at the white ceiling. It was strange being in bed with a light on. He wasn't used to having a light on at night, not in the cupboard under the stairs.
He fell asleep that way, his legs dangling over the edge and his hands clasped on his stomach.
Severus leaned against the doorjamb and watched for many minutes, lost in his own thoughts. This was Harry Potter. This was Lily's son. He cringed. The boy looked nothing like Lily. He looked like a proper Potter instead. His teeth gritted in anger as memories started to surface. He carefully pushed them down by remembering his reasons for housing Potter's child. It was for Lily's sake. It was how he would atone for his wrongdoings. He would do right by Lily's child. This was Lily's child. Severus realized that he would have to keep reminding himself of that because, from that day on, all he would be seeing was the face of a bully who had tormented him for years too many.
Lily's child.
He huffed as he pushed away from the doorjamb and walked to his own bedroom. He wasn't about to lose yet another night over this. Not if he could help it. Fourteen days.