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Severus slunk under a neatly manicured privet hedge, one of many perfectly-shaped hedges on the aptly-named Privet Drive. He didn’t use his animagus form often - there was nothing scary about being a small housecat, and Minerva would never leave him alone if she knew he had such a “cute” alter ego - but it often came in handy for spying because his soot-black fur blended well into the shadows.
At first, he thought he had the wrong house. Harry Potter should have been nearly six years old, but the child in the back garden of number 4 looked barely out of toddlerhood. He was clearly too young to be out alone, in any event. It was mid-April and even with the sun fully overhead, it should have been too chilly to be out playing with the hose.
No, not playing - gardening. Severus watched in astonishment as the boy dragged the hose to each flowerbed and carefully gave each plant the appropriate amount of water. At one point he paused and, with an anxious look toward the house, bent forward to get himself a drink. Leaning over caused his trousers to slide down his little legs, so he had to put the hose down and pull them back up with a grimace. The waistband was easily three inches wider than he needed it to be, Severus noted. His shirt was over-large, also, gray and full of holes and occasionally slipping down over one shoulder. He had no shoes.
Merlin’s tits. Severus had hoped this trip would be for naught - had hoped his suspicions had been wrong - but apparently Petunia really was every bit the shrew she had been in her teen years. If Severus hadn’t asked Albus the previous evening about Potter’s current well-being, Albus wouldn’t have mentioned Potter living with his aunt and uncle. And Severus wouldn’t have suddenly developed a pressing need to visit in person, seeing as James Potter was an only child and Lily’s only sister was the odious Petunia and that spelled trouble. Not that Severus had told Albus of his intentions, of course. Petunia was a muggle and therefore in the phone directory. Severus had planned to stop by in his cat form, spy on the house for a while, and go away reassured all was well.
All was emphatically not well. If this was Potter - and there was no one else it could be; Severus had thoroughly researched the Dursleys before visiting and their own son was supposed to be a few months older than Potter and built like a whale - this was very bad indeed. Because this child, the one now diligently pruning a rosebush with nothing more than bare hands and a pair of shears much too dangerous for a small child to handle, was clearly not okay.
There were doubtless a wide variety of wards and tracking spells on the property itself, leading directly back to Albus, which meant Severus had to be clever. He emerged from the hedge, meowed loudly, then made sure to catch Potter’s eye before sauntering along the lot line and into the lee of the gardening shed that marked the back corner of the garden.
He’d expected little Harry to squeal and run after him. To give chase like any other six-year-old would, at the very least. Instead, Severus was stunned a few moments later to see Harry turn the corner lugging the garden hose. He was clearly having trouble with it, seeing as it was dribbling steadily and therefore heavy with water, but Harry determinedly propped the nozzle up on a small rock and backed away to sit quietly on his haunches. He and Severus stared at each other for a solid minute before Severus decided he had to be the one to make the first move. He carefully stepped forward and drank a bit of water from the hose stream.
“You’re a pretty cat,” Harry said in an almost-whisper. “Pretty kitty.”
Severus twitched his tail, ready to bolt if the child tried to grab and manhandle him, but Harry seemed content to watch in silence. They stared at each other for a moment longer, then Severus abandoned the water and stalked forward to forcibly butt his head under Harry’s hand.
“Oh!” Harry gasped. “You’re soft. Dogs are mean, but I think I like cats.”
Severus meowed, then took a few steps back and meowed again. And finally, after what felt like an eternity, Harry consented to follow him. His movements were slow, uneven, and Severus couldn’t wait to see why. Harry wasn’t like any six–year-old he’d ever encountered before, and definitely not the posh spoiled brat Albus had led him to believe.
Fifteen or so yards away from where the wards should have been, Severus spotted a neighbor’s shed - this one with the door open. No one in the garden or anywhere within view, thanks to the ubiquitous privet hedges. He made for the open door, turning and meowing at Harry every few steps.
“Do you live here, kitty?” Harry asked, stepping inside. “It’s bigger than my cupboard. I like it.”
His cupboard. Merlin.
Severus got between Harry and the door, then smoothly shifted back to his human form. Little Harry’s eyes went wide with terror but he made not a sound.
“I mean you no harm,” Severus said in as calm a tone as he could manage despite the anger at Harry’s so-called family simmering in his gut. “My name is Severus Snape, and I am a wizard. I came to help you.”
Harry ducked his head low and didn’t meet Severus’s eyes. “I’m Freak,” he murmured.
Oh no. FUCK no. “Surely that’s not your name?”
The gentle question startled Harry into looking up, but he quickly backed away and crouched between two dusty boxes. “‘S what they call me,” he muttered. “Freak or ‘that boy.’ Freaks don’t get to have names.”
“You already have a perfectly good name,” Severus told him. He took a seat cross-legged on the cement floor, still close enough to the door to keep Harry from running out in a panic but giving the frightened boy as much space as possible. “Your name is Harry Potter. Your father’s name was James and your mother’s name was Lily. I went to school with them when we were younger - your mother was my best friend. Lily was a witch and James was a wizard, so I’m sure you’re a wizard like us as well.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “Wizard, like magic?”
“Yes, like magic.”
“But Aunt P’tunia says magic is bad. Uncle Vernon says magic doesn’t exist.”
“I can turn into a cat,” Severus pointed out. “That certainly seems like a magical thing to do, isn’t it?”
Harry nodded.
“And I bet you’ve had some things happen already that you can’t explain. You escaped from somewhere you didn’t want to be, or there was something you wanted very badly that suddenly came true. That’s called accidental magic, and it’s what happens to children who will grow up to be witches and wizards. Your aunt and uncle might say magic is bad, but that’s because they don’t have any and they’re jealous. They also insult you by calling you ‘Freak’ instead of Harry. And I don’t think they take care of you very well, do they?”
“Aunt P’tunia says I am very lucky they keep a roof over my head and give me food. I need to be very good and behave so I can earn my supper.” He sounded like he was reciting a screed he’d heard many times over.
Severus forced himself not to react. “I wanted to talk to you here,” he explained, “because I expect there’s some very strong magic on your house and garden as well. Protections to keep any magical people from finding you. I think it was originally supposed to help keep you safe, but I get the sense your aunt and uncle don’t like you very much. And that’s definitely not your fault.”
Harry slowly shook his head no. “Nobody likes freaks,” he said quietly.
“I don’t think you’re a freak, Harry, and I like you just fine even if you are. I noticed you were limping, though - does your leg hurt?”
Harry looked baffled for a moment, but then shrugged. “Dunno.”
“Would you like to see some diagnostic magic? I’d like to see if I can heal you and make it feel better.”
“I… guess that would be okay.”
Moving slowly, Severus withdrew his wand and cast the appropriate spell. Harry stared in amazement as a golden glow enveloped his feet, then legs, then torso, moving on up to the top of his head. At the same time, Severus’s wand spit out a dishearteningly long list of current and past injuries. Several of the older injuries indicated they’d never healed properly, but of more concern was the fact that Harry was currently walking on a flat-out dislocated knee. And apparently didn’t know whether it hurt or not.
Harry eyed the list warily. “Is it bad?” he finally asked.
Severus sighed. “It tells me your family wasn’t taking care of you as well as they should have been,” he explained. “It says your knee bone isn’t in the right place, and that’s why walking hurts for you right now. It also says you don’t eat enough and that in the past, when you’ve been sick or hurt, they didn’t take you to a doctor. Your own magic has healed you some but not all the way.”
“Doctors cost money,” Harry mumbled, once again looking at the floor. “Freaks don’t – I don’t deserve to have them spend money on me. And I eat as much as I can, but there’s always too many chores for me to do in a day so I never can finish them all. They’d give me more food if I earned it more.”
“You shouldn’t have to earn food to eat, Harry,” Severus said gently. “You should get food and doctor visits and love just because you’re a child and your adults are supposed to take care of you. Here, I can help fix your knee, to start.” He moved slowly, telegraphing his intentions, but Harry sat perfectly still as Severus tapped his knee with his wand and said the spell to slide the patella back into place. A second spell removed the inflammation and soreness, and a third ensured all the blood vessels were functioning correctly.
Harry stretched out his leg, tested it with his hand a few times, then Severus finally saw a tiny smile grace his face. “It’s straight now! Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Severus wished he could do the rest of the boy’s body, but that would be better suited to a time Harry was deeply asleep. Soon, hopefully. “Do you go to school?” he added.
“Freaks don’t need school, either.”
“Does your cousin go to school?”
Harry blinked at him. “You know about Dudley?”
“Does Dudley get called a freak too?”
“Oh, no.” Harry shook his head. “Dudders is special. He gets lots of food because he’s a growing boy, and he goes to school now too. I don’t know if he learns much,” he added doubtfully, “but sometimes Aunt P’tunia does his homework for him in the living room and I can hear them talking from my cupboard so I’m learning my letters and numbers. At least what order they go in.”
There’s the cupboard again. “Is your cupboard where your bed is?”
“Yeah, so I don’t contaminate the rest of them.”
I’m going to kill the bastards myself. Severus knew better than to let his anger show in front of such a fragile six-year-old, but the Dursleys - and Albus - had a lot of things to answer for.
Still, right now he had a choice to make. Fix Harry up a bit more and send him back to live with those monsters until Severus could come up with a more solid plan? Or take him now, before anyone noticed he was missing, and figure it out while they were on the run? The former would be the wiser solution, but Severus was loath to abandon Harry. Especially now that Harry had opened up to him, even a little bit.
“Harry,” Severus said carefully, “would you like to come live with me and learn magic? I promise you’ll always have lots of healthy food to eat, and a real bedroom with a real bed to sleep on, and clothes of your own that you can choose yourself. You won’t have to earn your food doing chores or anything else except promising to learn as much as you can so you do well in school. I will never hit you or otherwise hurt you, and I will make sure you always get medical care when you need it. Would that be okay?”
He could literally see the suspicion and concern on Harry’s face, but he could also see the moment when freedom won the boy’s internal battle. “I won’t be in trouble?” Harry asked in a small voice.
Only with a meddlesome old wizard who believes in prophecies too much for his own good. “We’ll go where no one can find us,” Severus promised. “My house here in England is very small, but I’ve wanted to retire from teaching for a long time. I have enough money hidden away to take the two of us to a different country - a different continent, even.”
“You’re a teacher? Like Dudley’s?”
“I’m a magical teacher,” Severus corrected him. “I’ve taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for a decade, but I don’t want to work there anymore. I can teach somewhere else instead, or I can make potions - magical medicine - and just teach you when you want me to. Would you like that?”
“I… I think I would,” Harry admitted. “If you’re very sure?”
“I’m sure. Would you like a hug?”
Harry gasped. “I’ve never had one before,” he whispered. “You don’t think I’m a freak?”
Severus opened his arms. Harry came to him - slowly, hesitantly, but he came - and allowed Severus to wrap him in a loose embrace. Severus pressed a gentle kiss to Harry’s forehead scar, just for good measure. “I’ve never had a child of my own,” Severus confessed. “I don’t - I’m not going to fall in love with someone else, ever. I’m not interested in getting married or building that kind of life with another adult. But I would like you to be my child from now on, and I’ll love you the way a father should. We can both pick a new last name together, and we can’t be in trouble because nobody will know where we’ve gone. Canada, maybe - somewhere with real winters and lots of trees and not too many people, so we can live in a nice house in a small town and you can go to school with your peers and learn both academics and magic. And I’ll be your dad and you can be my son and together we can be happy. What do you say?”
Harry beamed up at him. They were both crying, but that didn’t matter. “If you mean it,” Harry said, “if you really mean it… I say ‘yes, Dad.’”