Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry sat staring up at the night sky, his legs dangling off the edge of the astronomy tower.
It was the night before he was forced back to the Dursleys for the summer. Harry hated the End-of-Term feast, as it always served as a reminder of what was to come.
Isolation and insults for two whole months.

………

This year had been an even worse affair, with it being a memorial for Cedric.
The usually well-decorated Hall was draped with black drapes, and the enchanted roof was no longer a magical night sky, but instead its original beams of wood and stone.
Hardly anyone spoke during the meal, and if so, it was just quiet murmurs and the occasional glare thrown towards Harry.
He couldn’t blame them. If he was in their shoes, he would probably feel the same.

Harry barely touched his food.
He felt nauseous with guilt that had settled at the pit of his stomach, unmoving since the day Cedric died.
Since that day he had also felt in a dreamlike state. Nothing felt real. Everything around him just felt flat and two-dimensional. He felt like his senses were different too. In the shower that morning, it felt as though someone else’s hands were washing his hair and body. Before that, it had taken a lot out of him to even get in the shower.
He just felt so exhausted constantly. He hadn’t wanted to come to the feast, he just wanted to lie in bed forever, but Hermione and Ron had physically pulled him down to the Hall.

Staring down at his goblet of water, he tried his best to ignore the creeping feeling of eyes on him.

After Dumbledore’s speech, Harry mumbled an apology to Hermione and Ron and excused himself from the table, rushing out of the Hall. As he left, instead of feeling the eyes on him, he could see them on him.

He’d rushed through the castle and up the staircase to Myrtle’s bathroom. Thankfully the ghost was nowhere to be seen.
Harry locked himself in a cubicle and fell to his knees immediately throwing up into the toilet. With his eyes shut, images of the graveyard came flooding back to him.

Kill the spare!

Harry shakily stood up, flushed the toilet, and then sat on the closed lid with his head in his hands. He noticed then how utterly exhausted he felt. Of course, since Cedric’s death, he could barely sleep longer than an hour a night, perhaps three if he was lucky.

He leaned against the side of the cubical, wishing nothing more than to just not exist right now. He would never kill himself, but he still sometimes wanted nothing more than to just die. For it all to be over.
What did he have here, really? He had Ron and Hermione, and he loved them dearly, but they had risked their lives for him numerous times. Without him, they would be safe.
He imagined they would likely get over his death in due time as well if something were to happen. Would he get a memorial like Cedric’s? Then once summer was over, everyone would move on, right?
Harry assumed so.
His godfather, he was unsure of. The man was already unstable after his imprisonment in Azkaban, but the man was getting better. He had friends. He had Lupin, he had… Well, Harry wasn’t sure who else, but he figured the man would get along just fine.

After entertaining the thought of his death for some time, Harry eventually left the stall and walked to one of the basins turning the tap on and washing his face in an attempt to wake himself up.
He then looked at himself in the mirror.
His hair was an unkempt mess after running his hands through it one too many times throughout the day anxiously. He had dark circles under his eyes, and although he was already pale, he was sure he looked paler than usual.
He stood up still staring at himself.
He, who caused Cedric’s death.
He, who endangered his best friends constantly.
He, who thought of nobody but himself.
He, who should be dead.

He then lifted his fist and slammed it into the mirror before he could stop himself.
A sharp pain radiated through his hand, and he drew in shaky breaths as he pulled his fist away from the mirror, watching as shattered pieces fell into the sink, along with a crimson substance.

Harry looked down at his hand, there was a deep gash across his knuckles that were throbbing, and he was certain the knuckle of his middle finger was out of place. He watched as the blood trickled down his hand into the sink, and for once, his mind felt clear, and the guilty feeling in his stomach seemed alleviated.

Maybe this was what he needed. Punishment. He glanced down at the shards of glass in the sink and picked one up pocketing it.

He would save it for later.

………

Later couldn’t come soon enough for Harry.

Once he could hear the faint snoring of the others in his dorm, he grabbed his invisibility cloak and pulled it over himself tiptoeing out of the dorm and through the common room.

Most people were in bed, but he spotted two students sitting close together on the sofa, cuddling under a blanket by the fire.
He had never spoken to them before but remembered them from some of his classes and his Sorting Ceremony as Anna Barnes and Saoirse Murphy.
He raised an eyebrow as he watched them cautiously while crossing the room. He knew that Anna was a Gryffindor, and Saoirse was a Slytherin.
But he had no business in judging a cross-house relationship, even if it was between two houses known for hating each other.
Instead, Harry just wondered how on Earth Saoirse hadn’t been caught out of bed, and in the Gryffindor Common Room no else. He chalked it up to it being the last day of term and so perhaps the Professors were being a little more lenient.

Luckily the girls were too busy infatuated with each other to notice Harry leave the room.

Walking through the castle aimlessly, Harry couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
He could hear the faint sounds of Filch mumbling to himself as the man traversed the castle, and the faint sound of McGonagall’s footsteps echoing through the halls as she was presumedly on night watch for any misbehaving teenagers.
Harry was glad of that one sense he had learned from the Dursleys – the ability to tell whose footsteps were approaching had saved him many times, be it from Weasley twin pranks to a smack round the face from his Uncle.

Harry decided to go up to the astronomy tower.

………

That was how he found himself sitting with his legs dangling over the edge staring up at the night sky.
He held his invisibility cloak tightly around himself.
The cool breeze hitting his face was incredibly refreshing. It almost made him forget about what he had come to do. He looked down at the mirror shard in his hand, with the other hand he picked it up, twisting and turning it.
For a moment, he felt unsure. Did he really want to do this? Thinking back on the calming sensation he’d felt in the bathroom, he made up his mind.
He shrugged the invisibility cloak off and rolled up his sleeve.

Three quick movements turned into four. Four turned into six. Six turned into eight until eventually he paused.

The door to the astronomy tower had creaked open.

Harry shot up to his feet as quietly as he could pulling his cloak over himself and moving to hide next to one of the pillars.

The dark figure of Snape climbed up the stairs into the tower, his wand out casting Lumos. Harry rolled his eyes. Of course, the bat would also be patrolling tonight. Harry didn’t know that the man could venture so far up from his dungeons.

Snape circled the room then stopped abruptly, his gaze down at the floor, then his eyes trailed over exactly next to where Harry stood.
Harry felt like his heart stopped. How the hell did he know?
Harry looked down following the man's previous gaze and his shoulders sagged as he noticed droplets of blood on the floor leading from the edge over to the pillar.
He frowned as he watched Snape take in a deep breath and then walk over to the edge.
Harry noticed the man appeared pale and with a look of concern on his face. He’d never seen that look on him before. In fact, he was certain Snape only had the ability to show three expressions; disgust, indifference, and smirking.

Snape peered over the edge for a little while then straightened back up turning swiftly and following the blood trail the opposite way, walking directly to Harry who held his breath.
The man still had that odd, concerned look on his face.

“Potter,” He spoke, holding his wand out, “Show yourself, now.” He demanded.

Harry stared at him like a deer in headlights.
No way in hell was he going to let Snape see what he’d done.
The man would probably laugh and tease him about it for the rest of his life.
Oh yes, he could see it now. ‘The Boy Who Lacerates’, Snape would surely tell all his little Slytherins too.
Merlin, Draco would never let it down. Ever. And what would his friends think?

Harry didn’t want to find out.
So, he chose to do what he knew to do best in situations like this.

He ran.

Chapter Text

Despite his seemingly hateful demeanour, Severus Snape truly despised a surprisingly small number of things in life; The Dark Lord, bright colours, and the two months of summer holidays at the end of every school year.

His fellow colleagues had been discussing their holiday plans for the past few weeks, and Severus was sick of it. Minerva was visiting family, Sybill was off on a ‘spiritual’ journey (he didn’t ask exactly what that entailed), and Pomona was travelling the country to visit different gardens. Severus had snorted at that one. He wouldn’t have the luxury of travelling or visiting anyone for pleasure. Instead, he would be waiting for that familiar burn in his left arm. Oh, he simply could not wait.
He truly despised the holidays. Two months was far too long to preoccupy oneself, as Severus had quickly learned after his first couple of years as a Potions professor. During his first working years, he would go off and travel, particularly with an interest in seeing which kinds of useful potions were used abroad and learning them himself.
But now, his usual school holidays consisted of mainly potion-making, improving his spells and Occlumency, and letting a certain old wizard Floo him at ungodly hours.

That certain old wizard had been the one to break the news at the End-of-Term meal that he had returned, and it divided the school into believers and non-believers almost instantly. Severus himself knew the truth, and so did many of the other Hogwarts professors, bar the odd few who were simply fooling themselves by denying the inevitable.
And of course, the Potter boy knew the truth too. Severus had kept an eye on the boy after the Triwizard tournament, it was undeniable that the things he had seen and experienced had changed him. He walked around like a shell of himself, and it perturbed Severus endlessly. Not only that, but passing Potter in the hallway, Severus had seen that all too familiar look in the boy’s eyes, Lily’s eyes, and it did not belong there. However, he was sure Potter would go home, be pampered by his relatives, perhaps meet up with Granger and Weasley, and then come back at the beginning of the next school year as boisterous as usual.
Yes, Severus was certain of it.

Another fact he was certain of, was that his fellow colleagues often neglected their duties at the end of term.
Tearful students were often found wandering the halls late at night, saying their goodbyes to Hogwarts and their friends, some for the final time. Severus was absolutely not a pushover, but he did understand their young minds were running wild at the thought of having to leave their beloved school and friends behind, so occasionally he turned a blind eye to them.
He often volunteered to patrol the night before the summer holidays. Partly due to his frequent inability to sleep, and partly due to the amusement he got when seeing the shocked faces of several students when he let them off with a snide remark and a goodbye.
What he did not allow, was students wandering into classrooms, the Great Hall, or the kitchens for midnight snacks.
Ironically, as a student, Severus had often done all three.

He pondered on this as he left his quarters and made a stop at the Slytherin common room. Stepping in, he noticed several students sitting around chatting and playing chess. Once they noticed him, they went silent and froze like deer in headlights.
Severus looked over each of them, remembering individually the first day they had stepped foot into Hogwarts as frightened children, and now most were leaving as bright young adults that Severus had guided and influenced.
He felt somewhat… proud.
Merlin’s beard, sometimes he truly feared the Headmaster was rubbing off on him with his sentimentality.

“Watch your pawn, Bole. I fear your chess skills are as abysmal as your ability to hit Bludgers towards the opponents and not the crowd.” Severus drawled, making several students snicker.
He folded his arms, “Those of you that leave us tomorrow. I would like to say, it has been… pleasant… to be your Head of house. I wish you all well with your futures.” He said then looked at the younger students, “I will see the rest of you come September. Goodnight.”

The students just gawked back at him.
Severus rolled his eyes then turned and left, his cloak billowing behind him in its typical bat-like way as he made his way up the stairs out of the dungeons.

-----

Severus had been walking for some time, just silently listening to the ambient noises of the castle, when he bumped into one of his younger Slytherins tiptoeing down the hallway.
“Miss Murphy, I do not recall you being unable to find your way to your dormitory before curfew.” He said narrowing his eyes at her,

“Well… I um…” Saoirse stuttered then looked as though she remembered something, “Sir, Potter’s gone missing.”

Severus scowled, “What do you mean by missing?”

The girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other,
“Well, I was visiting a… a friend in Gryffindor,” She started. Severus raised an eyebrow, not many of his students even spoke to Gryffindors, let alone were friends with them. Though Severus obviously could not object to it.
“And we were sat by the fire when we heard one of the dorm doors open. Course, being a Slytherin I know tricks Sir, so I carried on talking to my friend while listening out. I could hear shuffling noises, and whoever it was left. But the thing is Sir, there was a mirror in the common room pointing that way, and we didn’t actually see anyone go past. My friend told me it’s the dorm Potty-Er, Potter, stays in, and I know he is powerful and stuff,” She explained, sounding pained at admitting Potter was a good wizard, “So, I reckon he used some sort of spell to make himself invisible, Sir.”

Severus nodded trying deeply not to roll his eyes. Potter’s bloody invisibility cloak.
“I see. Thank you, Saoirse. Now get to bed and do try not to get caught on your way back. I will see you next term.” He said then swooped past her walking quickly. He pulled his wand out heading towards Gryffindor tower.

“Appare Vestigium.” Severus cast into the dark corridor outside the Gryffindor common room and watched as a golden pair of footprints appeared on the floor. Severus scowled and followed the footprints down the tower and down several long hallways. He quickened his pace as he realised exactly where the prints were headed: the Astronomy wing, so most likely to the Astronomy tower.

-----

Severus paused outside the door to the tower, he placed his ear to the door listening carefully, but he couldn’t hear anything. He pushed the door open wincing as it creaked, he had hoped to arrive silently so as to catch the boy in whatever mischievous activity he was doing up here. As he climbed the stairs into the main room, he looked around for any sign of Potter, holding his wand tightly as he scanned the area but saw no one.
He looked down at the gold footprints for guidance, then froze.
Deep red splatters were soaked into the wooden floor.
Blood. No doubt Potter’s blood.
Had the boy been attacked up here?
Severus paled. He hadn’t noticed any blood on his way to the tower itself, so if Potter was attacked, it was here.
He followed the footprints with his eyes, noticing more blood splatters, and saw it stopped at one of the tower edges.
Surely not…
The boy couldn’t have been attacked and fallen, could he?
No. He rationalised his thoughts quickly. This could not have been an attack. The castle wards would have alerted them of an intruder. Dumbledore would have known an attack was imminent, the old man knew everything.
That left only one other possibility…
Could the boy have jumped?
Severus drew in a deep breath and then approached the edge, shivering a little, though he was unsure if it was due to the wind or because of the possibility that Harry Potter was dead.
He had promised Lily he would protect the boy as well as he could.
Had Severus failed his promise not because of the Dark Lord, but because of the boy himself?
He held on to the metal railing and peered over the edge cautiously.
Though it was dark, enough light emitted from the castle that he would be able to see if anyone was below. He prayed to all the Gods above that there would not be.
It seemed they heard him. Below he saw nothing but the grass and bushes that surrounded the castle.
He let out the long breath that he had been holding.
That meant Potter was still here. No doubt hiding under his father’s blasted invisibility cloak.

“Potter,” He spoke, “Show yourself, now.” He demanded then stumbled back startled as an unseen force rushed past him. Severus swore quietly. He flicked his wand towards the direction that the boy had run and heard the door to the tower swiftly shut and lock.

Severus heard a strangled cry as the boy tried to pull the door, but it remained firmly shut.

“You are injured,” Severus said bluntly, “Show me.” He said narrowing his eyes. He heard Potter’s snivelling and rolled his eyes, “Potter, show me or I will confiscate your cloak immediately.” He snapped and heard Potter gasp quietly. Ah, that seemed to get to him.

The boy pulled the invisibility cloak off, his head hanging down.

Severus looked him over and then caught sight of the red stains adorning the cuffs of his white shirt. He felt another cold shiver. “Mr Potter? What is the meaning of this?” He frowned and reached for the boy’s arm but paused as he flinched away from him.

“It’s nothing, Sir. Just fell on the stairs, that’s all.” Harry said wiping his eyes and finally looking up at Severus, his eyes quickly filling back up with tears.

Severus studied him, he had never seen the boy in such a state. His hair being dishevelled was nothing new, but it seemed worse so, and his eyes were remarkably bloodshot.
“Be that as it may, it is my duty as one of your Professors to check any wounds. May I roll up your sleeve, Po- Harry?” Severus asked and ignored the stunned look thrown his way at calling the boy by his first name.

Harry looked back down again and nodded in defeat. Severus undone the cuff button of Harry’s left sleeve and peeled it back carefully and watched as row after row of deep wounds appeared.
Severus knew what they were immediately and didn’t even need to clarify with the child before him if he had done them himself.
He tried not to show any emotion that would scare the boy away, but he felt something deep inside him. Sympathy? Remorse? Severus couldn’t place his finger on it right now. Right now, his feelings were not important; Harry’s were.

“I am going to heal your wounds. Okay, Potter?” Severus said drawing his wand. The boy did not respond and looked paler than before. Severus swore internally.
“Vulnera Sanentur.” He hissed three times and watched as all but one wound closed. The biggest wound was gashing blood alarmingly.
Severus frowned and looked at him, “Potter, I’m going to have to Apparate us so I can help you properly.” He said noticing Harry now appeared to be swaying. Severus swore out loud this time and quickly Apparated them both to the Infirmary.

Chapter Text

“The boy's magic refused to cooperate, Albus.”

“Yes.”

“He almost died because of it. What say it happens again? What say no one is around to help him next time?”

“It will not happen again, Severus.”

“And how do you know that? Do you expect to place trackers on the boy? It is the summer holidays; do you truly believe-” Snape’s voice was full of venom.

“Enough.” Dumbledore’s hushed voice sounded dangerous.

Snape fell silent.

“He will remain here for as long as it takes to ensure his safety.”

“But the blood wards…”

“Harry’s safety is crucial. If he goes away to his relatives, we cannot ensure that. At least not yet.”

Harry felt guilty. He had caused issues for the professor that hated him the most, and the Headmaster that hated him the least. He thought it quite ironic really. But also staying at Hogwarts meant not going back to the Dursleys. Harry liked that idea very much.

He had been listening to the pair for quite some time, drifting in and out of sleep. He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes just yet and face the pity in the eyes of his elders. Especially Snape. The man loathed him, he was shocked Snape hadn’t celebrated when he found out what he’d done.
He noticed then that both men were silent.

“Potter?” Snape said and from what Harry could hear it sounded like he came and sat next to him. Must be an illusion, Harry thought. But no, Snape spoke again from beside him, sounding closer this time and in a hushed voice, “We know you are awake. Can you open your eyes?”

Damn it.

Harry slowly opened his eyes wincing at the brightness of the all too familiar infirmary. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted and reached over for his glasses putting them on. With them on he noticed the tight bandages around his arm. Sitting up in the bed slowly, he looked at the two men that were staring back at him as though any moment he would shatter into a thousand pieces.

Harry wanted to jump into a black hole.

“Harry, I am glad to see you’re awake. How do you feel?” Dumbledore asked, his usual sparkling eyes were dull, and he looked every bit of his old age.

Harry hated it. He didn’t deserve his pity; he didn’t need it either. He just wanted to be left alone. Bloody Snape, obviously the man would have told Dumbledore, how could he not. Harry supposed the entire wizarding world would know next, and surely it would be the front page of the Daily Prophet before long.

Harry grimaced at the thought, “I’ve been worse, Sir.”

“Mr Potter, are you aware of what happened last night?” Snape asked. The man didn’t have pity in his eyes, he just looked… Inquisitive… Like Harry was a particularly difficult potion to brew.

Harry thought for a moment and the visions of what happened came back to him.
Punching the mirror, sneaking out of his common room, harming himself up in the Astronomy tower.
That momentary serene feeling he’d felt after he’d cut where everything felt clear and real, and he’d looked out at the stars in the night sky before it was all ruined by Snape being nosy.
The look that was on Snape’s face as the man had looked over the side of the tower: incredible fear, then calming realisation.
He had never seen Snape look so concerned before. It was disturbing.
Perhaps Snape had thought one of his Slytherin’s had jumped. Yes, that was most likely it. But the man had known it was him… And he had called him Harry.

Harry jumped a little as he was pulled out of his thoughts by Snape clearing his throat,
“Oh, right, yes Sir, I remember,” He said a blush creeping onto his cheeks as he looked down at his bandaged arms, “I didn’t want to die, you know.” He blurted out before he could stop himself. He didn’t want them to think of him as escaping his responsibilities. He was just so tired of everything.

Dumbledore nodded, that grave look still on his face, “Then why…?” He asked and looked at Harry’s arms.

Snape scoffed, “I think the why is obvious. Don’t you? Potter has been through a lot of stress over this past year, not to mention his previous school years.” He snapped and Harry’s eyebrows raised as high as possible, was Snape being understanding towards him?

Dumbledore looked like a scolded puppy, “Yes… Yes, quite right. Well, I truly am glad to see you better, Harry. I will leave you to the care of Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey for now.” Dumbledore said solemnly and turned around, apparating away. Harry didn’t miss the tear that fell down the old man’s cheek.

-----

For the next ten minutes, Snape had been sat silently reading the newspaper next to Harry’s bed. Harry fiddled with his fingers feeling nervous about the whole situation, and having the professor that hated him the most next to him was not helping.
The door to the Infirmary opened and Madam Pomfrey walked in carrying a tray over to Harry’s bed. She placed it on his lap carefully, it had on it tomato soup, two slices of bread, and two vials with an unknown substance in them.

Harry felt sick just looking at it. “Um… Madam Pomfrey… I’m really sorry but I’m just not feeling hungry right now.” He said smiling a little at her in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

He heard Snape put down his newspaper, “Potter. You have been unconscious for over twelve hours. It is impossible that you are not hungry.” Snape drawled with one eyebrow raised quizzically. He was giving him that look again; that you-are-a-difficult-potion look.

Harry looked at the food then at Snape, he supposed they wouldn’t question if he really was unwell, would they? “Well, I am a little,” He lied, “I just feel rather queasy. Can I have it later?”

Snape sighed, “Mr Potter, you have to take those two potions, and to do so requires you to have eaten something first,” He said, “However, I suppose I could spell them alongside the food into your stomach instead.” He suggested.

Harry chewed his bottom lip shaking his head, “No offense Sir, but that sounds worse.”

The corners of Snape’s mouth twitched upwards, “Then you have no other option but to eat, Mr Potter.” The man sounded as exhausted as Harry felt, even after sleeping for twelve hours.

Looking down at the food, Harry was too tired to argue. He just wanted to go back to sleep. He picked up the spoon and began scooping the tomato soup into his mouth trying to ignore the nausea in his stomach and how quickly he felt full. Eventually he managed almost all of the soup and one slice of bread. Apparently it was good enough, as when he looked at Snape the man nodded towards the vials.
Harry supposed if he intended to poison him, he wouldn’t do so in the presence of Madam Pomfrey, so he did as was expected of him and quickly downed the potions.

Madam Pomfrey took his tray away and left the infirmary, leaving him alone with Snape once more. As much as Harry wished he would, the man did not resume reading his newspaper.

Snape stared at him for several moments until eventually he spoke, “Care to explain all this?” He asked, gesturing towards Harry’s arms.

Harry knew the man was already aware of exactly what his wounds were. Perhaps he wanted to relish in the moment Harry admitted it himself, “It helps.” Was all Harry offered.

“It helps,” Snape’s gaze bore right through Harry’s own, “With what?”

Harry looked down, avoiding the man’s piercing eyes as he closed his eyes. Though he could tell the man’s stare did not waver. “Everything.” Harry said, his voice soft and timid. He hated how pathetic he sounded. He opened his eyes again, expecting Snape to be smirking, to be pleased. Instead, he found the man was not smirking, nor were his eyes full of pity. There was something in his eyes, though Harry could not decipher what.

Severus straightened up in his seat and sat leaning back crossing one leg over the other. “Last night when I healed you in the tower, one of your wounds refused to close. In fact, I believe it got worse. It required both my own and Madam Pomfrey’s magic to properly close it.” He spoke, the interest clear in his tone.

Harry looked at him shamefully, “Er… Sorry Sir… I don’t know why that happened. Honestly.”

Snape hummed and nodded once, “I see,” He sounded doubtful, “Did you wish to die, Mr Potter?” He asked in a very matter-of-fact way.

Harry felt his heartbeat racing. Was that the problem here? That Harry wouldn’t be alive to save the wizarding world? Harry’s expression soured, “No.” He snapped.

“I see.” Snape said, again sounding doubtful.

Harry didn’t care what the man did or didn’t believe. Harry Potter truly did not want to die. Well, at least not right now. He was determined to defeat Voldemort and save his friends first. After that, he wasn’t sure what was left for him. He wasn’t sure he cared to find out either. He couldn’t imagine living to an old age, that was for sure.

“I’m not going to kill myself.” Harry said firmly, “It would be… Cowardly.” He added, imagining it would be the type of thing Snape would agree with.

Snape didn’t miss a beat, but his eyebrow raised, “Would it?” The man said, his eyes narrowing, “I disagree, Potter. I believe that sometimes things can get too much for one person to manage alone. Let alone that someone being a child with the fate of the wizarding world on his shoulders.”

Harry stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

Snape fought back the urge to roll his eyes, “Mr Potter, I am not lost to the idea of self-harm and suicide ideology.” He said then finally picked up his newspaper and resumed reading.

Harry frowned thinking on his words for a few moments, then it dawned on him.

It appeared he and Snape had been entirely wrong about one another all along.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t the first time Severus had been entirely wrong about a student.
Being a professor to many, and the Head of Slytherin, meant he was familiar with the troubles and woes many students faced at Hogwarts.
For the first-years, and some spoiled second-years, it was typically the trivial inability to sleep away from home, and Severus had spent many nights awake with snivelling brats that missed their parent's coddling.
In the middle years of schooling, his Half-Blood and Muggle-born Slytherins were often bullied by Pure-Bloods.
Severus was all too familiar with bullying.
He took great satisfaction in punishing bullies, though he was aware many considered him to be one too.

It was also typically a time of emotions running wild due to self-discovery, and Severus had spent many nights lending an ear to his pubescent Slytherins.
Oh yes, he had seen it all; the loss of family, depression, pressure to join the Death Eaters, love, heartbreak. All that and in between, Severus had seen it.
He had experienced it, too.

He knew how dark things could get, and that was without being the saviour of them all.

Harry had fallen back to sleep not long after eating. Severus stayed by his side, reading the paper but his eyes were unmoving. He was busy thinking. He had thought of contacting Minerva but decided against it until a later time.
After all, with the imminent return of the Dark Lord, it could be her last time visiting family.
Severus shuddered at the thought. He also knew Potter most likely wanted as few people as possible to know.

“I require you to make a visit.” A solemn voice jolted Severus out of his thoughts, and he lowered his paper to glare at the old man standing at the foot of Potter’s bed, “We must tell the boy’s family.”

Severus’s shoulders tensed, and his lips formed a thin line of disgust as he reigned back his desire to groan and complain like a child.
But why should he have to go?
Though rationally he knew all the other professors had departed Hogwarts by now, and it would be a bother to call one back now when he was already here.
“As you wish.” He knew better than to argue with the headmaster who looked worse for wear, “I shall go immediately.” He wanted the interaction with her to be over as soon as possible.

-----

Privet Drive was just as he remembered it; posh and pretentious.
Houses were lined with luscious green front gardens with white fences that held immaculate flowerbeds. Everything was just perfect.
Severus despised it.
He walked up to number 4 and knocked on the door.
If it were different circumstances, he would have blown it right off the hinges.

Reflecting on it later, he wished he had.

“Coming!” A shrill woman’s voice called from inside. The door opened to a woman with a tight smile that did not reach her eyes. It fell immediately as she took in the man before her.

“Hello, Tuney.” Severus sneered; his own glare fixed on hers.
He did not care for her appearance, but it pleased him that she was still as pinch-faced as ever.

Petunia backed away from the door, “You!” She gawked pointing an accusatory finger at him, “Get away from my house!”

A fat man peered from around the doorway to the living room, “Who is it?”
Ah, Vernon Dursley.

“Severus Snape. He’s from that… That freak school.” Petunia spat.

Severus stepped in looking past Petunia and went straight into the living room much to Vernon’s displeasure at having to turn down the television.
Severus had his wand concealed up his sleeve, ready just in case.
His eyes scanned around the living room. It was very pristine, plain, and boring.
Just like the Dursleys.
Several photographs adorned the mantelpiece above the fireplace.
All pictures contained just the three of them, no sign of Potter. Odd.

Just then a large teenager came bursting into the room, “Who’s this, Mum?” He demanded looking at Severus curiously, “Are you one of those freaks too?”

Severus glowered at the boy.
Dudley Dursley.
Such a shame he was raised by two beasts.
“If by freaks you mean a wizard very capable of turning you into nothing but a common house fly, then yes.” He didn’t approve of threatening children, but this one was different, and Severus never claimed to be a good man.

Severus turned to face the boy’s parents, “May we speak privately?”

They both scoffed, “Absolutely not. How dare you come into this house-” Vernon began.

Severus held a hand up to silence him, “I do not have all day. I suggest you both follow me.” He snapped and walked into the kitchen not waiting for their reply. The two adults followed behind him warily, leaving their tense son stood in the hallway.

Severus turned to face the insolent couple, “Are you aware that Mr Potter was due home today?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, of course.” Petunia gawked as though he was accusing her of some great misdoing.

Even if Severus wasn’t skilled at Legilimency, he was certain he would be able to read her lie easily.

“Is he in trouble again?” Vernon asked with not an ounce of sympathy, just irritation.

“No. He has… Caused harm to himself, and-” Severus began to explain.

“On purpose?” The woman asked.

Severus nodded and folded his arms, “Yes. He did so last night and has been in the school infirmary since.”

Petunia looked at him. The disapproval was clear on her face as her lips pursed into a thin line, “So what does this mean?”

“It means, Tuney,” Severus began, “That he is required to reside within the castle for a while longer. Therefore, I have come for Potter’s belongings.”

Petunia spluttered in disbelief, “I don’t think so! How dare you come into this house making demands!”

“I suggest you do as I request before something freakish happens.” Severus stated then watched as she called Dudley into the room asking him to gather Harry’s possessions.

The boy shot out of the room stomping upstairs groaning at having to do the measly chore.

Severus left the kitchen not wanting to spend any longer than necessary with the couple, so he chose to stand in the hallway instead. He leaned against the wall with his arms folded and looked up the stairs waiting for Dudley to return, tapping his foot impatiently.
His gaze eventually lowered and fell on a cupboard under the stairs.
He stared for quite some time pondering what exactly was off about it, then looked through the kitchen doorway at Petunia,
“Why are there locks on the outside of this cupboard?” He asked.
Severus knew it wasn’t entirely uncommon to have locks on cupboards, but something was drawing him towards this specific one. He felt an odd trace of magic coming from it.
Had Potter hidden something in there perhaps?

He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to it casting a wordless Alohamora, peering inside.
The cupboard was unremarkable and incredibly Muggle.
A dustpan and brush hung on the door, and a couple of shelves were filled with various appliances and standard junk.
Severus frowned.
The magic in the cupboard felt intense, though he knew the Dursleys would not be able to tell.
He took another look around the cupboard until his eyes fell on a row of neatly positioned toy soldiers, and next to them a tattered teddy bear.
They looked so out of place with all the other junk in the cupboard.
It looked as though they had been placed there deliberately.
He picked the bear up and could feel the magic radiating off it. How odd for Potter’s toy to be in such a place and not in his bedroom.
He stepped away from the cupboard as Dudley stomped back down the stairs with a half-full bin bag.
Why in Merlin’s name did Potter have so little belongings?
Something felt incredibly wrong.

He knew there was only one way to get answers here. He pointed his wand at Dudley ignoring the whimper from Petunia, “Why are Mr Potter’s toys in this cupboard?”

Dudley dropped the bin bag wide-eyed and held his hands up in surrender, “H-He used to sleep in there.”

Severus looked at the tiny cupboard, then at the lock on the outside of it.

The penny dropped.

Severus felt a surge of rage run through him.

He turned to face Petunia and pointed his wand at her, “You abhorrent woman! You were supposed to care for him!” He growled, “The boy is your own nephew!”

“We didn’t ask for him! It was your lot who dropped him on us! If Lily-”

“Enough!” Severus’s voice boomed throughout the house, causing it to shake at its very foundation.
A large crack manifested itself onto the wall next to him.
He could not stay here any longer unless he wished to end up in Azkaban.
He grabbed the pathetically far-too-light bag that lay on the floor, “Do not speak of Lily. She would be so proud of what you have become, Petunia.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Vernon stepped closer to him, “Don’t you talk to my wife like that! We did everything we could for that boy!” The man's face went redder with every word, “He is an ungrateful brat, and we taught him his place!”

For Potter to be taught his place. Severus felt himself go pallid at the meaning of those words, having heard them often in his own childhood.
“If I find out either of you have physically harmed the boy, I will not be responsible for my actions.” He growled, “You will not see him ever again, and if I were you, I would watch my back,” He snarled pointing his wand at the man and his wife who were shaking, “The wizarding world has many people that adore Harry and would kill you without a second thought if they just so happened to find out about this.”
Severus put the toys into the bag before shrinking it. He knew although the boy was no longer young enough to be sitting around playing with toys, he would appreciate having his items back, especially due to the boy’s magic that radiated off them.

He then turned leaving the house in disgust, saying nothing more to the vile family he left behind, and made his way back to the boy in the infirmary that he had been so awfully wrong about this entire time.

-----

Severus sat by Harry’s bedside as he slept.

He had yet to tell Albus of his discovery. He needed time to calm down and think, especially after almost turning the Dursley’s house into rubble.

Except he didn’t know what to think anymore.

All this time he was led to believe the boy was spoiled and living a life of luxury.
He had taunted the boy with such words.
He had openly disliked the boy because of it, and because of his father’s tormenting in school.
Right now, Severus did not feel much different than James at all, loathe it be for him to admit it.
He felt incredibly foolish.

Though the boy looked so much like his father, an equal part of him was Lily too.
Especially those eyes.
Eyes that had stared at him curiously across the Great Hall.
Eyes that had blazed with fury with every remark thrown at them.
Eyes that had become so lifeless with the fire inside burnt out.
Severus could pinpoint the exact same moments on the boy and his mother.

How could he let this happen again?

Severus often Occluded his feelings, but these he forced himself to feel.
He had let her down. He had broken his promise to protect the boy.

But… Perhaps he wasn’t too late to save the boy.

The boy was still alive and currently sleeping peacefully.
The boy whose secrets and life had been upturned and were about to be even more so with the discovery of abuse brought upon him by his own family.
The child would return to them over Severus’s dead body.

His eyes trailed to the teddy bear that lay listlessly atop the bag that contained the small number of belongings the boy had accumulated over the years of living – no, surviving - under the Dursleys roof.
The teddy was old and worn, with an eye missing and flat, dusty fur.
Severus levitated it into the air.
He rationalised it would not do well for Harry to have such a filthy toy near his wounds in case of infection. Though the toy had yet to actually be near him at all.
Severus cast a cleansing spell on it and gave its eye back for good measure.
He then levitated the bear into the bed, placing it next to the child.

Severus watched curiously as the boy curled up and pulled the toy close to his chest in his sleep.
He thought of how many times the boy had probably slept in such a way in that tiny cupboard under the stairs.
He thought of how before today, he would have ridiculed and criticised Harry for finding comfort in a teddy bear.

But now… Merlin knew the child needed any possible comfort he could get.

Chapter Text

When Harry woke up, he immediately knew something was off.

First of all, it was nighttime. That meant he’d slept through yet another day.
The infirmary was dimly lit by the flickering lanterns on the wall and several candles that suspended themselves in midair.
Although he didn’t have his glasses on, he had been in the infirmary enough times to recognise the shapes around him; the beds on either side and opposite him, the paintings on the wall, the small railings on either side of every bed for privacy.
He could see darkness under the door that led to Madam Pomfrey’s quarters. Good. That meant the medi-witch was asleep. He didn’t feel up for interacting with anyone right now.
Rubbing his eyes, he reached over for his glasses and put them on. As he sat up, he felt his hand brush against something small and soft in the bed next to him, he looked down and was stunned to see a teddy bear nestled in the bed against him.

He frowned picking it up and looked closer. His heart fell all the way down to his feet.
This was his bear. Or, well, it had been his bear a long time ago back at the Dursleys before they locked it away in his cupboard... And it looked in much better condition than he remembered. How the hell was it here?

Harry looked up from the bear and only then did he notice the slumped form of his Potions professor in an armchair next to his bed, and on the floor next to him lay a black bin bag.

Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed, being very careful not to make a sound and wake Snape. Leaning over to the bag, he slowly moved it so he could look inside.
He paled quickly as he noticed the toy soldiers and the ragged hand-me-downs from Dudley.
Only then did he realise exactly how his childhood toy had ended up at Hogwarts.

Snape had been to see the Dursleys.

His mind suddenly filled with images of Snape sitting with the Dursleys having a good old laugh about the misfortunes he had experienced. Perhaps even his Aunt had got the fine china cups out, as she often did for guests she liked.
He could imagine them laughing about this latest incident too.

“Cut himself you say? How positively freakish! Always looking for attention that one!”
“Yes, I completely agree, Mrs Dursley. Potter is an egocentric boy.”

He needed to get out of here. He couldn’t be near Snape right now. He couldn’t be near anyone right now.
Before he could think rationally, he rushed past his still-sleeping teacher and ran out of the infirmary.

He didn’t know where he was going, he just needed to run.
He needed to get somewhere quiet, somewhere he could think alone.
His chest felt so tight. He became far too aware of his breathing and had to stop running to catch his breath.
He put his hand on his chest trying to still his beating heart.
The tightness in his chest stayed. He felt like he was being crushed all the way through his chest to his back and he doubled over, throwing up before he could stop himself.

He coughed and spluttered reaching out to hold on to the wall, but he missed and fell to the floor.
He curled up into a ball willing the ache to stop. Willing it all to stop.
Then became aware of a cool breeze hitting his face.
He slowly cracked one eye open.
No longer was he in the hallway.
He was looking out across the Black Lake and at the rolling hills beyond.
He was in the Astronomy tower.

Harry shakily sat up as his breathing slowed, but the pain in his chest stayed. He shuffled closer to the edge of the tower and sat with his legs dangling off the side, aware of how familiar the scene felt.
He closed his eyes and leaned against the pillar next to him.
The breeze picked up and he shivered a little but welcomed the feeling.
It almost felt serene.
He looked down at the bandages on his arms.
Doing that had made him feel serene.
It had cleared his mind. He could control the pain. He could handle it.
Pulling out his wand, he pointed it at his arm, “Diffindo.” He muttered and watched as one of the bandages cut cleanly down its length and fell off. He did the same to the other side then looked at his arms properly.
The red cuts had faded to scars, a dozen pink dashes across each arm.
Harry didn’t care. He wanted that feeling again.

“Harry,” A voice cut through his thoughts.

Snape.

“Go away.” Harry said softly, his voice quiet.

He heard the footsteps getting closer, “Harry.” The man sounded desperate.

Harry blinked a few times, a little taken aback by Snape’s tone, “Stop calling me that.” He mumbled, “And please just leave me alone.”

Snape moved closer and knelt next to Harry, “I cannot do that,” He was very close now, “Look at me please.”

Harry shook his head. His eyes fixated on his arms. He felt Snape’s hand under his chin turning his head to look at him.
Only then could Harry notice the man was giving him an odd look.
His brow was furrowed and his eyes searched Harry’s own,
“Stop looking at me like that.” Harry said and broke his gaze looking down as he subconsciously wrapped his arms around himself.

“Like ‘that’?” Snape echoed.

“Like I’m going to shatter into a thousand pieces in front of you.”

Snape took in a deep breath. Harry closed his eyes waiting for the insults to start because how dare he imply Snape cared.

“Potter, I am looking at you that way because I fear it will become true.”

Harry stared ahead over the dark lake.
Had Snape really just said that?
Perhaps he was just afraid he would be accused of Harry’s falling apart. That had to be it. There was no other alternative.

“It’s not your fault, Sir.” Harry said quietly.

“What isn’t?” Snape sounded puzzled.

“If I did shatter, nobody would blame you.”

“I myself would blame me.”

Harry’s head turned to look at his professor, now it was his own turn to look puzzled, “Blame yourself for what?”

“Being unable to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Harry said, his eyes wide as he looked at his professor incredulously. Well, he supposed it wasn’t the first time the man had protected him as he thought back to a particular cursed broomstick, “From what?”

“Yourself.”

Harry felt overwhelming shame.
Potions Master Severus Snape protecting The Boy Who Lived from his own self instead of Voldemort. Someone who could do real true harm to him. No, instead he needed protecting from himself.

“Do not feel ashamed,” Snape said, his voice demanding it, as though he’d read Harry’s mind or something, “Harry, I went to your Aunt’s-”

Harry had forgotten all about that.
He recoiled and stood up quickly, “I know you did. You had no right to go through my things!” He shouted; he didn’t care if he got detentions for the rest of his schooling life. He wanted his voice to be heard for once instead of shushed or dismissed, “I bet you had a great time, didn’t you? Probably sat there giggling with my Aunt and Uncle.” Harry moved away from his professor who had stood up brushing himself off, “Oh, and I know they told you all about the cupboard. I bet you loved that! I bet you wrote that one down for future refer-”

“Silencio!”

Well, so much for getting his voice heard. He supposed being shut up by a spell rather than a frying pan aimed at his head was much better though.
His breathing was ragged, and his body shook. Angry tears formed in his eyes, but he wiped them away quickly.

Snape was glaring at him furiously.
Oh, he’d definitely gone too far. He briefly wondered how many points would be deduced from his next year.

“Do not speak on matters you know nothing of, Potter,” The man snapped, “Yes, I went to see your family. Did it occur to you that they would need to be informed of your failure to arrive at Kings Cross Station?”

Harry blinked. It hadn’t.

“I thought not,” Snape scowled and stepped closer. Harry instinctively stepped back. The elder man sighed, and the scowl fell off his face as he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Harry, as much as we have not had a… Civilised relationship. I did not enjoy learning about your home life with the Dursleys at all. It was deplorable, and I made sure to let your Aunt and Uncle know so.”

Harry stared at him blankly.

Snape sighed heavily at his blank look, “Must I spell it out for you, child? I do not wish harm upon you whether it be magical, emotional, mental, or physical.”

Harry felt like he’d been dropped into a pool full of ice.
What the hell was the man saying? This was Snape. The man who hated his guts.
He watched as Snape cancelled the Silencio, but it didn’t matter because he had no words.

“Now come with me. It is far too chilly and dark up here to talk.” The man said and turned, sweeping towards the stairs leading down the tower.

Harry remained still. He didn’t want to go back to the infirmary.

Snape paused and looked over his shoulder at the boy, sensing his apprehension, “We shall go to my quarters. Now come, I do not have all night.”

That got him moving. He followed behind Snape, his gaze pointed down at the floor as he followed the man through the school.

Harry had never in a million years expected one day he would be sitting on a sofa in Snape’s quarters.
The place was as moody and dark as Harry had expected even though the fireplace was lit.
The quarters had a small but cosy living room, which was where he sat now, though he wasn’t sure if the correct term was living room as it appeared as though nothing in the room was personal to Snape at all. There were no pictures nor paintings, no ornaments nor trinkets. Nothing. Just a couple of full bookshelves and some jars of ingredients.
There were two doors at the end of the room, and the left one was ajar, Harry could see through it that there were four doors; three on the left wall and one at the end of the hall.
The end one, Harry assumed, led to the man’s bedroom.
Harry found his mind drifting to whether the man wore slippers or not.

The man was currently staring at him from his armchair while sipping tea. Harry had been given his own and was holding it in his lap not having drank any yet. He enjoyed the warmth from it though.

“What are you thinking?” Snape asked, seeing the boy had calmed from his episode in the tower.

“I was wondering if you wear slippers, Sir.”

Snape stared at him then sighed and rolled his eyes mumbling something about silly children, “Accio slippers.” He grumbled and a pair of black slippers shot through the hallway door and landed in front of the man’s feet. Harry watched as Snape’s boots untied themselves and Snape slipped his feet out of them and into the slippers,
“Does that satisfy your curiosity?” Snape asked raising his gaze.

Harry broke out into a giggle. Or, well, he was trying to stifle a giggle by hiding his mouth behind his hand. He hadn’t smiled properly in weeks or laughed at all. Not even when Hermione had hit Ron with a wad of paper for not packing his trunk until the very night before they left for the holidays.

Snape narrowed his eyes though Harry could tell there was no spite behind them, “What is so funny about slippers, Potter?”

“Oh, nothing Sir.” The boy grinned, no longer hiding his smile.

Severus huffed rolling his eyes again and sipped more of his tea then placed it on the side table next to his armchair, “I was not referring to your childish thoughts, I was referring to your thoughts in the tower.” The boy’s smile fell as he shrugged, “A verbal response would be beneficial for us both here.”

“Both?” Harry’s voice squeaked.

“I believe that is what I said, Potter.”

“No offense Sir, but I don’t want to talk to you about my feelings.” Harry said and folded his arms, “And quite frankly, I don’t think you want to hear them.”

“If I did not want to hear, Potter, I would not have asked. However, if you do not wish to talk to me, perhaps you would prefer to talk to Madam Pomfrey instead.” Snape said rising from his chair and straightening his robes.

Harry’s eyes widened. No doubt Madam Pomfrey would make a fuss over him, as well as lecture him about removing his bandages. She might even send him to St Mungo’s, now that was a thought even more terrifying than speaking to his Potions professor about his feelings.
“Wait!” He called out as Snape walked to the door, “I… I’ll talk.” He hung his head low and felt himself deflate.
The little joy he had felt at seeing Snape wearing slippers was long gone.

Snape sat back down in his chair and resumed drinking his tea. He had not banished it before walking to the door as he knew Harry would change his mind at the mention of going back to the infirmary.
“Before you do, I want to make myself very clear,”

Harry stilled. Here it came; what he said in the tower had just been a joke, a cruel ruse to get him away from the edge.

“I will not share anything we discuss with anyone else, unless you are in serious danger,” Oh, that was not what he expected at all. “Do you understand?”

He didn’t, but he knew it was no good telling Snape he didn’t understand a simple sentence, so he settled with a “Yes Sir.”

“Very well. How about we begin with your… Relatives.” Snape suggested, making a face his voice suddenly turning bitter at the word relatives.

Harry couldn’t meet his professor’s eyes, “What about them?” He mumbled then flinched as Snape reached into his pocket. He briefly expected a hex to be thrown his way until he saw a familiar toy.

The bear was levitated to him, and he took it flashing a mortified look at Snape, “This bear… You seem to have been very fond of it. I can feel your magic radiating off it.” Harry cocked his head to the side frowning at Snape’s words, “Sometimes in stressful situations, a witch or wizard can imprint their magic onto an object.” The man explained, “It’s quite common in children, although usually by the time they become of age, they no longer require the object and so the magic dissipates.”

Harry blushed furiously. He felt so childish and silly for apparently needing a teddy bear at his age.

“In fact, Professor Dumbledore has an enchanted pillow in his office.” Snape said and took another sip of tea. Harry looked at him inquisitively. Someone as strong and powerful as his headmaster had a special object as well?
The corners of Snape’s mouth twitched upwards, “I suggest the next time you find yourself there, which you no doubt eventually will,” He said pointedly, “That you keep an eye out for it.”

Harry smiled a little down at his bear and nodded, “One of my neighbours gave it to me when I was very young. Aunt Petunia was annoyed with her… And me for a while. But I used to play with it a lot… It kept me out of her way, so she let me keep it.” He explained then blinked and looked back at his professor as he took in a deep breath, “Why did you fix it?”

Placing his cup midair once again, Snape clasped his hands together in his lap, “It would not do well for such a filthy toy to be near your healing wounds.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged. Of course that would be the only reason, why had he expected more?

“And I could tell you cared deeply about the object, so I restored it for you.”

Harry looked up at that. He felt so conflicted.
Here was the man who had hated him for three entire years telling him he cared enough about an item Harry loved to fix it.
The man did not appear to pity him about his home life, nor about his… episodes.
So why on Earth was he being so pleasant?
“Thank you, Sir.” He said quietly.

“There is no need to thank me.” Snape said brushing his thanks off with a wave of his hand, “When your aunt was annoyed with you due to receiving the toy, what did she do?”

Harry’s fist clenched around the bear. He didn’t want to discuss this. Not now, not ever.
Tell him. He will help you.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
He released his grip on the bear and stared at it. It stared back at him motionlessly.
No. He was not at his grown age imagining a teddy bear speaking to him, much like he did as a child when he was locked in his cupboard.
He let go of the bear and put it face-down on the sofa next to him.
But what if the thought was right… What if Snape did help him?
What if he never had to see the Dursleys again?

Unbeknownst to Harry, that decision had already been made.

“She tried to take it off me,” He began, “So she could give it to Dudley. My neighbour gave him one too, but he wanted mine as well. I refused to let go and I… I…”

“You what, Harry?” Snape coaxed gently.

“I p-pushed her away with my magic… Aunt Petunia fell over in the kitchen. Then my Uncle Vernon came in after hearing her scream, and he hit me until I stopped crying…”

Silence.

Harry looked up.
His professor was gripping the armchair, his knuckles white. There was a faint rattling, and Harry noticed the teacup the man had been drinking from was trembling on the table.
Harry’s eyes widened. He should have known telling him about how he hurt his Aunt Petunia wouldn’t go down well.
He felt glued to the spot and trembled as the man rose from his chair. He grabbed his bear and closed his eyes tight wishing he was anywhere but here. The man before him was a powerful wizard, he had every spell imaginable at his disposal.

The silence continued for an impossible amount of time. Harry waited for the punishment that never came.

Suddenly, he felt cold… He felt… A breeze?
Opening his eyes, he stood in the middle of an all-too-familiar room, looking over an all-too-familiar lake.
He was up in the Astronomy tower again…

How?

He didn’t want to be here. Snape would instantly come looking for him here as he had done so earlier. He ran out of the tower and tried every door he came across. Each door was securely locked until, at last, one yielded, and Harry slipped inside.
It was dark inside, but he could faintly make out from the giant windows letting in the moonlight that it was just an ordinary classroom containing nothing more than desks and chairs. Exhaling deeply, he approached the furthest away window and settled into a small nook. Drawing the curtain behind him, he concealed himself from view.

He was uncertain about how long it would take for Snape to locate him and apprehend him for injuring a Muggle. He clutched his teddy bear tightly to his chest, age be damned.

As Harry sat gazing out of the window into the night sky, pondering whether Azkaban had any windows, a certain dark-haired wizard appeared outside of the Dursley’s residence.

A residence in which a life would be lost that night.

Chapter Text

The boy had simply disappeared after Severus had risen from his chair. One moment he was there, and the next he wasn’t.
There was no way he could have learned how to Apparate yet. Not even with Granger’s input.

He rushed to his fireplace and Flooed directly to the headmaster’s office. Albus was sitting behind his desk as though he had been expecting a visitor all along. Severus was suddenly grateful at the man’s night owl-ish behaviour.

“Potter has gone missing. I need you to look for him.” Severus said, his words were rushed as he pulled out his wand.

Dumbledore rose from his seat immediately, “Where are you going, my boy?” His eyes were full of alarm at the sudden commotion so late in the night.

“The Dursleys,” Severus hissed, his jaw clenched, “They harmed the boy physically. He just admitted so in my quarters in which he somehow Apparated away. I do not have time to discuss the details right now.” He paused to catch his breath, “Just find him.”

Severus disappeared with a pop, leaving behind the old man who immediately got to work to locate the lost child. Luckily with an almost empty castle, as only a few teachers remained, it would be relatively easy.

Once Severus stood outside the front door of the Dursley’s house, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself before he did something regrettable. The thought of burning their house to the ground did seem appealing but to cause harm to the young Dursley was something he did not wish to do, no matter how bratty the child was. He carefully cast a Silencing charm around the property before blasting open the front door. It hit the adjacent wall at force making the already deep crack from his previous visit even bigger.

Even though he didn’t want to hurt their child, he wanted to make damn sure that his entrance jolted them all awake from their no doubt peaceful slumber.

Severus strode into the house and stood in the living room with his arm extended gripping his wand securely.

First came Vernon plodding down the stairs, then following were Petunia and Dudley.

The woman shrieked, “D-Dudley go back to your room.”

The child didn’t move.

“Now!” She shouted. The child jumped, his eyes wide, and he stomped back upstairs slamming his bedroom door shut.

“You again! What the hell do you want?” Vernon asked loudly, “Get out or I’ll call the police!” He turned to leave the room, but Severus cast a quick stinging hex causing him to cry out in pain and stop in his tracks.

The two Muggles stood there trembling.
Good. He wanted them to fear him. Just like how Potter had feared them.

“I believe I told you during my last visit why I am here,” Severus growled, “I believe my exact words were that if I found out either of you physically harmed the boy, that I would not be responsible for my actions.”

The Dursleys paled.

“Needless to say; I found out.”

“And who told you this?” Vernon spat, “The boy himself I’ll bet! So he is not just a worthless brat, but a liar too!”

Severus clenched his jaw, “Harry is not worthless.” He bit out. Even in his previous years of false perception regarding the boy, he never once considered him as worthless, “He has more worth than you two will ever know. It is you who are worthless.”

Vernon barked out a laugh, “Do you hear this Petunia, he has gone soft on the boy!”

Stepping closer, Severus pointed his wand directly in the man’s face, “He is a child. One worthy of respect and care. Even if I cannot provide it myself, I will personally find someone who is not a pig-nosed despicable excuse of a man to do so.”

Vernon’s face reddened in anger at that, “I told you we did everything we could for that boy! He was dumped on our front door by your freakshow!” He spluttered, “We fed and clothed-”

“Do not finish that sentence unless you wish for me to turn you into the pig you are.” Severus warned darkly, “You did not feed nor clothe him whatsoever. The child is severely malnourished, he can barely eat, and those scraps you call clothes are hand-me-downs from your son!” He kept his wand aimed between the man’s eyes briefly recalling the various unpleasant mind-altering spells he knew.

“Nothing wrong with hand-me-downs!” Vernon scoffed, “And it is not our fault he doesn’t eat. He’s a filthy lying little-.”

Severus growled and backhanded the man with his wand-free hand. It had been a long while since he had physically harmed someone in such a way, but Merlin it felt good.

Vernon’s face turned impossibly red as he clutched his cheek, “How dare you!” He screamed, “You come into my house and assault me! Petunia call the police right now! I will not be treated like this in my own-” The man took in a deep breath, “My own…” He paused and clutched his chest breathing in loudly and taking in short breaths as he fell to the ground.

Severus scoffed watching him. Of all moments now would be the time for the man’s body to betray him. Severus thought it a shame he didn’t get to use his vast spell knowledge.
“He’s having a heart attack, call an ambulance.” He snapped at Petunia who let out a shrill cry and ran to the telephone straight away.
He crouched down helping the man to the floor and cancelled the Silencio surrounding the house.

He briefly thought about leaving the man on the floor and Apparating back to Hogwarts but a small voice inside his head reasoned that Harry would not approve of him leaving his uncle in such a state, no matter what abuse he had endured in his care. Bloody Gryffindor.

As Vernon lay on his back, Severus asked him questions to rouse his consciousness, of which the man was flitting in and out of. He was unresponsive to the questions. Severus tilted Vernon’s head back to open his airways and leant down listening for his breathing. It was there but very shallow.

Petunia appeared at the doorway, “Did you call them?” Severus was blunt with her as he checked for her husband’s pulse. She nodded coming and kneeling with him, her eyes wide and fixed on her husband.

Severus leant down once more, “He’s stopped breathing, move.” He snapped and Petunia got up quickly with a sob and ran to the front door no doubt waiting to guide the ambulance.
Severus began compressions on the man’s chest, idly remembering something about a Muggle song being the correct timing for it. Too bad he couldn’t remember it.

As a siren got closer to the house, Severus continued the compressions and listened for breathing but he couldn’t hear anything. This was not good.
Two strangers rushed into the room with a stretcher, quickly taking over from Severus’s position. He rose from kneeling and walked out into the hallway feeling rather out of sorts from the shock. Just a moment ago the man had been screaming in his face, and now he was on the brink of death, if not dead already.

He waited in the hallway and then moved as the paramedics manoeuvred Vernon out to the ambulance. Tears were streaming down Petunia’s face, and she stood wringing her hands as she followed them outside.

“Go.” She whispered with her back to Severus, “Just go before Dudley comes down. I never want to see you or that boy ever again.”

Severus did as she wished and returned to Hogwarts.

Being found by Dumbledore of all people was not what Harry expected, though he should have. He supposed it made the most sense for Snape to go to Dumbledore first to tell him about the Boy Who Lived harming his own aunt because he was a little scared.
Harry knew his headmaster, or soon-to-be former headmaster, was powerful and could easily hex him into a pliable enough state to transport him to Azkaban.

Dumbledore had arrived silently and peeled back the curtain much to Harry’s surprise.

The man sat down on the same ledge as him, perhaps he was going to talk about how disappointed in Harry he was.

“What will happen to Hedwig if I’m sent to Azkaban?” Harry asked still looking out the window, unable to meet Dumbledore’s eyes. If he did, he would see surprise in them, and a hint of concern.

“What would you possibly be sent to Azkaban for, my boy?” Dumbledore asked curiously.

Only then could Harry muster up to courage to look directly at him, “I hurt my aunt a few years ago with my magic… Did Sn- Professor Snape not tell you, sir?” He frowned, equally as confused as Dumbledore who was now laughing at him.
Harry’s cheeks turned crimson, and he pouted his lips in annoyance. Going to Azkaban was not something he found very funny at all.

“No doubt it was accidental, yes?”

Harry nodded.

“And perhaps… Was it in response to something she was doing? Something unkind?”

Harry nodded again and looked down. So, Snape had told him the Dursleys hurt him. So much for not telling anyone anything.

“You will not be going to Azkaban. Do not worry, my boy. What you did was accidental magic, and it is very common,” Harry felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders, “However, I know you must feel betrayed by Professor Snape telling me about your home life, but he was in a rush as he had to leave.”

Harry’s head snapped up, “He’s gone?” He straightened his back, “Where?” He was nervous at the implication. Had Snape gotten fed up with him and left? He supposed it was the summer holidays though, and Snape probably didn’t want to spend it traipsing around after him at every moment.

“Never mind that.” The man brushed off his query with a wave of his hand, “He told me you disappeared; could you explain what happened?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes kind and sparkling in their trademark manner.

Looking down at the toy in his arms, Harry held it out to Dumbledore who took it holding it gingerly with care, “Professor Snape shouted at me.” His gaze fixated down, “One minute I was sat in his quarters, the next I was in the Astronomy tower. It’s happened a few times now since my… My incident.” As he looked at the scars on his bare arms, he felt a prickling behind his eyes. He closed them for a moment to will away the tears that threatened to spill.
Had Snape really left for good? He felt an odd sense of loneliness. Snape had been decent to him the past few days. Sure, it had only been a small amount of time, but since his incident, it felt like Snape had really understood him and changed… Now it felt like that was all gone. And it was all his own fault. Snape had obviously gotten fed up and left because of him. He felt deep shame as he opened his eyes and looked up at Dumbledore, “I need the bathroom.” He said quietly.

Dumbledore nodded none the wiser, for once, and stood from the window ledge, “I trust you can find it from here, yes?” His smile was kind and bright. Harry felt even more guilty. “I shall wait for you outside this room, and then we shall return to the infirmary, is that alright Harry?”

No. “Yes Sir.” Harry nodded and left the room with the man. He trudged down the corridor, leaving behind the old man who was studying his teddy bear in fascination.

Once Severus returned to the castle, he made his way straight to the headmaster’s office, only to find it empty. He growled in annoyance, but also felt a stab of concern. Had the man not found Potter yet? That thought niggled in his brain as he swept out of the office and made his way through the corridors calling out for Albus until eventually he heard a response.

He turned a corner and there the man was, holding a familiar brown toy in his hands. Severus let out a breath of relief, so the child had been found.
“Ah Severus, you are back. Good. I told Harry you just had to leave for a moment,” The man’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, “He explained to me about this bear of his... And about how you lost your temper,” He flashed Severus a look of warning, to which the younger man folded his arms and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, “I believe this toy could be the reason behind his disappearances.”

Severus’s eyebrows peaked with intrigue, but that could water until later. Speaking of disappearances, “Where is he?” He asked looking around as though the boy had merely escaped his field of view.

“He told me he needed the bathroom; I told him to return to me here.” Albus said still observing the bear and levitating it before him.

Severus could have strangled the old man right then and there if he didn’t know the types of curses that he was capable of, “You imbecile!” His voice roared through the corridor, “You left him to go alone after what happened?” He shouted then spun on his heel running to the nearest bathroom. Albus followed behind in quick pursuit.

Bursting into the bathroom, Severus could see a pair of small feet sticking out from under one of the cubicles. Albus ran in shortly after and stood close behind as Severus ran to the cubicle unlocking it with a spell quickly.

Both men tried their best not to react at the sight before them.

Harry sat with his pale arms outstretched on his legs, angry red lines littered his right arm, and a deep gash spouted blood on his left. The boy’s head was lolled forward, a mass of dark hair obscuring his face. Severus paled as he crouched down, “Harry.” He said gently and conjured a towel to hold on the deep wound. He observed that it was not life-threateningly deep, thank Merlin.

The boy’s head lifted and stared at him with drooping eyes, “You came back.” The child muttered. Severus frowned as he put his hand on Harry’s cheek to support his head and prevent it from dropping again. The boy smiled leaning into the touch.

“Of course I came back, you silly boy.” Severus spoke gently, making Harry smile even more. He felt a tug on his robes and looked down seeing the boy had balled his fists holding on to him tightly. Severus imagined if his heart could break again, that this would be how it felt. “Come on child, you are hurt.” He mumbled and held on to the boy lifting him to his feet, but Harry was shaky and weak due to the loss of blood. “You’re going to be okay, I’ve got you.” He spoke and picked up the boy in his arms, his heart hurting impossibly more as he noted how light the child was.

Turning to Albus, he noticed the old man was pale and tearful, “Severus I-”

“Save it.” Severus snapped between clenched teeth, “It is not me who you should be apologising to.” He left the room in a quick stride, the boy trembled in his arms, his fist still holding tight to Severus’s clothes as though to keep the man from leaving.

He quickened his pace into an almost sprint until he reached the infirmary where he called for Poppy. The medi-witch appeared instantly, she too looked upon Harry with guilt, just as Albus had.
It appeared all three of them had failed the boy.

After Harry fell into a deep slumber aided by one of the many potions Severus had brewed, he and Poppy worked together to close his wounds one by one.
The pair found it difficult to treat the deep gash. Similarly to the first incident, the boy’s magic was preventing them from healing him completely.
They managed to stop the bleeding but were unable to fully close the wound. By the time they had finished attempting all possible ways to close it, it was light outside.

Severus sagged into the same armchair he had sat in prior, not taking his eyes off the sleeping boy before him, “Go rest, Poppy.” He spoke noticing the woman’s magic had drained her physically.

She looked at him, “Alright, but only for a few hours. Wake me instantly should anything happen.” Severus nodded in response and waited until he heard the door that led to her quarters close with a click before he pulled his chair closer to Harry.

Sighing heavily, he reached his arm out and then paused as he noticed blood on his arm. His shirt was covered in the child’s blood.
Similar to how Lily’s had been all those years ago.
No. He banished the thought. This was not the time to think about her.
She was gone, there was nothing more he could do about that.
But Harry was not, he could still help the boy. He needed to help him and fast before the unimaginable happened.

As he left his thoughts, he realised his hand was in the boy’s hair stroking it gently. He paused momentarily then carried on caressing the child’s head soothingly.

“What am I going to do with you?” He murmured.

No, the unimaginable would not happen. Not while he was around. Not ever.

Chapter Text

He waded through a black mist, moving forward but never really going anywhere.

Looking down, he saw nothingness. An endless void that somehow pulsated in his vision, or what he supposed was his vision since he couldn’t avert his eyes or close them.

It was as if he had no eyes but he could still somehow see.

He didn’t know how long he had been moving forward, or where he was going. He just knew he had to keep moving, he couldn’t stop.

Stopping meant giving up, and Harry Potter did not give up.

Harry had been brought into the infirmary several days ago, cradled in Severus’s arms.
If it were not for the circumstances, Poppy would have been stunned.

The boy was pale and grasping onto Severus for dear life, his refusal to let go had forced Severus to spell a Sleeping Draught into the boy’s stomach.

Healing the small cuts on Harry had been a simple but difficult task, not due to the complexity of it, but rather due to the sadness Poppy felt as she assessed every self-inflicted wound.

Memories of assisting a certain young Gryffindor werewolf had breached her mind, but she pushed those aside. It was not good to regard another entirely separate person whilst dealing with a current one.

The complexity had arrived, however, regarding a gash the boy had inflicted on his left arm. Poppy had assumed a Blood-Replenishing potion and Wound-Cleansing potion would work just fine, as well as a spell to close the wound. Only the Blood-Replenishing potion and Wound-Cleansing potion had worked. The wound would not close, and it fought against all their efforts.

This had sent herself and Severus into a panic. They worked tirelessly until the early morning when Severus had convinced her to rest. She was the better healer of the two, so it would do well for her powers to be restored with rest. She agreed, but instructed the man to wake her should anything happen.

And wake she did to the sound of Severus calling her name urgently.

She shot up running out of her quarters spelling her hair up into a bun as quickly as possible, and frowned as she entered to see Albus watching Severus who was gently shaking the boy.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” Poppy practically shouted, rushing over and swatting Severus’s hands away. Only then did she notice the panic in the man’s eyes, and the headmasters too.

Severus took a step back from the bed, his eyes remained glued on Harry, “Vernon Dursley is dead,” He began.
Poppy’s eyebrows raised though she was not too concerned about that oaf.
“And I administered Wiggenweld to Harry half an hour ago.” Now that did concern her. He should most definitely have woken up by now, as Wiggenweld was the antidote to any sleeping potion.

Poppy looked down at Harry who was sleeping so peacefully and blissfully unaware of his magical strength, “He doesn’t want to wake up… His magic is stopping him.” She said softly and sat down on the other side of the bed from Severus who had already collapsed back into the armchair he had conjured several nights ago. She watched as Severus observed the deep wound on his left arm muttering incantations in vain, as nothing worked to suture it.

“How can this be?” Albus asked looking between the three of them, “I apologise I am not well-versed in such terminology.” He added regretfully.

For a moment Poppy irritably wondered how a man over a century old could lack knowledge of anything. “There is no need to apologise, Albus, it is a rather complicated matter,” She sighed, “The basics are that Harry does not wish to wake up, therefore his magic is working against the Wiggenweld and keeping him asleep.”

Albus hummed in understanding, “How long will his magic keep him asleep?”

Poppy, who had been staring at Severus watching as he spoke gentle words to Harry, broke her gaze to look at Albus, “Until he wishes to wake up again. He could remain asleep until his core diminishes if he so wishes.”

Poppy returned her gaze to Severus, not missing the look of fear on Albus’s face.

Harry Potter may never wake up ever again.

It had been several days since Harry had retreated into a great slumber.

Exactly six. Severus had counted.

Who would have thought the boy’s summer would be like this merely nine days in, he thought sullenly. The child should not be in the infirmary, he should be outside in a park somewhere, playing in the mud, scraping his knees while climbing trees. Perhaps even at an arranged sleepover with the Weasley clan or Granger.
Anywhere but still at Hogwarts.

He mulled over this as he stirred boom berry juice into his Wiggenweld potion then left it to simmer, as per the instructions.

Severus had always loved Potions since he was a child. He was also always exceptionally good at making them, and often received top marks for his work. Truthfully, he found it relaxing more than anything, and it often cleared his mind and allowed him to think clearly.

It had taken a lot for him to leave Harry in the infirmary with Poppy. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, heavens no, it was that he wanted to be there to see those green eyes open again more than anything. To hold the boy’s hand and comfort him when he woke up.

He scoffed a little at his thoughts, merely two weeks ago it would have been a blasphemous thought; to hold the son of James Potter’s hand.

But everything had changed now.

Now, the boy was not just the son of James Potter or Lily Evans.
He was more than that. He was more than them.

Harry was a kind-hearted, generous, courageous boy. He protected his friends, and even sometimes his rivals. He was impossibly compassionate and fiercely loyal and saw the good in all. He was generous, and hardly ever turned down his peer's requests for help. He was humble, his fame seeming to bother him more than anything. He was quick-witted, his sharp tongue often getting him in trouble, though sometimes equally out of it too.

The child was not James Potter, nor was he Lily Evans.

He was Harry Potter.

Severus placed his hands on his workbench as he had to steady himself, his exhaustion hitting all at once. His back ached, his limbs felt heavy, and his eyes stung. He rubbed his eyes, willing them to cooperate with him as his mind whirred with the sudden epiphany that had struck him.

All this time, he had viewed Harry as a product of his parents, a boy with the personality of his mother and the looks of his father.
But Harry was more than that. Harry deserved more than that.

He needed to give Harry more than that.

“Good job for finally figuring it out, Sev.” He heard Lily’s voice scold him in his mind.
He supposed that getting only a few hours of sleep each night for several days would do that.

Before he could stop himself, in an exhausted daze he opened his mouth and words flew out, “What am I supposed to do, Lily?” He asked aloud to nobody.

“Care for him, Sev, that’s all he needs.” Lily’s voice responded.

“I killed his uncle.” Severus ground out rubbing his temples with his eyes screwed shut.

He could see Lily behind the closed lids, her fierce glare and arms crossed.

“You did not kill that pathetic excuse of a man, Severus. You saved Harry from him.”

Severus shook his head his eyes still closed, “I rid the boy of his parents, and now his remaining family too.” His voice was full of shame.

“Severus,” Lily’s voice sounded on the verge of tears, “James and I would have saved Harry tenfold, and I know you would too, I’ve seen it in your eyes…” Her voice was full of admiration, Severus felt unworthy of it but accepted the truth in her statement.

“Sev, you know what you must do. Please, for me.”

Severus nodded once. He did know what he needed to do.

“I forgive you.”

Severus’s eyes shot open. He stared at the empty space before him as he let out a shaky breath and a tear rolled down his cheek, “Thank you, Lily. I will not let you down again.” He spoke quietly. He didn’t know whether it was the exhaustion or truly Lily he had spoken to, but he had no time to waste.

He took in a deep breath and straightened himself up, wiping away his tears.

He had a matter of great importance to attend to.

With a newfound burst of energy, he glanced at his potion and waved his wand over it to check its status; he had roughly twenty minutes until it needed to be removed from the heat. How could he make sure he was here in time to take it off the heat? He pondered for a short while then sighed at his own stupidity as the obvious solution came to him.

“Dobby?” He called out to the empty room, and suddenly the house elf appeared in front of him. Dobby looked up at him wearily, clearly remembering having seen him at Malfoy Manor. Severus rolled his eyes, he himself did not use house elves often due to finding their servant-like behaviour incredibly grim, however, this was a dire matter, “This potion will be used for Harry Potter.”

Dobby seemed to relax at that, his already big eyes going wider, “Oh, Harry Potter! Harry Potter freed Dobby!” The elf bounced a little in excitement. Severus smirked a little, recalling how incredibly furious Lucius Malfoy had been after Harry’s little trick, “Dobby heard Harry Potter is not well…”

“You are correct Dobby. He is not well, not well at all. However, I called you here as I need you to turn the heat off on this potion when this timer runs out,” Severus instructed clearly and waved his wand making a timer appear over the cauldron, “Be very careful Dobby. Remember, this is for Harry Potter.”

Dobby nodded with urgency, “Yes Professor Snape, sir. Dobby will wait very patiently indeed! Dobby is happy to help Professor Snape and Harry Potter!” The elf turned to the cauldron and stood staring intensely at the timer.

Severus nodded pleased with the elf and conjured a stool for the elf to stand on and a pair of gloves to protect Dobby’s hands. He had heard a lot about Dobby aiding Harry from Albus and so was familiar with how dear he was to Harry, therefore he did not want any unnecessary harm to come to the poor elf.

Once Dobby was set, Severus left his private potions laboratory and opened the door next to it. It just served as a cupboard for various bits of junk; old jars, tools, cauldrons, essays from students he’d found amusingly terrible. He waved his wand and banished it all without a second thought and began waving his wand around.

The cupboard began stretching back further and further, then wider and wider until it was a decent-sized room and looked far from the cupboard it had previously been. Severus briefly wondered if he should have asked Albus about restrictions on renovating but shrugged the thought off instead. Oh well, too late now.

He Accioed various objects from his other rooms and transfigured them. A quill became a bed, a teacup became a desk and so on and so forth until eventually, he stepped into the room looking around pleased.

The room had been transformed into a spare bedroom; its walling a pale off-white colour, the floor a dark wood with a few rugs strewn across it. A double bed sat at the far end with light sconces on either side above two bedside tables. A full bookshelf sat against the right wall between a desk and a large wardrobe. Against the left wall was a chest of drawers and an empty bookcase, ready to be filled.

Severus smiled a little and nodded, it was pleasant and that was good enough.

Leaving the room, he took one last glance inside before he closed the door and made his way up through the castle.

“Severus, did you bring the Wiggenweld?” Poppy asked standing up from Harry’s bedside as soon as the man entered the infirmary.

“It should be cooling by now, but I have something important to ask you,” Severus spoke and stood at the end of Harry’s bed, looking at him, “What do you think about the possibility of relocating him?”

Poppy looked at him and frowned, “To St Mungo’s?” She asked, “I hadn’t assumed we were that incapable here.” But Severus was already shaking his head.

“No, Poppy. To my quarters.”

Poppy could see the pain in his eyes, and the determination and hope that he would be allowed. She looked back at Harry, then at the wound on his wrist, “I… I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” She said already thinking in her head whether Severus would be able to sufficiently care for the boy from a medical point of view. But truthfully, she reckoned the man could pass a Healing Exam with flying colours, “Alright, I’ll allow it. Have you asked Albus?”

“Asked Albus what?” The old wizard asked, apparently materialising from nowhere causing both herself and Severus to jump, “My apologies.” His eyes were twinkling. That meddling old man, Poppy thought fondly, he had been listening in all along.

Severus cleared his throat and turned to the headmaster, “I was enquiring if it were acceptable for Harry to reside in my quarters instead as he is not declining in health,” He said and folded his arms defensively, “I think it would be good to give Poppy time to recuperate her magic.”

The corners of Poppy’s mouth quirked upward; she could tell Albus already had no contest to his request. Truly Severus was oblivious sometimes, though perhaps it was due to the lack of sleep, she thought. She could see Albus’s eyes shining, “Oh I think that would be quite acceptable, don’t you Poppy?” Albus said and smiled at her warmly.

She nodded back, “Yes, I was just agreeing so too, Albus.”

“Good. It’s settled then.” Severus said lowering his guard and uncrossing his arms.

“Here, my boy, let me help you,” Albus said and waved his wand levitating Harry out of the bed steadily. Severus stood closely next to Harry.

“I shall send medical supplies to you every morning, alright Severus?” Poppy informed him, “Make sure to keep his wound clean or else.” She warned. Severus looked over his shoulder pursing his lips and nodded. She knew he wasn’t an idiot; she was just protective. She smiled at Albus who winked back at her before turning around.
Poppy sat back down in the chair and smiled optimistically as she watched her boys leave the infirmary.

As soon as Harry was placed in the bed of Severus’s spare room, he regretted allowing Albus in, “I hadn’t expected you to prepare a room for Harry so quickly.” His voice had been full of joy. Severus had ignored him.

He turned after tucking Harry into his bed and paused scowling at the wall above the desk, “Really, Albus?”

A large banner had appeared on the wall above the desk, bright red and adorning the Gryffindor logo.

“Oh, don’t be so mean-spirited Severus, it is merely decoration,” Albus waved his hand dismissively, “Most teenagers these days have décor. Posters and all sorts. I am merely making it more homely for Harry.”

Severus scoffed and shook his head, “Fine. I shall allow it but only for Harry’s sake.” He muttered glaring at the offensive banner.

Albus brightened at that, “Wonderful!” He said cheerfully, “I shall leave you now as you no doubt have potions to make and whatnot.”

“Mm.” Severus hummed in response; he had actually forgotten all about the potion he left with Dobby, but he wasn’t about to admit that. It wasn’t like him at all to forget about a potion, but he supposed the reordering of priorities came with having a charge.

Albus walked to the fireplace in the living room and grabbed a handful of powder, “Take care, Severus.” He nodded with great seriousness. Severus nodded back.

At times he really wanted to strangle the man, and at other times he felt like he wanted to hug him.

That was an odd thought, the idea of hugging someone. He couldn’t even remember the last time he hugged someone. He didn’t linger on it though.

He cast a spell over Harry, one to alert him should any changes arise and left the child’s bedroom entering his potions laboratory next door.

“Professor Snape sir! You’ve returned!” Dobby’s voice was full of wonder as though the elf expected him to never come back. Severus swallowed as it made him think of Harry’s episode after thinking the same thing. The episode which now resulted in the child lying unresponsive in bed, “Dobby made sure Professor Snape’s potion was carefully watched.”

Severus nodded pulling himself out of his thoughts and walked to the cauldron, “Thank you Dobby. You’ve done an excellent job. You may go now.” He said as he prepared vials for the potion. As Dobby left, a small smile graced Severus’s face at the realisation that the elf hadn’t even reacted to being thanked. No doubt Harry’s good manners had forced Dobby to become accustomed to gratitude by now.

After bottling several vials, he stored them all but one in a small cupboard in the room protected by a stasis and locking charm. Although he was the only one who frequented his quarters until now, he could never be too sure with the odd goings-on throughout the castle, particularly with mischievous children gaining access to places they shouldn’t.

Walking back to the spare bedroom, he paused and stood staring at the door.

This wasn’t just a spare bedroom.

This was now Harry’s bedroom.

And if the boy agreed to the arrangement when he woke up, it would remain Harry’s bedroom forever. Severus did not allow the word replacement of ‘when’ to ‘if’ to enter his mind.

Instead, he shook his head in disbelief at the absurdity of everything that had happened recently as he entered Harry’s room.

Severus transfigured an armchair next to Harry’s bed and sat down in it, spelling the liquid from the vial he held into the boy’s stomach. The several spells Poppy had placed upon him ensured he would remain well enough without food or water for now, but if the situation worsened, Harry could potentially have to be admitted to St Mungo’s for specific care at levels higher than he or Poppy could provide.

Severus had already vowed to himself, and to Harry, that he would be there every step of the way.

He reached out and held Harry’s limp hand, and with the other, he hovered a book from the bookshelf over to him and suspended it midair. He presumed it would not do well to just sit and stare at the boy. He was also afraid of where his mind would take him if he did so.

So, clearing his throat, he began to read aloud,
“Chapter One, The Wizard and the Hopping Pot…”

Chapter Text

For the first night in several, Severus slept peacefully. Unfortunately for him, his neck suffered for it as he fell asleep in the chair after reading to Harry.

He woke up confused and panicking due to his surroundings and instantly reached for his wand before remembering where he was and why. On the table beside Harry sat a new roll of bandage material. He cringed a little, unsure of how exactly Poppy had put it there. Hopefully she hadn’t delivered it in person.

Severus sighed and rubbed his face with his hand before getting up and getting ready for whatever the day held. No doubt it would be an eventful one with Harry Potter in his care.

Severus had never thought himself adequate at Divination, but he had to second guess himself because as soon as he sat back down next to Harry after showering and getting dressed, he heard the familiar sound of someone breaching his fireplace via Floo. They were coming through without his permission. The only person allowed to do so was Albus. Unfortunately for him, Albus was not alone. Instead, he was being led through by an enraged woman.

“I swear to all things above Albus, I do not care for Severus’s preferences of requesting permission to see him, I must see Harry at once!”

Severus groaned and rubbed his face. Minerva McGonagall was back, and clearly on the warpath. He rose from the armchair and opened the door to Harry’s room. The phrase was still foreign to him, but not unwelcome.

Minerva was stood, lips pursed, wand out and she swivelled to face Severus and threw a hex at him. Severus blocked it as he easily brandished his wand and raised his eyebrow daring her to do her worst. Though he would never fight her back.

“Now, now, Minerva, Severus! Please!” Albus cried out and stood between the pair, his brow uncharacteristically furrowed. She lowered her wand and scowled between the two men.

“When were you going to tell me about Harry?” She snapped and approached Severus who folded his arms and moved to block the doorway of Harry’s room.

Not even a beat passed when Severus opened his mouth, “When you were not in the presence of family you may never see again.” He snapped, causing the three of them to still at the implication, though they all knew it was true.

In a year’s time, they had no idea what was going to happen. The Dark Lord had already caused one death since his return, and that was of an innocent child who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But the Dark Lord was ruthless and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

Severus knew most tasks required to do harm would be up to Death Eaters to perform. The Dark Lord had returned far more than Severus wanted to admit, but he was weak. He was a mere shell and had nowhere near the power he used to.

Severus’s true Death Eater years were long gone, and he was endlessly grateful for his role as a spy to aid Albus and Harry. But to play the role of a spy meant he had to act as a Death Eater, and if that meant killing someone…

He didn’t know if he could still do it.

He felt a bout of nausea form in his stomach as his gaze shifted from Minerva to Albus and back, and he thought of the boy in the bed behind him.

He couldn’t be enough for Voldemort. He didn’t want to be enough for him.

But he did know who he could be enough for.
He could be enough for Albus, enough for Poppy, enough for Minerva, enough for Hogwarts, and most importantly, enough for Harry.

“Can I see him?” Minerva asked quietly. Severus said nothing but unfolded his arms and retreated into Harry’s room. He picked up the bandage roll on the bedside table and stood muttering spells to remove the old dressing and replace it. He heard Minerva’s sharp inhale at the wound.

“I assume Albus has filled you in on everything.” He tucked Harry’s freshly bandaged arm back under the bedsheets away from her wide eyes.

Minerva sighed, “Yes,” Her voice sounded grave, “I just wish you had told me so I could be here for him, he is one of my lions after all.”

Severus knew how deeply protective she was of her lions, and that was partly why he did not tell her. He knew she would have returned as soon as possible, no matter who the child was, or how old.

“I know,” Severus replied, “I apologise.” Minerva’s head whipped from looking at Harry to look at him.

The woman stared at him in such a pleased surprise that he had to look away in embarrassment. He was not a verbally apologetic man and often preferred actions to words in getting across his apologies. He realised it may possibly be the first time he had apologised to Minerva, and definitely the first time he had had to as an adult.

“Minnie, do you have any ideas on the process of waking him up?” Albus asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh, I’m just as clueless as everyone else,” She said waving her hand in dismissal, “I would have already contacted St Mungo’s by now, though.” She stated pursing her lips and looking at the two men, clearly judging their dealings of events.

Albus cleared his throat, “I… I suppose I could ask Poppy to contact them.”

Minerva nodded curtly and made a noise of approval. Albus left the room shooting a sheepish glance at Severus at being told off by her. The man had stared back at him, his eyes tired but full of determination.  

Victor Goldhorn was a relatively young psychiatrist, or, well, as young as they came at St. Mungo’s. Most of his colleagues were in their forties or fifties. They had children and were married. Victor was thirty when he had been appointed the role of a Wizarding Young Peoples Psychiatrist at St. Mungo’s. It was a huge feat for any witch or wizard to get a medical job at such a place, as they only hired the best of the best.

During his first few sessions, his elder colleagues watched him like a hawk, making notes and just observing his interactions with his patients. He had found it rather amusing the way he could hear their quills scribbling away every time he spoke, and a few years later one of his colleagues revealed that some of his peers had actually taken notes on how to provide treatment as well as he did.

Victor had a 100% success rate in treating a patient’s mental health, and he took great pride in it.

It was a typical workday when he caught wind of an important visitor at the hospital – Poppy Pomfrey from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That immediately piqued his interest, and he had searched the ward until he found her in an office. He stood outside and cast a spell to eavesdrop. Unfortunately, although he excelled at in psychiatry, he often failed in spellcasting, so he could only hear parts of the conversation Poppy was having with a senior staff member of the hospital.

“Harry Potter… Harmed… Administered Wiggenweld… Professor Severus Snape… Won’t wake up…”

Now Victor was incredibly interested.

He cancelled his spell and cleared his throat as he knocked on the door and waited until he heard the door unlock before he entered.

“Ah, this is just the man I was discussing, Poppy. This is Doctor Victor Goldhorn.” The senior staff member, his boss, a large woman named Doctor Jennie Appleby spoke, smiling kindly at him. Victor smiled back and extended his hand out to Poppy who shook it and introduced herself, though she needn’t have. Poppy was known by almost everyone in the hospital for her profound healing skills and willingness to care for a whole school of children. Not many could do that effectively and singlehandedly, but Poppy never seemed to struggle, as far as she told people anyway.

“It’s a pleasure, Poppy,” Victor smiled, “I heard you were visiting, is there anything I can do to help?” He asked raising his eyebrows.

Jennie nodded, “Yes, there is. But it is a discreet matter that must not be shared with anyone,” She spoke warningly, he nodded trying to hide his eagerness, “Harry Potter is in a magical coma after harming himself,” She spoke very matter-of-factly in a calm tone, “He cannot wake up because his magic is preventing him.”

Victor frowned thinking back to his years and years of studying for his current job position, “So his lack of wanting to wake up is stopping him,” He said. Poppy nodded, “It sounds to me like he is mentally wanting to die without the actual dying part.”

Poppy sighed, “Yes, I’m afraid so. It’s so awful.” Victor and Jennie looked at her, it was very clear she was emotional, whereas he and Jennie were not. Working in a hospital had hardened them significantly.

“Right. Where is the patient now?” Victor asked folding his arms.

“He is in Professor Severus Snape’s quarters.” Poppy informed him. Victor raised his eyebrow at that.

“Why is a child in a Professor’s personal quarters?” He asked immediately assuming the worst.

Poppy’s eyes widened as she realised the implication of her words and how terrible they sounded to an outsider, “Oh it’s nothing like that. Professor Snape is potentially going to adopt the boy.”

That did little to ease Victor’s worries, but he nodded anyway not wishing to cause any problems. He wanted this case. He wanted to fix Harry Potter and be a saviour too. He uncrossed his arms in an attempt to appear relieved, “I see. I should like to go assess him right now if that is alright?” He asked Poppy who stood up her eyes full of hope.

“Oh yes of course. We shall Floo directly to Severus’s quarters.”

Victor didn’t trust Severus one bit, and he knew the feeling was mutual.

As Victor walked around the unconscious boy, he felt a pair of eyes boring through him like daggers. He had instructed the room to be clear of people so he could focus, but one person had outright refused to leave: Severus Snape.

The brooding man stood in the doorway glaring at him across the room, watching as Victor lifted Harry’s limbs and tapped them gently, inspecting him thoroughly. Out of the corner of his eyes, he swore he saw the man conceal his wand just up his sleeve. He had almost laughed. As if he would do anything untoward while being watched. He would be turned into mush before he could even blink.

Once he finished his inspection and cast a few ineffective spells on the boy just for show in front of Severus, he called for the others to return to the room to give them the good news. He did know how to fix Harry, and he knew exactly how, too.

“I am pleased to inform you that I will be able to help wake him,” He said and watched as a range of emotions broke out in everyone apart from Severus who remained tight-lipped and staring at him, “However to do so I will require several hours and privacy. I must also warn you this is a big procedure, and it comes with risks.”

“What risks?” Severus snapped immediately.

“A flu-like illness when he wakes, short-term weakness, short-term exhaustion, short-term loss of senses, loss of life,” Victor watched the group pale at that, “However death is extremely unlikely.” He reassured them and the colour returned to them all apart from Severus.

Albus clasped his hands together, “How soon can you work?”

Victor then smiled too, “Right away. However, there is legal documentation to be filled out since he is underage.”

Albus waved his hand dismissively, “I am his magical guardian, I shall fill the documents while you work.”

“Wonderful!” Minerva said, “Well, come, let’s leave the man to work. Oh, Severus stop glaring. We shall remain right here in your quarters. I shall transfigure some more seating, come on.”

“Wait. May I have a moment with him?” Severus spoke entering Harry’s room not even waiting for Victor’s response. Victor scowled as Severus cast a spell on the door to shut it behind him, blocking any prying eyes.

“Harry…”

“Harry, I don’t know if you can hear me, but a doctor is here to help you wake up. Please be careful in your mind Harry.”

“Please come back to us Harry, we need you. Fight it. Fight your mind and wake up.”

Chapter Text

In the beginning, being in his mind was scary. He didn’t know where he was, or who he was. All he had was the constant feeling that he wasn’t meant to be here. It was wrong. He needed to get out.

He had heard a voice in the beginning. It came not long after he had regained some sort of consciousness inside his mind, the voice reminded him who he was. He was Harry Potter.

He couldn’t make out exactly what the voice was saying to him apart from his name, but it didn’t matter anyway as it soon stopped.

The second time he heard a voice, it sounded clearer. He half expected to turn and see someone standing next to him. But he couldn’t turn, he couldn’t look at anything. He was inside his mind, and inside his mind he had no form, nothing.

Inside his mind, he wasn’t Harry Potter, he was nobody.

The voice told him nice words; that he was a kind and clever boy. This voice was different from the first. This voice sounded more aged.

Before the voice stopped, it had gotten closer and told him he was special.

But Harry Potter wasn’t special. Harry Potter was nothing.

The third voice he heard was not like the other two. It was soft and gentle. He felt an odd tingling sensation when this voice spoke. It was as though he could feel the voice. But how could one feel anything inside their mind?

Harry didn’t know the answer to that. But what he did know was that this voice spoke to him tirelessly and rarely ceased.

Harry liked this voice. It didn’t tell him he was special, it told him he was a silly little boy. But not in a nasty way like how Uncle Vernon would have said it. This was different.

This voice spoke to him affectionately. Why would anyone want to speak to him affectionately?

Some days the third voice was quieter and didn’t speak as much, and other days it wouldn’t stop. He was spoken to about the effects of various potions and their different ingredients.

Harry listened to it all intently, obviously, he had no other option, but he liked to think he would have listened anyway.

Eventually, this voice grew tired, and Harry wished he could open his eyes just to tell the voice to stop. That it was okay, that he was okay. But the tired voice carried on.

It told him stories of hopping pots, of magical beings, of brave people travelling to strange lands and defeating a great evil. Harry liked being told stories the most.

The fourth voice that Harry heard was the last. This voice was sharp, and Harry didn’t like it. It muttered to him about his excessive power, and that it was making him sick. The voice said it was going to fix him, that it was going to wake him up by strange means Harry had never heard of.

The third voice returned to him. It told him he was a fighter, that he needed to fight.
Harry knew this wasn’t a lie; he was a fighter. He’d fought all his life. He was tired of fighting. He was tired of everything. He wanted to give up.
But the voice told him that it needed him.

And Harry allowed himself, just for a moment, to believe it.

Victor stood next to Harry’s bed, holding his wand tightly, almost shaking with glee at the prospect of what he was about to do.

It was unethical, it was terrible, it was even illegal. But who would know? Who would believe a child over a licensed psychiatrist such as himself? Nobody in their right mind, that’s who.

“Revelio.”

Victor pointed his wand at Harry’s chest, focusing his magic as much as he could. It worked. He felt fatigued after, but that wouldn’t last long.

In the centre of Harry’s chest was a pulsating green light. A ball of energy that Victor couldn’t help but feel honoured to see with his own eyes. Before him was Harry Potter’s magical core. It was so strong and so bright; Victor had never seen anything so mesmerising.

“Revelio.”

He cast again, this time pointing towards himself. He looked down. An orange light emitted from the centre of his chest. It was far weaker than Harry’s and didn’t pulsate. But soon it would.

He didn’t need much, just a little...

Lessening the power of Harry would no doubt wake him. His magic would focus on protecting him and repairing itself rather than keeping him unconscious.

Part of him felt bad for doing this to the saviour of the wizarding world. But what did anyone need this much power for? It was selfish, and he was angry that a child should have more power than he did. He scowled, no longer feeling so bad.

The casting of Revelio tired him, but the stealing of magic would revitalise him. It was perfect.

He only hoped that Severus Snape didn’t come in while he was doing the ritual. That would be no fun.

And luckily for him, the man didn’t.

Harry knew something was wrong. He was feeling things.
Was he waking up? Had he escaped or was death coming for him?

He could feel a tugging sensation and it shook through him. Something was definitely wrong.

The tugging soon turned to tearing, and the darkness surrounding him turned white.

It was blinding, and it burned terribly.

He wanted to close his eyes, to turn away, but he couldn’t. He realised he was no longer moving forward either, he was still.

But he couldn’t move no matter how hard he tried. The tearing sensation was searingly hot now, and he felt as though he were getting lighter and lighter and lighter.

“Fight it. Fight your mind.” Harry remembered the voice telling him. He was a fighter. He needed to fight.
If not for himself, then for the voice that told him he was needed.

He tried again to move, and he could. He began rushing forward through his mind. He needed to escape; he didn’t know how, but at least moving forward, whichever way forward was, felt like the right thing to do.

Running helped him avoid bad things. He had learnt that many years ago. But as he ran, the pain got worse. It felt like a thousand electric bolts shooting through his entirety.

The pain didn’t stop, but he kept running until eventually out of the corner of his eye, he saw something flickering.

The flickering presence suddenly filled his entire vision with a kaleidoscope of colour, before settling and revealing a giant deep green orb.

He felt an overwhelming urge to protect it.

The orb seemed to have a thousand tendrils of energy within it that emitted a pulsating green light, and he realised then that he could no longer run forward. He stared at the orb and watched as a few tendrils appeared to die out and disappear to nothingness before returning a bright orange colour.

Whatever was happening, it didn’t seem good.

Harry began to focus everything inside him towards this green orb and watched as it shone brighter and brighter, filling his vision not with deep green, but with the same shade of bright green that haunted the dreams of his parents.

He could hear screaming as he focused his energy to protect the orb. The screaming grew louder and louder. It was deafeningly loud then ceased momentarily.

Suddenly he was thrown backwards by an unseen force, away from the orb. The screaming started again as he tried to fight the force, but he was pulled further and further away until he felt a heavy jolt and he took in a deep breath.

A gasp filled his ears, and air filled his lungs.