"And he was all alone, and no one wanted him."

"Sir?” Harry asked nervously. Snape made a hmm-ing noise to show that he was listening. He didn’t look up from the potion he was stirring, and Harry was grateful for that. He found it easier to talk to the man when he didn’t have to look him in the eye. Snape seemed to share this view, and most of their conversations were conducted by looking at the wall over the other’s shoulder.

“Sir,” Harry said again, “are my parents buried?”

Snape’s hand stopped stirring abruptly. His whole body seemed to freeze, and Harry felt somewhat alarmed.

“Sir?” he asked.

Severus took several deep breaths, to calm himself. The boy’s innocent question, coupled with, Severus knows without looking, big, curious Lily-eyes, had taken him off-guard, and he knew that his normal reaction to something that surprises him – to snap – will not do in the situation.He took another breath.

“Why –” He cut himself off before he could snap: “why do you ask?” Of course the boy would want to know what had happened to his parents’ bodies. And Severus doubted Harry had had anyone before he felt comfortable asking. Though why the child – brat, he reminded himself fiercely – had to choose him of all people to latch onto is anybody’s guess.

He’d been almost enjoying the quiet evenings that Harry spent down in his office (and he found that if he thought of the boy as Harry rather than Potter, it was easier to see the boy, rather than the blighted father. The fact that it also means he didn’t have to see Lily as much either was an added bonus. He couldn’t take that daily knife in the heart).But he had been finding Harry’s quiet presence while he brewed or marked essays rather soothing. And now he had to deal with questions like this.

“Your parents…” he managed, but had to stop because of the lump growing in his throat. Harry was still watching him closely, as though worried for him after his moment of freeze-frame.As though worried for him.

It was at that point that the realisation hit him, and he wondered how it had taken him so long to reach such an obvious conclusion.

Maybe because it was only obvious to an unbiased observer, not a participant who felt the way Severus did about that boy’s father.

But the realisation did hit him, and when it did, it did so like a freight train.

He had become attached to Harry Potter.

He had become attached to Harry Bloody Potter.

He should have expected it, really. By allowing the boy into his life more than was absolutely necessary, he had appreciated and resigned himself to the fact that the child – abused, lonely, and lacking in adult role models as he was – would no doubt develop some form of emotional attachment to the man who spoke to Dumbledore on his behalf and demanded that Harry be returned to Grimmauld Place with his dogfather for the summer, and every summer after that. But Severus had never stopped to think that he himself might become fond of the brat.

Because he had, he realised with an inaudible groan. He would always have protected this boy for Lily’s sake, but now he wished to protect him for both Harry’s sake, and his own. He didn’t want Harry to die, because he, Severus Snape, Greasy Bat, terror of Hufflepuffs and scourge of Gryffindors, would miss the boy if he were dead.And wasn’t that just a kick in the teeth.

Harry was still staring at him with impossibly wide, concerned eyes, and Severus felt the uncontrollable urge to comfort the boy.

“I was friends with your mother, Harry,” he said abruptly. If possible, Harry’s eyes went even wider, though now the concern had been replaced with a tentative hope.

“Your parents,” Severus continued abruptly, “are buried in Godric’s Hollow. If you wish,” he paused, because Harry’s eyes were glowing at him, “I shall take you to see them one day.”

He had to turn away at the expression on the boy’s face – like a man who had just crawled the Sahara and then been offered water by his own personal guardian angel. Severus did not deserve such gratitude.

Yes. A lot more complicated.

“A single bulb that flickers but somehow never goes out.”