At first glance, the sleeping child on the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive was perfect. The innocence that radiated from his little body could sensed from a mile away. His crop of fine black hair was wild, as though it was destined to never lay flat. And, though the child was asleep, he seemed destined to have his mother's eyes. Severus Snape didn't know how he knew it, he just knew it.

This Halloween had been the most terrible the Potion's Master had ever endured. He never particularly looked forward to the holiday, believing the students he taught had enough lacked enough self control already. This year would be the first of many years of mourning, Severus decided. Never again would he be present at the Halloween feast, for what would he have to celebrate? The only woman he had ever loved had left him, forever this time.

A sharp pain ripped through Severus's torso.

This was too much. Why was he here, watching over the infant child of the woman he loved and the man he hated? Looking at the child again, Severus somehow knew the child would be a near exact replica of his arrogant father, in face and in character. Petunia may have hated her sister for the magic she would never have, but that wouldn't stop her from spoiling her little celebrity nephew.

Severus snorted at the thought.

But, taking another look at the child, Severus thought of what little traits of Lily her son simply had to posses. The little boy was bound to be intelligent, that much was certain. There was no way Merlin would allow the son of Lily Evans (Severus refused to think of Lily as a Potter) to be as dimwitted as his father, no matter how much he looked like him. And, as spoiled as the child was sure to be, he was bound to have some trace of a conscience, wasn't he?

Sighing, Severus gave up. No matter what bits of his mother the boy had in him, he would always be James Potter's son. When the boy was old enough to attend Hogwarts, Severus would be forced to look at his worst enemy's face every day for another seven years. It would take all of the Potions Master's self control not to destroy the child the moment he set foot in the castle.

Fury suddenly ripped through Severus's chest as he pulled out his wand.

How dare this disgusting little insect survive the most dangerous curse of all time while Lily, his beautiful, brilliant, flawless mother, was reduced to a lifeless corpse? It was unfair. It was maddening. Self control suddenly became nearly impossible. Who would notice if the little boy died right here, right now? His relatives certainly wouldn't mind; one less disappointment. The rest of the Wizarding world had no idea where the child was. His death would seem inevitable. The mourning would end eventually. It would be so easy to kill the child now...

Sighing again, Severus stuffed his wand back inside his cloak. Dumbledore would have his hide should he discover the boy had died. Not to mention, McGonagall would simply have to destroy him for killing a future Gryffindor. No, killing the child now would be a very unwise move.

But, even as the urge to destroy the last living Potter edged out of his being, Severus couldn't help but hate the child. Severus didn't have a very good reason for his hatred, other than the fact he existed.

Severus snorted at the irony.

Suddenly, a new problem presented itself. What was the Potions Master to do now? He couldn't simply leave the child, not at this time of night. Nor did he think he could trust himself to spend the night by the child's side without killing him. Settling on a compromise with himself, Severus changed into his rarely used Animagus form (a bat, of all creatures) and landed on the light post beside the door.

Even from his perch, Severus thought ruefully, the child still looked perfect. The Potions Master knew better now. He saw the boy for what he was; the soon-to-be arrogant son of James Potter. But he was also the son of Lily Evans, the most loving person Severus had ever had the pleasure of knowing. So there, on the light of a Muggle house in Surrey, the Potions Master made a promise to watch over the child, to make sure no harm came his way whilst in the Wizarding world. There was little protection he could offer in Surrey.

For the rest of the night, Severus kept watch over the infant child, making sure nothing happed to him. His original fears had been misplaced, however. The boy was not once disturbed from his sleep. Had Severus been in his human form, he would have snorted. But he did not move from his perch until the early hours of the morning. Assuming the boy would be found quickly, Severus didn't bother worrying anymore.

What Severus didn't see – or rather hear – was Petunia's rather loud discovery of her nephew on the doorstep. What Severus didn't know was that the child he had watched over was to spend ten years in the miserable care of his reluctant relatives. Severus knew nothing of the cupboard, or the forgotten birthdays, or the sad, presentless Christmases. Unbeknownst to Severus, the arrogant little boy he had pondered over that sad, Halloween night was actually a very sensitive child.

No, Severus Snape knew nothing of the homelife of the child he had decided to hate. Severus Snape knew nothing about Harry James Potter. But his middle and last names were all Severus cared about.