Severus felt somewhat conflicted as he watched Harry take off. He’d been hesitant to allow the child to fly, and not least because of his recent suicide attempt. Seeing the boy fly reminded Severus of James Potter, in all his glory, zooming across the Quidditch field as if he owned the place.

But the child was not James Potter. He was Harry, a young boy, fragile yet strong, with a keen mind and wit that often took Severus by surprise.

Yes, the child looked uncannily like his late father, and he’d clearly inherited his skill on a broomstick as well. But if a bit of pleasure would help the child heal, who was he to prevent it?

His eyes were following the child carefully, wand at the ready lest the child attempt something dangerous, yet a distant noise still took him by surprise. After a moment, he realized what it was.

The child was laughing.

 Severus felt a rush of warmth in his chest upon hearing it. His actions alone had given the boy a chance to really be a child, if just for a short while. At that moment, any lingering unpleasant thoughts relating to James Potter melted away. The child was happy, and if flying gave him such joy, Severus would not hesitate to allow the child flying time whenever he wished it.

Severus watched Harry fly for another long while, a faint smile hovering upon his lips.

Eventually, the boy landed, far too forcefully, in Severus’ opinion, and he was about to say as much when he saw the child’s face. Harry was smiling; grinning, really, eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed, and his hair windswept. He handed the broomstick to Severus, with the all too rare smile lighting up his face.

“Thank you, sir. Very much,” said Harry breathlessly, brushing his tousled hair out of his eyes.

Severus quirked his lips at the child, which had Harry smiling shyly back. “I take it that you have enjoyed that, Mr. Potter?” said Severus, his gruff tone hiding his discomfort at the child’s obvious gratitude.

Harry nodded rapidly; the child-like gesture heartening Severus more than he cared to admit.

“Yes, sir. It was… incredible.”

“I am glad to hear it; you certainly took to it quite well.”

The boy looked down, uncomfortable with the praise, but still smiling, nonetheless. Severus motioned toward Harry to follow him, and he led the way inside, broomstick in hand. He noticed Harry looking on a bit wistfully as he stored the broomstick in its cupboard. He turned to face the child in preparation to rectify that.

“You will be allowed to make use of the broom again; there is no reason why you should not be.”

The boy stared, a more open expression of surprise than Severus had seen on his face before.

“R-really, sir?” he asked hesitantly.

Severus raised his eyebrows at the boy. “Certainly. I did not make that offer for my health. I rarely fly, so for all intents and purposes, that broom is yours to use.”

Harry swallowed, looking overwhelmed and somewhat wary. He opened his mouth, than closed it again, as though unsure of what to say.

He fears that I may demand something of him in return, Severus realized, feeling a surge of fury at those who had damaged the child so. He was sure not to let his feeling show as not to alarm the boy.

“It causes me no trouble to grant you use of the broom. All I expect of you is to exercise caution – in all your behaviors,” he said pointedly. He felt heartless when he saw the boy flush and look away at his statement.

It had to be said. Regardless of a short respite, the boy is still struggling greatly.

“Yes, sir,” Harry murmured.

“Good,” said Severus. “Come join me in the lab before lunch, if you would.”

Severus set the boy to brew a calming drought, keeping a sharp eye on him all the while.

I will have to speak with him later. It will upset him, surely, to discuss his past and such, but it is necessary. I simply must be sure to question him in the correct manner. I may lose him all together if I push too hard.

---

I can’t believe he did that for me, Harry thought as he mashed his beetle eyes. He knew I’d like flying, and I didn’t even have to ask. He just gave it to me for free. He gives me everything for free. And he teaches me potions just because he knows I enjoy it, even though it’s probably an inconvenience for him.

Harry wondered vaguely if potions were invented regularly, and if Snape had ever done it.

Just ask him, no reason not to. He's answered my questions before.

Harry looked up from his beetle eyes toward Snape discreetly. It seemed the man had paused to allow his potion to simmer, and was brushing a stray clump of hair out of his face.

“Sir?” Harry asked tentatively.

 Snape looked up, eyebrows raised. “Yes?”

“Have you ever, er, invented any potions?”

I hope he’s not annoyed that I asked a personal question.

“I have, in a manner of speaking.”

“What have you…?”

“In my youth, I, ah, dabbled, or, shall we say, experimented.” Snape looked a bit amused, as though in reminiscence of past events.

“What did you invent, then, sir?”

“I was a rather… vengeful youth, at times, so I set out to exact revenge upon certain individuals who I felt had wronged me. I therefore created a potion meant to induce uncontrollable laughter in the drinker,”

Harry bit back a laugh. “Did it work? Sir?”

Snape smirked. “Seeing that it landed six individuals in the hospital wing, I do believe it did.”

Harry’s lips twitched. “Any others, sir?”

Snape looked thoughtful. “I do recall one other, meant to induce… severe indigestion.”

Harry choked back a laugh. “I assume that worked as well, sir?” Harry asked, unable to force back a grin at the thought of what that might entail.

Snape almost smiled. “I was rather fortunate not to be implicated, considering the fallout.”

He’s way too good at this to just teach…

“You do more than teach potions, sir, don’t you?”

“Astute observation, Mr. Potter.”

Was that a yes?

Harry looked at Snape inquiringly. “Do you develop potions now, sir?”

Snape nodded, an intent expression on his face. “For many years I have been in correspondence with various potions masters like myself, developing new or improving existing brews.”

That is such a cool job. I wonder why he teaches… That’s probably too personal, I can’t ask.

“What sort of potions have you worked on, sir?”

Snape paused as he took a moment to raise the flame beneath his cauldron. “For the greater part of six years,” said Snape, still fiddling with the temperature. “I, and a few others, have been involved in extensive research on the development of the Wolfsbane potion, which has been perfected only very recently.”

“What’s the Wolfsbane potion?” Harry asked interestedly.

Snape finished stabilizing the heat, looking up again. “You are aware that werewolves do indeed exist?”

Harry nodded; in fact, he’d been quite interested to learn that many mythical creatures he had heard of, growing up, did exist.

“The Wolfsbane potion allows the drinker to keep his or her human mind upon the transformation.”

“How does it work, sir? In the brain, I mean.”

Snape looked a bit surprised at the question. He studied Harry carefully for a moment, his gaze unusually soft.

Harry lowered his eyes uncomfortably, unsure of what was expected of him. He was relieved when Snape spoke again.

“Werewolves, from the time they are bitten, possess an entirely animalistic aspect of their brains, which is released at the time of transformation, and, on a lesser scale, when the subject loses control of his or her emotions while in human form.”

Harry nodded, forgetting entirely about his potion, which was due to be stirred again.

“The Wolfsbane potion, as a result of the interaction of its various ingredients, primarily inhibits the sympathetic nervous system. You are aware of its mechanics, Mr. Potter?”

I did want to know what was happening in my brain, oh, about ninety seven percent of the time.

"Yes, sir."   

Of course… adrenaline, the main sympathetic nervous system hormone, activates the fight or flight reaction, which is pure instinct. Animals act upon instinct, so the sympathetic nervous system probably runs on overdrive…

“Mr. Potter, your potion,” Snape warned.

Harry looked up quickly; he’d left it simmering for far too long, so it was bubbling madly, and the color had darkened considerably. He quickly turned off the flame, stirring rapidly. Once the bubbling had slowed, Harry looked up nervously at Snape. Was he annoyed that Harry had messed up?

Snape seemed quite unconcerned. “A handful of mint leaves would suffice as a cooling agent, Mr. Potter.”

Harry nodded quickly, obeying, and he was relieved to see that the potion paled and thickened slightly, as it was meant to.

“Bottle the potion, Mr. Potter. I believe we can continue our conversation upstairs. It’s time for lunch.”

Harry did so, then followed Snape upstairs to the kitchen for lunch. Once seated, Harry looked up, eager to continue their conversation. Snape swallowed a bite of food.

“Ah, yes. We were discussing the effects of the Wolfsbane potion concerning the sympathetic nervous system.” Snape paused to take a swallow of water from his glass. “A chemical messenger, acetylcholine, stimulates the release of adrenaline and noradrenaline. You are aware of what those are?”

“Yes, sir. They’re the fight or flight hormones.”

“Correct. The Wolfsbane potion inhibits the release of acetylcholine, therefore preventing the release of said hormones, which, in turn, inhibits the sympathetic nervous system. You understand why such a process would allow a werewolf to retain his human mind?”

Harry nodded. “I suppose the sympathetic nervous system runs on overdrive during transformations, which makes the person act only on their animal instinct, which is already greater than normal since he has an animal inside him, unlike most people.”

“Very good,” 

A thought occurred to Harry just then. “Sir, what would happen if a, er, non-werewolf took the potion?”

Snape raised his eyebrows. “A purely hypothetical query, I hope?”

Harry nodded quickly, suppressing a smile.

“Should a non-lycanthrope ingest even a small amount of the Wolfsbane potion, it would send him into a deep coma from which he may never wake, and will certainly permanently damage his nervous system, even if he did wake.”

I guess that would happen because the potion needs to be really powerful in order to overcome the wolf brain, so a human brain would be completely overwhelmed by it…

“Have you worked on any other potions, sir?” Harry asked.

 “As you have not yet begun to eat, I believe we can continue this conversation at a later point in time.”

Harry nodded reluctantly, realizing that he hadn’t yet even served himself. He ate quickly, all the while itching to go to the library to research more on the topic they’d been discussing.

---

The rest of the day continued at a surprisingly calming pace. Harry spent some more time in the lab, discussing Snape’s potions work, though Harry took care to pay more attention to his potion while doing so.

Later on, Harry joined Snape in his office to read for a while, as Snape did not want to leave Harry on his own. Harry didn’t object, though it made him feel like an invalid. He continually reminded himself not to feel resentful of the arrangement.

You did it to yourself, Harry thought firmly. It’s not as though he wants me underfoot at all hours of the day, he’s just doing what he has to. You have no right to complain.

Despite his inner tirade, Harry couldn’t help shifting in his seat, feeling crowded and irritated. It was hard to relax with a book when shut in a small room with another person. Every sound seemed amplified, as it often did when Harry felt anxious. The scratching of Snape’s quill sounded like nails scratching on a blackboard, and even the ticking of the clock on the wall felt jarring.

Harry ground his teeth, and loosened his grip on his book, allowing it to fall unceremoniously to the floor. Harry winced at the sound.

Snape looked up at the noise, one eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, sir,” Harry said quickly. “I didn’t mean to-”

“I take it you’ve had enough, Mr. Potter?” Snape interjected, not seeming particularly annoyed.

Harry nodded, unconsciously rubbing at his eyes.

“I think it’s time you prepared for bed, Mr. Potter. I had not noticed the time,” said Snape smoothly.

Harry immediately tensed at that.

I can’t go to bed. I can’t. I’ll have nightmares. I don’t want to sleep, I don’t want to think.

“Harry.”

Harry looked up at that, noticing that he’d clutched his arms around his chest, and was rocking back and forth in his chair slightly. He stopped moving, feeling foolish.

“You cannot take a potion tonight,” Snape said slowly. “However, I will assist you with clearing your mind.

He cleared off his desk with a quick wave of his wand, rising from his seat. “Come.”

Harry rose jerkily from his seat, picking up the book he’d dropped and storing it on its shelf. He then followed Snape upstairs, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. At least Snape wasn’t half-carrying him upstairs, this time.

When they reached Harry’s room, Snape sat on the chair near the wall, while Harry gathered up his pajamas to change in the bathroom, figuring he’d shower in the morning.

Harry emerged from the bathroom a few moments later, teeth brushed and pajama-clad. He climbed into bed, any residual good feelings from the surprisingly enjoyable day he’d had quickly evaporating.

He wanted his dagger. His only comfort in this unfamiliar, conflicting situation.

Harry hunched a little when Snape walked over. He wasn’t a little kid; he didn’t need to be put to bed. Heck, even when he had been a toddler no one had ever put him to bed. Snape seemed to disregard Harry’s embarrassment and pushed Harry back into his pillows.

“There is no shame in accepting help, Harry,” said Snape quietly, backing up a few feet.

Harry looked down, a tight feeling in his throat.

Why do I keep feeling like I want to cry? I don’t.

Harry felt Snape draw a bit closer, reaching out a hand to rest on the back of his head. He leaned unconsciously into the touch, flitting his eyes away when he felt them burn. Harry took a shuddering breath, managing to shove back the tears that had been welling up in his eyes. Snape didn’t comment, for which Harry was grateful. Instead, he spoke in a whisper, talking Harry through the process of clearing his mind.

Slowly, Harry’s recent stressors began to fade away into the back of his mind, and all he was aware of was Snape’s low, soothing voice, and the gentle, calming sensation of Snape’s hand on his head.

Harry drifted off into a deep, untroubled sleep.

---

It was some time after breakfast the following day, and Harry was curled on his chair with a thick book. He’d been pleasantly surprised to find that, today, Snape had allowed him to be in the library unsupervised.

Though he probably has monitoring spells and stuff on me, just in case I…

Harry forced back his irritation at being treated like a child. What else was Snape to do? He supposed he’d do the same, were he in Snape’s position.

I don’t want to think about that.

Harry had only read a few more pages when he heard the library door open. He looked up quickly to see Snape standing by the doorway.

“Am I late for lunch, sir?” Harry asked, looking up sharply at the clock. Snape shook his head, moving closer.

“No, lunch is not for a while yet. I would simply like to speak with you.”

Harry felt his stomach lurch. This was it. Snape was going to ask him all the questions he couldn’t answer, and then he’d have to remember everything. And the worst part was, he couldn’t object.

“Yes, sir,” Harry mumbled, setting down his book and rising to follow Snape out of the room. They entered the sitting room, and Snape pointed Harry toward the couch while he drew up a chair to sit facing Harry.

Harry pushed back into the cushions, hunching his shoulders, unconsciously picking at the skin around his cuticles. He jerked slightly when he felt Snape gently pry his fingers apart. He looked up.

“This is not an interrogation, Harry.”

Harry nodded, attempting in vain to relax his shoulders.

“I am aware that you would prefer not to speak, but we must,” Snape said in a low voice, releasing Harry’s fingers to lean back into his chair.

Harry nodded, biting down on his lip. Snape sighed, looking tense.

I don’t wanna talk, I don’t wanna talk, I don’t-

“Harry.”

“Yes, sir?”

“It is not my intention to cause you discomfort. I will only be asking you what I feel is vital for me to be aware of. If you feel you cannot answer, I will not insist you do so.”

Harry stomach unclenched a little. So he wouldn’t have to fight to keep certain things to himself. Snape wouldn’t insist. But he would try to give the man at least something. He owed that much to him.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said in a slightly wavering voice. “I-I’ll try to…”

“That is all I ask.” said Snape quietly. Snape leaned forward in his seat slightly, and Harry forced himself not to shrink back.

“Prior to your arrival here, you resided with you aunt, uncle, and cousin?”

Harry jerked his head in semblance of a nod, eyes on his lap.

If you don’t count my year-and-a-half long jaunt in the streets…

“How did you get on with them, Harry?”

I can answer that one…

“Not particularly well, sir.”

“Why is that?”

Harry shrugged.

‘Cause they hated my guts and wanted me dead?

“We just didn’t like each other.”

Snape seemed to want to ask more about that, but he seemed to let it go. “Can you describe your late uncle for me, Harry?”

Harry tensed at that. An obese, hideous bigot who reveled in the agony of others?

“Large. And loud,” was all Harry opted to say. Snape nodded, his face inscrutable.

“Did he take charge of discipline in the home?” Snape asked carefully. Harry tensed even further, his breaths quickening.

I don’t want to answer that. But I have to say something.

‘Yes,” Harry answered shortly.

“Harry.” Harry moved his gaze from his fingernails to Snape’s face. “Can you try to expound upon that?” asked Snape, almost gently.

“Do the details really matter, sir?” Harry asked tersely.

“They do, Mr. Potter. As I am in a position of authority over you, it is absolutely vital that I know how you have been treated in the past, so I can avoid erring in my dealings with you. I fear I have already done so out of ignorance.”

Harry took a deep, shuddering breath. Could he say anything to Snape? It wasn’t as though Vernon’s questionable methods of discipline would give Snape any ideas. It was clear that Snape didn’t want to hurt him.

I can just give him a basic idea, because it’s obvious he knows, or suspects that Vernon liked to knock me about. It won’t change anything if I say. It’s not like I need to tell him about that man. That wasn’t even a discipline method anyway, just a... It’s not relevant.

“Harry?” Snape pressed.

“He… when I messed up, he liked to knockmearoundabit,” Harry mumbled, the last part of his sentence entirely incoherent.

“Would you care to repeat that, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked, the epitome of patience.

No, I would not care to repeat that, actually…

Harry felt himself getting unaccountably angry, and he forced himself not to snap at the man.

He doesn’t deserve that from me.

“He hit me.” Harry muttered, unable to conceal his frustration. Snape closed eyes, sighing heavily, but not seeming surprised by Harry’s grudging revelation.

“Do you fear that I will do the same to you?” Snape asked quietly, his face unreadable again.

Harry shook his head. “No, sir. Not anymore.”

“Good.”

There was a momentary pause, where Snape seemed to be weighing his words. He inhaled slowly to speak again.

“For that incident that occurred in the library shortly after you arrival, I feel I have not apologized enough,” said Snape intensely, leaning closer to Harry with his hands on his knees. “Under any circumstance, my behavior was reprehensible, but in light of what you have just confirmed for me, I cannot…” Snape’s voice trailed off, but Harry heard true remorse in his statement.

“It’s all right, sir,” Harry whispered.

Snape shook his head.

“No, it most certainly is not. I can assure you, however, that it will not happen again.”

Harry nodded, chewing on his lip.

Snape seemed to be considering something, and he then spoke. “You say you do not fear me, but considering the incident when I ordered you to face the wall…”

Harry cringed. Stupid stupid stupid. Why did you have to go and act all weird?

“Harry?” Harry looked up, realizing that he’d failed to register the rest of Snape’s question. He knew what the man was asking, though.

“It wasn’t you,” Harry whispered. Snape simply looked on patiently, eyebrows raised, compelling Harry to continue.

“I- it- I just don’t like when I can’t see who’s in the room. I thought you were… someone else.”

Brilliant. How eloquent. Oscar-worthy prose.

Harry was relieved to see Snape nod in understanding.

“I do apologize for insisting you do that which frightened you,” said Snape, his dark eyes boring into Harry’s green ones, willing him to take his words as truth.

Harry wanted to be angry at that comment. He wanted to valiantly deny that he had been afraid, that he had ever even been acquainted with the feeling.

But it was a lie.

He had been terrified. His whole life, really, he had been afraid; the fear was the only emotion Harry hadn’t learned to shut away.

“I don’t think you would do what they-he did. I just wasn’t thinking straight,” Harry said quietly.

Snape nodded slowly. “That is good to hear, however, I would prefer to avoid causing such reactions in the future, you understand.”

“Yes, sir.”

Snape leaned back into his chair, steepling his fingers. “I noticed that you made a reference to your uncle in plural terms, just now,” he said slowly, eyes narrowed slightly.

Harry felt his insides freeze.

No. I can’t talk about that. It’s off-limits. He can’t know.

“Harry?”

Harry shook his head fiercely, his hands trembling.

“I can’t sir. I can’t,” he whispered.

Harry felt Snape’s eyes boring into him as he tensed further, eyes trained on his knees.

“You may go.”

Harry took a shuddering breath, and he fled to his room to curl up under his bed.

Wishing for his dagger.

Wishing for oblivion.