Work Text:
“Professor?” The young boy asked as he poked the fire with his overly large stick.
“Hmm?”
“How many stars do you think are in the sky?”
Those green eyes caught his; suddenly, he was transported back with that young red-haired witch he once knew. Acid burned his throat as he recalled her knocking on his bedroom window after a nasty altercation with his father. They managed to escape to the park, a place that had become their haven—or at least it was for Severus. He remembered her smile, which beamed at him as they lay under a tree.
He blinked, and the scene changed as guilt invaded him. The spark in Lily’s eyes that he once loved had begun to dim. A cold shiver of remorse ran through him deep into his core as the memory of a baby crying faintly for its dead mother pierced through him. His heart clenched, and his breath became slightly labored. He turned away as a wave of memories crashed into him. He didn't deserve to think of her.
“You okay, sir?” The boy’s voice wobbled with concern. He didn’t merit his worry; he was the reason that warm-hearted witch wasn’t here. The reason this young boy was without a mother.
“Yes, I’m fine,” he said a bit more forcefully than he should have.
Potter quickly looked away, pulling his knees to his chest. And although Severus couldn’t see his face, he knew the boy had tears in his eyes.
Severus closed his own.
Perhaps this arrangement wasn’t a good idea after all. Honestly, what was Albus thinking? He was an ex-Death Eater who knew as much about raising a teenager as he did about embroidery.
First thing in the morning, he would arrange a meeting with the headmaster. Maybe he should end this excursion early.
He cringed, thinking back to a few hours ago when Potter had asked if they could watch the stars tonight. He spoke so fast that Severus had barely understood him. He was very tempted to say no even then, but in the few months Potter had been in his care, the boy had never asked for anything. Now, his first request was to sit outdoors with him?
For half a moment, he believed he had misheard and wondered if he had wanted to meet with his friends instead, but when he reiterated the request, the boy just gave a nervous smile and nodded. It was quite confusing.
So, here they were at–Severus checked his watch–8:19 pm with still more questions than answers. But for now, he had responsibilities to attend to.
“I’m not certain, but I once heard there are more stars in the sky than grains of sand on all the world’s beaches.”
Severus glanced over at the boy, who was now gazing upwards with his mouth open in quiet wonder. When Lily first told him that, he was sure he wore a similar expression, trying to imagine a sandy beach and quantitatively relating every piece to the number of stars, which was just a fraction of the number of stars. It could give anyone a headache.
"I wish we had binoculars so we could get a closer look at them." He smiled brightly, eyes still to the heavens. The last few minutes seemed to have been forgotten—another trait inherited from his mother.
"A telescope would be more useful."
Potter glanced in his direction, a somewhat nervous smile on his lips.
“Yes, sorry, Ron always says binoculars when–”
The boy grew suddenly quiet, curious. Severus watched as the boy tightened his grip on his knees, his eyes still focused upward, though now tense, like a bow ready to be plucked.
Severus wondered how that sentence was supposed to end; when looking at the sky? No, he wouldn’t be closing himself off for stating a fact. No, it seemed more personal when they went out together, Potter, Weasley, and that Granger girl, perhaps? He was probably missing his friends, it being his first summer since starting at Hogwarts, and being stuck here with the old dungeon bat wasn't exactly a vacation. But he was curious.
“Potter, why did you want to come out here?”
The boy didn't physically recoil from the question; maybe he had been expecting it. However, he didn't answer either. The silence stretched longer than what was typically socially acceptable; Severus was sure he wasn't going to become privy to the boy's thoughts and would have to make his own conclusions.
The fire was beginning to die down, leaving behind glowing embers. He would need to put some more wood on soon. Lily would say it was the perfect temperature to roast sausages or something sweet. Severus flicked his wand and dropped another log on; the fire hissed in appreciation.
Potter was now watching the fire with a blank expression. This was an interesting sight. Normally, the young Gryffindor was easy to read, but at this moment, Severus found it challenging to understand him.
“Ron once shared that one of his favorite moments with his dad was stargazing, and I wanted to experience that too.” The boy mumbled through the last of the sentence, but Severus understood, having dealt with his fair share of nervous teenagers.
Potter was looking in his direction, but seemed to be staring at something off beyond his left shoulder.
Severus had a feeling the Dursleys never did anything with him, let alone stargaze and sit by the fire. His heart broke a little for the boy. He never had much of a healthy family dynamic himself, but he did have Lily. Lily had once opened his eyes to a profound truth: pain and hatred could propel him forward, but only to a certain point. Over the years, however, he seemed to lose sight of that vital lesson, allowing bitterness to cloud his judgment and overshadow the brighter paths he could have taken. Now, here he was, decades later, with her son, who embodied a similar warm sentiment of genuinely wanting to spend time with him.
“Harry, do you see that W shape of stars over there?” Severus pointed upward and slightly to their right. Potter sat up to follow his gaze. “That constellation is called Cassiopeia…”
They sat watching the stars until the fire dimmed and the chill finally reached them.