To Trust by Abie
Past Featured StorySummary: Harry Potter is located in London in the dead of night. How exactly did he end up there, and what has he been doing? Well, any kid with half a brain knows not to talk to strangers.
Categories: Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Dumbledore
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: None
Takes Place: 1st summer before Hogwarts
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Neglect, Suicide Themes
Challenges: None
Series: To Trust
Chapters: 22 Completed: Yes Word count: 73999 Read: 303000 Published: 03 Apr 2014 Updated: 02 Mar 2015
Realizations by Abie
Author's Notes:
Hey! Long time no speak. I'm so, so sorry for the wait. I've been incredibly busy this past month, and there has been no indication as of yet that my workload will lessen. Hopefully I'll be able to post the next chapter more quickly.
Thanks a million to my beta, you're awesome :)
Happy reading.

As Harry brushed his hand through Hedwig’s soft, white feathers, his lips turned upward against his will. Harry had never been particularly interested in animals; in fact, he’d seen them more as inconveniences than anything else, but with Hedwig, he couldn’t imagine how he’d lasted this long without her.

“You know, it’s weird, living with Snape,” Harry murmured to her, moving over to the window seat in his bedroom with Hedwig perched on his shoulder.

“Once I left Privet Drive, I thought I wouldn’t want to have anyone in charge of me again.” Harry paused to settle further into the window seat, transferring Hedwig to his lap. “But with Snape, I… sort of like it.”

“He… he’s almost like a...” his voice trailed off.

Hedwig looked straight at him with her intelligent, amber eyes. Harry didn’t care what biology dictated; he knew that Hedwig understood every word he said.

“You had a mom or dad once, didn’t you?” Harry asked softly, stroking the feathers on her head. Hedwig hooted softly, hopping up to nip Harry’s ear. Harry rested his head against hers for a moment.

“I’m going soft,” Harry muttered to himself.

But, for some reason, that didn’t really matter.

Noticing the time, Harry rose carefully and made his way downstairs for breakfast, Hedwig still perched on his shoulder.

“You’ve become inseparable, I see,” drawled Snape as Harry entered the kitchen. Harry shrugged, giving Snape a half-smile.

Harry sat down, reaching for the fruit bowl, when he noticed long, thin package propped again the table beside his chair.

“Uh, sir?” Harry asked tentatively, looking up.

“It is your eleventh birthday today, is it not?”

Oh, right, it is.

For obvious reason, Harry had never set much store by birthdays. He was still struggling to fully process the idea of Snape purchasing Hedwig for him.

“You already bought Hedwig for me,” Harry said, flicking his eyes away uncomfortably.

“I did,” said Snape, inclining his head. “However, I felt it appropriate to give you something on your birthday itself, as well.”

Harry chewed on his lip.

“O-okay,” he whispered. “Thank you, sir.”

“Go on, open it if you wish,” Snape prompted.

Harry lifted the package carefully, ripping off the brown paper, then opening the box inside.

It was a broomstick. It was the broomstick that he’d been using, but it had been polished to perfection and its bristles had been straightened and untangled so that it looked brand-new

Harry stared at it in shock, then looked up, wide-eyed, at Snape.

The man’s face was unreadable, but there was an unmistakable warmth in his eyes. “First years are not allowed their own broomsticks. However, I am permitted to keep it for you while school is in session, granting you permission to make use of it when I see fit.”

Harry inhaled, finally regaining control of his vocal chords.

“Sir, I-I… thank you.”

 Snape give him a small, fleeting smile, then immediately schooled his face back into its normal, unreadable state.

“Eat first, then feel free to give it a test run. Some of its features have been updated.”

Within moments, Harry was zooming through the air, Hedwig flying alongside him.

---

“So… I gather you preferred to remain outdoors while living with your relatives?”

Always start with the easy questions. It will give the child a more tangible sense of safety.

“Yes.” The child paused, unconsciously picking at the bark of the tree behind him and chewing his lower lip. Severus wanted to pull it out of his teeth. 

“I always feel more… more relaxed outside,” Harry said quietly.

That would make sense. If the child was as mistreated as I am led to believe, the outdoors would certainly provide a sense of safety for him. Goodness knows I felt the same way.

 “You are not alone in that sentiment.” Severus said, studying the boy’s facial expression carefully.

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, I know.” He looked wistful for a moment, then seemed to pull himself back into the present.

I can see Lily in him. He does not resemble her in personality, but in these rare moments of vulnerability… he is his mother’s son.

“I slept in a cupboard,” Harry said suddenly.

Severus’ eyebrows shot to his hairline.

Merlin’s graying beard.

“Did you?”

Slowly, Harry nodded.

“It was the cupboard under the stairs. They… they didn’t like to waste space on me.”

A cupboard under the stairs… That explains his reaction to my storage cupboard. Merlin…How can I possibly respond to that?

Severus watched the boy carefully. Harry’s eyes looked hard, as though he had tried too hard to deny all feelings associated with that particular experience that the emotions had bypassed cold and became almost too numb to bear.

“That day, in the laboratory, when I told you to fetch a spare cauldron…” Severus began. “That cupboard must have brought up some difficult feelings for you.”

The boy’s face suddenly flashed with something like panic, then turned pale. Harry started breathing hard, and Severus stiffened, half expecting another panic attack.

But the child then seemed to calm, and his breathing slowed, though his face remained pale.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, what happened there,” Harry said quietly.

There is more to this than he is saying. It is not just the cupboard itself, it is what may have happened in the cupboard, or perhaps what may have caused him to be put in there.

“Harry?” Severus prompted.

The boy shook his head. Upon closer look, Harry was visibly holding himself still, and it seemed that he was working to prevent his lower lip from quivering.

If he would just allow himself to feel, to release some of his emotion… Who are you fooling, Severus? You are hardly the personification of emotional expression.

Severus took pity on the child, and he was about to excuse him from the conversation when the boy visibly relaxed. It was as though he had entirely switched off his emotions regarding the topic they had been discussing.

Harry turned his head to look towards the edges of the property, a contemplative expression on his face.

“Sir, why do you live here, with so many protections?”

Severus blinked.

Well. That is a somewhat drastic change of topic… Though, thinking back, we were discussing the outdoors, and the cupboard he mentioned is surely one of the reasons for his preference to be outside. But, of all the questions he could have asked, how can I provide him with any honest answer, considering the nature of the truth? And how can I not, considering what I have asked of him?

Severus sighed.

“It became… necessary during the last war for me to reside in a protected area, considering my role in it.”

Severus paused, knowing that it was not enough, and that the boy was bound to probe further.

“What was your role?”

Severus closed his eyes for a moment.

He cannot know of my tainted past. It may erode his sense of safety, and it will likely frighten him. Yet I cannot hide this from him, not now, when his trust is still so fragile.

Severus opened his eyes to look directly at Harry

“I served as a spy in the war, acting as a servant of the Dark Lord whilst relaying all information that I received to the Order of the Phoenix, which was a secret society working to overthrow him.”

The boy tilted his head, forehead furrowed slightly.

“But… weren’t Voldemort’s servants branded? I read that you have to be willing…” Harry said slowly, puzzled.

Severus had to physically prevent himself from flinching at the mention of his old master and nemesis’ name, and at what the child had figured out.

He is far too clever for an eleven year old. I cannot lie to him. It will be better in the long run if he learns the truth now.

That did not prevent him from feeling a profound sense of imminent loss as he opened his mouth to speak.

“I was a very angry, misguided young man, and I was led to believe that a life in the service of the Dark Lord would provide me with opportunities that I would not otherwise be given.”

Severus paused for a moment, both to gather his thoughts, and to monitor the child’s expression. It was impressively unreadable, which Severus took as a good omen. The boy was not recoiling in horror or disgust, after all.

I am not being entirely honest with him. I cannot be.  If he knew that I indirectly caused his parents’ deaths, I would lose whatever trust I have earned from him. And where would that leave him?

“I spent a brief period of time in the service of the Dark Lord,” he continued, “during which I realized the error of my ways, and I offered my services to the Order of the Phoenix. I was provided with this home, as the Dark Lord and his followers knew the location of my previous place of residence.”

Severus had been focusing his gaze slightly to the left of the boy’s face while he spoke. He then shifted his eyes back to meet Harry’s, both pained and resigned.

---

Harry listened carefully while Snape spoke, noticing that the man seemed unable to meet his eyes.

He’s ashamed, Harry realized. He expects me to hate him for it. But how can I, considering…?

The man stopped speaking, and met Harry’s eyes squarely. He seemed to be steeled for something.

Harry schooled his expression.

“I… I think everyone's done things they wish they hadn’t.” Harry said haltingly.

He must have had it bad, like me, to do what he did. Does that make me normal, or both of us strange?

Snape was looking at Harry with a rare glimmer of incredulity in his eyes.

“You are wiser than many decades your senior.”

Harry shook his head violently.

No. I’m not. It’s only because I did something worse than they did.

Snape narrowed his eyes.

“You disagree?”

Harry thought back, recalling a flash of fear and rage, and a great surge of energy. Vernon had been sent flying through the air, but his many pounds of padding had cushioned his fall. But that other man, the new man Vernon had brought over to do “business” with, did not have such an advantage. Harry’s magic had sent the man crashing into the wall on the opposite side of the room, his head smashing into it with a sickening crack.

Harry’s most vivid memory of that incident was the blood trickling from the man’s right ear.

Harry had left for good after that incident. He’d packed his meager belongings as quickly as he could, Aunt Petunia’s shrill screams and Vernon’s bellows of rage pressing into his eardrums, invading his senses like a poison that he’d never quite been able to expel.

He’d run for the door, stumbling in his haste, but before passing the threshold, he’d felt Aunt Petunia’s bony fingers grip his shoulder. He had turned, prepared for a fight, but she’d simply pressed a wad of bills into his hand and nudged him out the door.

The last thing he had seen was Aunt Petunia mouthing two words. I’m sorry.

“Harry?”

Harry blinked, pulling himself back into the present.

“I- I hurt someone, really bad, once.”

Snape opened his mouth, but Harry broke in.

“I think I killed him,” he whispered, unconsciously wrapping his arms around his torso. He kept his eyes on the ground, not wanting to see the expression on Snape’s face. But he felt a hand gently grip his chin, forcing his eyes up.

Snape’s eyes looked gentle; he didn’t seem at all disturbed, in contrast it seemed he understood what Harry was feeling even more intimately than Harry did himself.

Because he did the same thing, obviously.

At that thought, Harry felt his muscles slacken in relief. He hadn’t realized how tightly he was holding himself.

He gets it. He understands what it feels like, because he’s been there…

When Harry felt a strong arm wrap around his shoulder blades, he realized that he’d been unintentionally leaning against Snape. Embarrassed, he tried to pull himself upright, but Snape held on to him more tightly.

“It’s alright,” the man said quietly.

Harry took a few deep breaths, and stayed.

Snape did not speak for a few moments. It seemed that he was providing Harry with the space he needed to compose himself, and he was grateful for it.

“I left that day,” Harry said suddenly, this time successfully prying himself out of Snape’s grip and backing up a step.

It doesn’t matter anymore at this point, does it?

Snape furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“I saw him on the ground, and I ran. I never went back.”

Snape stared at him for a moment, understanding dawning on him.

“Just… how long ago did that occur?” Snape said in a low voice.

Harry chewed on his lip.

“Er… about a year and a half.”

Snape stiffened, and his eyes narrowed. Harry took an unconscious step back, digging his fists into his pockets.

Snape seemed to notice Harry’s reaction and his demeanor visibly calmed.

“Do you mean to tell me that you were living on your own for a year and a half before arriving here?”

Oh, that’s what he’s upset about...

Harry felt an unfamiliar, warm feeling encasing him. Snape cared. About him. He shifted his eyes downward.

“Er… yeah?”

“And you lived… where?” the man said tersely.

“In London. On the streets, in libraries… places like that,” Harry shrugged.

Snape took several deep breaths.

“Look at me, Harry.”

Harry looked up anxiously.

“You understand that such a thing will not be permitted to occur again under any circumstance?”

Harry jerked his head in semblance of a nod, his mouth dry.

Snape leaned down towards Harry, his dark eyes boring into Harry’s. “You have a home here, Harry. No matter what may occur in the future, you will always have a place to come back to.”

Harry took a shaky breath, willing himself not to release the tears that were stinging the corners of his eyes.

Snape took Harry’s hand and gripped it firmly.

“Is that understood?”

Harry nodded.

---

Severus swore under his breath as he crumbled up the fifth piece of parchment he had ruined. He set down his quill, recognizing that he was not in the correct frame of mind to accomplish anything more this evening.

It was closer to midnight, really. The boy was in bed, hopefully asleep, and Severus had hoped to complete the second draft of his thesis regarding the changes in his improved version of the Adrenaline Draught. The fact that he'd scarcely made a dent in the introduction after over an hour of drafting should have indicated to him the futility of his work long ago.

The child had been living on the streets of London, left to fend for himself, alone and uncared for as a stray dog. And here I was thinking we had failed him by leaving him with those people. How did this escape our notice? Where was Albus? Where was I?

Severus rubbed his tired eyes, inadvertently knocking over in inkwell with his elbow. Muttering to himself, he righted it with a flick of his wand.

It is a miracle that the boy is still alive and functional.

But there was something flickering on the edges of Severus’ conscious. As if the situation could be any direr than what had already been known.

The boy’s startling reaction at the mention of his cupboard. His assertions that it no longer mattered. The fact that his protective magic had flared up powerfully enough to possibly kill a full-grown man.

The mild, niggling suspicions Severus had had at the back of his mind for weeks were now coming to the forefront, convincing him that they were no mere doubts.

It is vital that I confirm these suspicions as soon as possible so that the proper measures can be taken. I am not doing nearly enough to help this child; I have failed him more than I thought possible.

But how would he get the boy to open up regarding such a topic?

He may not even recall it in its entirety. Trauma of that nature is commonly repressed…

He needed to phrase the question to the child in a manner that would not frighten him, but would simultaneously provide Severus with the information he sought.

Calling it a night, Severus cleared his desk and slowly made his way upstairs, deep in thought.

Whether or not my suspicions are correct, the boy needs help. I am not doing enough for him, nor am I capable of it. There are not nearly enough people in the wizarding community trained in child psychology, perhaps a handful of muggle-borns, or squibs… I do not want the child to end up like me.

Severus settled into bed, clearing his mind with a bit more difficulty than usual.

If my suspicions are correct, Albus has a hell of a lot to answer for…

---

Harry woke up feeling groggy. As he rubbed the last vestiges of sleep out of his eyes, a thought niggled in the back of his mind. He had been having odd dreams that night, though he couldn’t quite recall their exact nature.

I was dreaming about something to do with Dudley, maybe all the Dursleys…

Harry thought harder, still curled up in his bed instead of immediately rising as he usually did.

Then it hit him.

I don’t know how they died.

How had he not thought of this earlier? Dumbledore had seemed to assume that Harry had already known they were dead when he found him in London, and obviously, Harry wasn’t going to disabuse him of that notion.

Admittedly, he had not had much time to think about it as he’d been whisked away to live with Snape within moments of that conversation, but still…

Why should it matter to me, anyway? It’s not like they cared if I lived or not.

But it did matter. Maybe, if he knew, it would give him a sense of closure so he wouldn’t have to think about them anymore.

And Dudley was just a kid…

Harry shook his head as though attempting to shake off his thoughts, and he pulled himself out of bed.

A short while later, Harry found himself out on the grounds in the pale yellow glow of early morning. He walked over to his tree slowly, shoes making faint squelching sound as he walked across the dewy grass, still thinking hard.

What could have caused their deaths? An accident? Did someone do it deliberately? Or it may have been wizards…

Harry nearly kicked the tree trunk in frustration.

I really, really need to know. It’s not as if I could ask Dumbledore. He’d probably lie, anyway. Hell, maybe he was even involved… no. That’s pretty unlikely. He left me there in the first place, so he’d want them alive. No, I can’t ask anyone, I need to find out myself so I’ll know for sure…

Harry looked toward the edge of the property, not really seeing it, when the faint blur of the protective enchantments caught his gaze. He narrowed his eyes in thought, a vague idea gradually gaining clarity in his mind.

The End.
End Notes:
Well, that was a semi-cliffie, I would say, as no one is in imminent danger of dying as of yet, so don't let it stop you from reviewing.


This story archived at http://www.potionsandsnitches.org/fanfiction/viewstory.php?sid=3048