“An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behavior.”

-Victor Frankl

**

When Severus was a child, his mother told him about the butterflies and the candle. She was an avid reader, and though they didn’t have any money to spare on books she always made sure that Severus heard a different story before bedtime every night, even though he might have gone hungry to bed that night.

Sometimes, when she was telling a story and forgot the rest (as she had read them in her early teenage years) she continued with her own version. Her soft velvety voice drowning out his rampant father in his drunken state downstairs.

They would lie in bed together, her warm body that somehow always smelled of vanilla snuggled up with his under the ratty blanket, and she would run her hand through his hair, and he would lay his head on her chest, his hear on her erratic heart, as she told a different story every night.
When he fell asleep, she would lock his door, go downstairs and deal with the drunken man she had married, bearing his abuse so her sleeping son wouldn’t have to in the morning.

Every time Severus was reminded of his mother, telling him stories at night, in his little room, on his bed, just the two of them… he felt his chest tighten with a typhoon of nostalgia and the scent of vanilla while his stomach coiled with anger.

When she was sick, and his father didn’t even care enough to soften his blows, his mother still made it into his room, and they still laid in bed together, and she would wheeze and cough and her clammy hand would shake. But she would still kiss his forehead and make up a tale she might have heard in the past or just concocted in her own head.

The last time Severus heard one of his mother’s stories she was whispering sweet nothings about a boy named Sevy who was a very happy boy who lived in a big castle with his friends with new clothes and all the food in the world. It was two days before he got his letter.

She told him that unlike other stories this one would be real, because Severus was magic, and Severus was ready to accept that because he knew. He thought it was just that easy, because he could do magic and his mother said it to him with such conviction that not believing it seemed like a heinous crime. He and Lily would live in a magical castle forever when he turned eleven where no one could hurt them. And since Severus was magical, he could bring his mommy along and make her well again because he was special.

His mother told him he was special.

His mother whom never got to even see him receive his acceptance letter because she had taken a beer bottle to the head. His mother, whom couldn’t soften the blows of his father’s abuse once he found the letter, who couldn’t see him off to school or aboard the train because her body was too beaten up for her to move. His mom wasn’t there to comfort him after it turned out that no, he wasn’t special after all, and he got sorted into Slytherin.

His mother who for the first time in his life, wasn’t with him when he cried himself to sleep. Not because his mother was left behind, sick and vulnerable to his father’s fists of abomination, but because Severus had been separated from Lily and through some twisted logic, that night, Lily’s separation seemed worse than the thought of his mother being all alone. The first night Mommy hadn’t come up to lie in his bed with a new story and the first night that Severus didn’t care.

He found out years later that she had cancer, too late for it to matter, but he felt idiotic after learning of it. His mother had died of a muggle illness that seemed so insignificant, so utterly mundane. It seemed like she was being punished for marrying a muggle, still years after regretting it.

She stayed for him, for Severus. All those years, she endured the pain and humiliation because of her child. She had a very big heart, his mother, and Severus sometimes thought of how disappointed she would be in him, if she saw the way he treated Lily’s boy.

She told those stories to sooth the aching longing of a better life in his chest. She would have wanted Severus to live up to the legacy, so, albeit reluctantly, he did.

Severus was decided, he had learnt the lesson his mother had been trying to teach him for years, so when he and Potter were silently making their way back to the house, Severus told him the story of the butterflies and the candle, in hopes to distract the boy from his earlier slip up.

And Potter drank up every word that came out of his mouth and the whole time all Severus could think about was the image of Harry’s uncle beating him with a bloodied belt when the boy slipped and broke a plate in parallel to the memory of his father drunkenly beating his mom. The monster then locked the battered boy with the belt back in his cupboard, forgotten until the next punishment session, in his memory, his father slumped down that opposite wall across his mother and passed out.

It was inexplicable, how the boy not only walked away from that, mentally, somehow, he seemed /fine/ with it. The severity of their abuse was appalling and yet, the teen still acted like a healthy-if not a bit affection starved- boy with an annoyingly cheery smile.

Severus didn’t know how, and even though he thought the tumors might have been playing an altering hand in the boy’s emotional state for years, he still felt baffled.

The potion master felt ashamed of himself as he went on with his story and they finally reached the porch, by then the weather was mildly humid, and the sun was starting to set. He let a thoughtful Harry walk ahead of him as he desperately tried occluding his mind.

Annie the goat was squirming in his inner pocket, and Severus had half a mind to banish the thing when he heard Harry’s loud startled gasp from the living room.

He barely had any time to think before he dashed through the door to reach Harry’s dumbstruck figure.

“Hello boys,” Albus smiled from the couch.

“Professor Dumbledore.” Potter whispered under his breath. The child looked terrified. Instinctively, Severus gripped Potter’s shoulder, the same way a wary parent would constrict a restless child.

Albus smoothed a hand down his beard, his eyes passively lingering on the potion master’s hand. Harry was trembling under his hold. The boy was clearly frightened the old man would punish them somehow.

Oh how wrong he was.

“You must forgive me,” Albus sincerely apologized to the boy, as though surprised by Potter’s thunderstruck cageyness. “I forgot to bring you scones.”

“What?” Harry frowned in confusion. Severus rolled his eyes at Albus’s lack of subtly. Albus and his tests. Of course, Harry wouldn’t have remembered their last conversation. Albus knew that.

Severus sneered over his head. “Nothing you should be concerned about. Go wait upstairs.”

“But sir-.” Harry trailed off and then looked at Dumbledore.

“Professor Dumbledore I can explain-.” He tried to tell the headmaster but Severus was having none of it.

“Go, Potter.”

Harry stood rooted to the ground, his eyes bearing into Dumbledore’s crinkling stare. “It was nice seeing you Harry.” Albus said with a kind hand gesture. “We will talk soon.” Harry nodded miserably.

He ushered the boy without turning to face the headmaster. Harry was reluctant to leave, his feet dragging on the floor as Severus firmly guided him to the stairs.

He tightened his hold on Harry’s shoulder. Ignoring the boy’s pathetic attempts to free himself. “Just go upstairs Potter. Do not come down.”
Harry whirled to face him, his face distressed and contorted.

“Severus-” the boy faltered.

The potion master cut him off. “I won’t repeat myself again.”

Harry bit his lip and threw one last anxious glance to the living room where Albus was calmly sitting with his leg crossed over the other, his figure standing out from the bland living room with his radiant purple robes and flamboyant red boots.

Severus reached a hand into his pocket and pulled Annie out discreetly. He cupped Potter’s hand around the white squirming mouse. “Go.”
Harry held Annie close to his chest as he nodded.

He watched him leave, completely stolid. Even though he was bristling on the inside, a cold, calculated rage washed over him as he finally turned away from the stairs and fumed back into the living room.

“Things are going well, I see.” The headmaster said pleasantly. “He calls you by your name.”

“Cast a silencing charm.” He growled to the older man.

“Severus-.”

“Do it or so merlin help me Albus, I’m enraged enough that taking my wand out would not be in your best interests.”

“Is that a threat my boy?”

“Trust me, it’s a promise. Cast it.” Albus heaved a sigh as he flicked his wand and muttered under his breath. His gleaming eyes dulled a fraction.
Severus waited almost a full minute to begin. “Did you know?”

Albus cocked his head with interest. “Knew what Severus? That you turned three traumatized muggles into land creatures?”

That was quick, Severus thought dryly. It usually took Albus at least half a day to find out about anyone’s misbehaving. All things considered, the potion master was impressed by the older man’s dedication. If only that hard borne devotion extended to the physical and mental state of his underlings.

“That was quick,” he voiced his thoughts. “Even for you. I was not expecting you until later tonight.”

Albus nonchalantly crossed his legs. “The blood wards fell the moment you and Harry left Severus, you nearly gave an old man a heart attack. You’re lucky no one at the ministry intercepted your little outburst.”

“You turned them back?”

Albus titled his head to the side. “They’re in my office as we speak, I’m afraid Minerva is having some difficulty reversing their states back to its former self. As you know, curses that have intense motive behind them are the hardest to diminish.”

“Good.” Severus gritted. “That wasn’t what I asked you Albus. Did you know why I did it? You must have known.”

Albus uncrossed his legs. “I’m here to know.”

Severus felt the irritation fester under his skin like an over eager creature, ready to burst out at the man and tear his smug grinning face into ribbons. Oh how he wished he could do that.

Instead, Severus glowered at the old man. “How could you not? How could you not know the boy you were pampering and preening to your own devices was abused? How could you possibly not know about the things those pests did to Lily’s son?”

“Severus you have to understand, I am not capable of knowing every little detail in everyone’s lives, aside from the fact that I had no other choice but to leave him there.”

“There’s always a choice, always another solution. Do you know what you’ve done to that boy? Do you have any idea of the damages you’ve cost him over the years by willingly handing him to them?”

In some twisted way, he later realized, Harry’s life was running a similar line as of his own. Severus remembered when he was the boy’s age, when James Potter and his lackeys took Albus’s oversight as an exultant opportunity to torment him.

When he had no choice but to go home every summer, clean up after his drunken and (newly addicted) father whose vicious tongue often hurt more than his fists, and then constantly tolerate Potter’s relentless abuse and groom his growing jealousy over Lily’s closeness to the git.

Potter outgrew his bullying and Vernon Dursley would never compare to the animal that raised Severus, but that didn’t make him any less of a monster, and Petunia as well, to some extent.

“It was prudent that Harry didn’t die and so the only solution was leaving him with the muggles, where he was safe and he was being monitored -”
Severus cut in with a snarl. “Really? Then where were your pawns when that excuse of an uncle beat the shit out of him with a belt? When Petunia almost hacked the boy’s scalp off with a pair of garden scissors? Why didn’t they step in when he was being beaten, starved, and belittled?”

“I was never notified of such incidents Severus. I’m not a monster.”

Severus sneered. “No you’re correct. You don’t know things when they are at odds with your interests Albus.”

The headmaster shook his head with regret. It made Severus’s insides recoil. “You always thought the worst of me. When are you going to realize that I’m just a human like anybody else?”

“You needed the blood wards so badly that you turned a blind eye to those damned muggles tormenting Lily’s boy! The boy I swore to protect! You let me believe they were pampering and spoiling him like a prince all these years
just to delude me into obeying your orders out of spite.”

“You are projecting your anger at me because you are mad at yourself.”

“No, I’m mad at you!” Severus spat. “You could have prevented this, and you didn’t. Potter was a victim to your meddling,” there was a significant pause. “As was I. You could have saved me too and you didn’t.”

“Harry and you are similar in more ways than you realize Severus, but trust me, the abuse wasn’t supposed to be one of them. The boy was supposed to live.”

“Well guess what? He’s not. He’s dying Albus. He’s dying not knowing that you have wronged him. Your brilliant plan didn’t go well did it? What use is a boy whose life is on a deadline? He won’t be of use for you anymore.”

“He wasn’t just a weapon to me.”

Severus let out a humorless laugh. “If he wasn’t he wouldn’t have stayed in that wretched hole for almost fourteen years. The things I saw in their heads…which you must have too. You turned a blind eye to it,” it was a repetitive cycle. Severus knew that. “Well I’m not going to let you.”

“Severus is this really about Harry?”

“It doesn’t matter if it is,” Severus snarled. “I’m not a frightened fifteen year old anymore Albus. I’m not the boy you disregarded after he almost got mauled by a bloody werewolf, you know that.”

“That child have been sick and incapacitated for all these years. Do you understand that? A boy with stage four brain cancer couldn’t possibly react to trauma the same way as normal people,” he pointed an accusing finger toward the roof. “That boy upstairs doesn’t understand that he was being abused. Not to the full extent anyways, because he has the mental capacity of a ten-year-old child, with the emotions of a sixteen-year-old teenager who was traumatized all his life. That’s your fault.”

“The Dursleys will be questioned and punished accordingly, rest assured Severus.”

“What about you? Who punishes you Albus? You’re the reason that boy slept in a cupboard for ten years. The reason he was beaten with a bloody belt at the slightest inconvenience. The reason why he’s dying.”

“You empathize with him.”

Severus’ jaw clicked audibly at the old man’s tone. A tone that bordered blaming. “I’m human, not a pile of rock.”

“And ironically enough, some people tend to disagree.” Albus shrugged. His hand reached into his pocket and Severus saw the man popping a sherbet lemon in his mouth. “You are human Severus, one of the best there is, if I say so myself. Much better than I ever hoped to be.”

“Is that your excuse?”

“It’s not a good one.” He admitted.

“Does it bother you now, that he won’t defeat him? The Prophesy is null.”

“Not in the least, Severus,” Albus said cryptically. “But the thought of pressuring that boy any further physically pains me, even though he might have been our only shot at victory.”

“This was not his war.”

The man opened his arms in surrender. “And he shall not finish it anyway.” Albus vowed, waiting until he had received Severus’ grudging nod. “I need the memories of what you’ve seen in the muggles’ heads and what led to their brutal persecution.” The headmaster continued.

“I want them punished.”

Potter’s ridiculous sense of justice wasn’t enough for Severus. He knew what the boy thought he was doing, he knew that Potter saw his impending death as a permit to forgive any living soul he passed in hopes of atonement for the things he had never done. He knew Potter felt guilty of…something.

Severus had no tolerance for that. When it came to abuse, according to his own personal experience, the only way out was the ultimate punishment. If Potter wouldn’t ask for it then he would.

“And they will be.” Albus’ promise was bland. Severus wanted more. He needed more. Anything that could erases the things he had seen that morning from his head once and for all.

“I don’t want Potter to be involved in any of it,” he snapped without really processing the words. “Keep it undertones.”

“Harry seems better. More alert.” Albus thought it would alter the tension, changing the subject so abruptly. Severus decided to play coy.

“He takes the potions,”

“Does he know yet?” Severus raised his eyebrows at the inquiry. Was Albus hoping that Potter found out about it? It was under his own resolute orders that Severus had refrained from mentioning any details about this ‘boosting potion’ to Potter.

Boosting potion, the ridiculous name made Severus chortle every time. Potter was so naïve to believe such a name existed, but of course, they couldn’t just blurt out names like ‘Lapis Capturam’ without the boy or the Granger girl suspecting anything. The direct translation from Latin was a dead giveaway.

So Poppy and Severus just came up with a name on the spot in the headmaster’s office, with Potter being too starry eyed to notice anything amiss. Harry just went with it without batting an eyelash.

“Of course not, do you take me for a fool?” Albus nodded in satisfaction.

“How is he, really?”

“As fine as he can be. There are some…glitches.” He didn’t offer an explanation. He needed Albus intrigued enough to hold him at bay, but uninformed to minimize the chance of deceit. Potter’s odd symptoms posed no threat to anyone but himself, and Severus had it under control.

“And how far along are you? I presume things must have been going well with the list?”

“Things are well.” Severus conceded. Like hell, he was going to tell that man anything. It wasn’t a matter of trust…it was privacy. Harry needed that privacy, particularly now more than ever.

“How many items have you crossed off the list? It should be ten by now.”

Severus let the silence fall between them for a few scarce moments.

“Four.” The potion master admitted. Painstakingly.

Albus looked startled. “Only four?” he exclaimed. “Severus that is not the work ethic you promised me. We’re already halfway through April, that boy doesn’t have much time.”

“I think it’s better to leave that matter to me headmaster, seeing as I’m the boy’s guardian.”

“Temporary guardian, an arrangement that could be easily rectified.” The headmaster shot him a jovial smile. Severus saw the threat through his act, clear as a day. “You promised to finish the boy’s list before July 31, and I’m holding you to your word. After all, isn’t that why I supplied you with the necessary ingredients in the first place?”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Be careful of what you’re suggesting Albus. I’m not robbing the boy’s precious potion ingredients. I have that much respect left.”

“The stone isn’t something you find in an apothecary.”

The accusation did not surprise him in the least, but it did sting a bit. Especially since, it was he, who was mad at the old man and not the other way around. What Albus was suggesting was outlandish, as rational as it might have seemed to the man himself, Severus had not, not even once thought about pilfering the stone for his own selfish purposes. The stone was safely in its box, where he only took it out once every two days to brew Potter a new batch.

That was it.

“The stone is safe.” He drawled with confidence.

Albus nodded. “And Harry mustn’t know about it. As far as he’s concerned the philosopher’s stone was destroyed once and for all.”
Part of it was, Severus corrected the man in his head. If the stone had retained its full shape then Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel still would have been alive. Only a small shard of the stone was salvaged, Nicolas’ last gift to his old friend. Albus passed it onto Severus with the recipe with strict instructions.

Severus just did as he was told, Potter’s survival counted on him salvaging the small shard with outmost delicacy and sparing as much as he could by making it up with other ingredients that could mimic the stone’s behavior. It wasn’t much, but the potions master tried.

His deadline was July 31. According to his meticulous calculations, that was the exact date the stone would contribute to Harry’s last dose, and that was it.

Albus thought that Potter wouldn’t find out about it, and Severus was positive that the chances were very slim, with Harry’s degenerating condition the boy would hardly care about what was in the potions as long as it kept him on his feet. Severus wasn’t exactly thrilled about having to obtain such a valuable item, but it was essential.

“I will be careful.” He promised.

As soon as the stone was out of the way, and Severus could once more focus his anger on the man, the look of utter disgust, and justified anger took over his expressions once more. He wasn’t done lecturing yet, and Albus, in his last futile attempt to redirect the conversation had failed to distract him with the stone.

Severus wasn’t jesting, and he still wasn’t done with the man.

“You’re rightly mad at me Severus.” Albus deduced the glare Severus was throwing at him.

“More than you could even imagine.” He said through his teeth.

“I don’t know how to make it up to the boy.”

Severus ignored the monotonous regret in Albus’ tone. He had to be methodical about his next move. If he missed even one little detail, his whole strategy would crumple before it could be built into anything decipherable. He paused for a certain amount of time, his arms crossed across his chest and his face stolid.

He had to play his cards just right.

“Kill them,” he told the man nonchalantly. “Punishment isn’t enough. Kill them with your own wand Albus.” he didn’t look into Albus’ face, but he could just imagine that look of mild shock coloring his features. “It shouldn’t be too hard. If Harry dies, then they do not get to live. Give them the ultimate punishment.”

The couch cringed loudly as Albus shifted in his seat. “I don’t have that judgment,” he said. “Neither do you. No matter how close you are to the boy.”
“They’re barely innocent people.” Severus fixated his famous sneer on his face. “Kill them and be done with it and someday, just someday he might forgive you for what you did.”

Albus hummed sagely, his raised eyebrows almost disappearing underneath his ridiculous hat. “I’m not capable of killing Severus. Taking a life…that’s not something you just live down. Harry would not approve at all.”

“You killed Gellert.”

Albus’s reaction was immediate, he tensed, his back straightening as his eyes darkened. “That was different.” He muttered.

Severus cruelly pressed on the open wound in the old man’s gaping chest with a pointed sneer. It was true that Albus knew things about him, things that could easily ruin his life if they came to light…but Severus too, knew enough about the headmaster.

“Was it? The only difference between killing him and them is that you were in love with him. He was a horrible person so you got rid of him. Don’t preach about your innocence Albus. You’re guiltier than you let on.”

Albus’ hand left his beard and he sat up straighter. “Gellert is not the subject at hand here. Severus,” he paused purposefully. “It’s funny how often we forget our boundaries, isn’t it?”
The potion master didn’t let himself feel intimated by the headmaster’s probing gaze, “If you killed the man you loved for causing an uproar, then killing the animals that hurt an innocent boy should be easy.”

“Gellert died in a duel.” Albus said coldly.

“You killed him in a duel.” He corrected the old man. “Those muggles don’t deserve a chance.” Severus sat down in the armchair with practiced indifference. “Get them somewhere discreet, kill them and be done with it. It’s a nice way of venting off every now and then.”

Albus’ demeanor changed in a blink, the old man inspected him with his half-moon spectacles. “What do you gain from me killing the muggles?” he wondered aloud. “Obviously, Harry gains nothing; his life is ending in only a few short months.” He narrowed his eyes. “What do you gain Severus?”

“The satisfaction of seeing you squirm, trying to fix your past mistakes. You left him there with them, now it’s your job to take them out.”

Albus chuckled, his eye closing for a beat before opening, shining with humoring amusement. “Your poetic side is showing.”

Severus got up and walked right to the man. “Call it justice served cold, and get out.” Albus peered up at him but Severus was unrelenting. This was too much exposure. He could only handle Albus’ presence so much before going mad.

“The boy is terrified.” An excuse that didn’t seem far from the truth. Potter must have been panicking the daylight out of himself upstairs.

Dumbledore nodded very slowly. “Very well, I’ll see myself out. Don’t forget to send the exact memories by midnight. I cannot keep the muggles in my office forever.”

“With outmost pleasure.” He couldn’t wait until the headmaster was out of this house. He was worried for the boy.

Albus lingered by the arch that divided the living room from the main hallway. “Here’s one last advice to bear in mind my dear boy, he is not Lily.” He said. “He won’t ever be the girl you loved, but he /will/ leave. Just like she did.”

Severus got up from his seat with thunderous speed, his shoulders broadening as he imposed his full height upon the headmaster.

“Get out Albus,” he seethed, his hands balling into fists by his side.

Albus didn’t falter. “You shall never repeat the same mistake over and over again Severus.” He turned away. “You shall learn from it so it won’t happen the next time.”

“GET OUT!”

“Good day, Severus.” And just like that, he was gone.

Severus stood in the living room for several minutes, in utter silence. He composed himself on his way upstairs, trying to calm his raging heartbeat and wipe the preeminent sneer off his face. The boy didn’t need to see that. In fact, the less Potter knew the better.

The potion master stood behind the only closed door for a beat before knocking.

“Come in,” Potter’s muffled voice called out.

Severus went in, taking in the scene with raised eyebrows. Potter was crouched over his trunk, refolding some of his clothes from the distinguishable heap of clothes that wasn’t there before. The mouse-the pesky goat- was feasting upon the boy’s swimming cap.

“What in merlin’s name are you doing?” Potter dropped the shirt in his hand as he looked up, flushing as Snape narrowed his eyes.

“Um…Packing, sir.”

“You never unpacked,” he pointed out dryly. “Why is there a heap of-” Then he caught Potter’s puffy eyes and his mind went completely blank. He cursed, oh for the love of god…

“Have you been crying?” Harry fidgeted under his gaze, wringing his hands as he avoided Severus’s gaze.

Severus heaved a sigh. He pinched the tip of his nose and closed the door behind him as he fully entered the small room. He ignored the mess Potter had made. He stepped over the clutter and knelt beside the boy.

“Were you crying Harry?"

“No,” Harry said, rather unconvincingly. The boy’s shoulders tensed as he hurriedly picked up his fallen shirt and resumed his dismal folding. Severus reached and took the shirt.

Harry tugged at the garment half-heartedly, his posture frustrated and tensed. Was the boy really that naïve to think that Severus would allow Albus to take him away? Apparently, that was exactly what Harry was thinking, if his swollen face and rigid bearing had anything to say about it.

“Please sir, I need to pack this stuff. I don’t want Professor Dumbledore to wait-.”

“Oh so, you overturned your trunk’s content all over the floor because you didn’t want to delay the headmaster?” Severus meant his voice to be teasing, but to his utter astonishment, the boy looked like he was ready to cry again.

Potter furiously rubbed at his eyes, his breath hitching. “I didn’t-I-I….”

Severus rolled his eyes and dropped Potter’s shirt haphazardly back in the blasted trunk. “Potter, breathe.” He commanded the boy. “Professor Dumbledore is gone. No one is taking you back to Hogwarts.”

Potter’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’. “What? But…but after we did all those things…wasn’t he mad at you? Or upset with me?”

“No, he wasn’t. If anything, he was rather sorry for the inconvenience.” He lied.

They both sat in silence. Severus surveyed the strewn clothes and knickknacks that Potter had carelessly thrown around the room.

“Oh, look at the mess you made child.”

“I’m sorry. I clean these up right away.” the boy said meekly.

“It’s alright. Leave them for now, let’s go tend to your goat and make some dinner.” As an afterthought, he paused. “Bring the goat too.”

“I’m not really hungry sir.” Severus hoisted the boy up by his elbow, guiding him out of the mess he made with a firm grip. Annie was too busy madly squeaking in Potter’s cupped hands.

“Well, too bad that you’re cooking and eating anyway.” He dragged Harry along to the hallway, and let go. Potter fell a few steps behind as they descended the stairs. The child worried his lower lip, and Severus almost felt annoyed. How much reassurance did a fifteen-year-old need? It wasn’t as if he had hidden Dumbledore in a kitchen cupboard.

He knew that making Albus leave rather abruptly, had stirred the boy’s morbid curiosity but for his own peace of mind, and partially the boy’s, he decided not to hint at the severe argument he had had with the old man.

Harry couldn’t afford to live his life with petty burdens such as this one. A lie told in a good cause was not even a lie. It was a blessing.
At least, that’s what he kept telling himself as he woke up with the guilt gripping him every day. Potter’s life span was too fragile to ruin it with ugly truths. Better let the lad die in peace.

He ushered the boy into the kitchen and took Annie the goat in the bathroom to transform her back into a goat, which the blasted thing did not appreciate. Ungrateful beast, Severus glared at her, and she innocuously bleated back at him.

Severus left her to her own devices, and went to join Potter in the kitchen. The boy was already in the process of preparing the ingredients. They had turkey sandwiches, eaten in companionable silence, with sudden intervals as the goat sounded from the living room. She was invisible to them both, as they couldn’t see her by glancing over the counter.

Potter couldn’t stop grinning like a child.

Already up to no good, Severus surmised with resignation.

Annie the goat was chewing on the frayed loveseat as they finally retreated to the living room, and the boy immediately made a beeline for the thing, his eyes pruning as he crouched down to separate her from the cushions.

“I cannot believe we have a goat now.” The boy marveled, his tone sheepish in despite of his embarrassed flush. Severus looked back and forth between the goat and the child and shook his own head.

He was too old for this.

“We can keep her only for a few weeks Potter, since our next destinations pose no threat to her life.”

Potter stopped petting Annie for a beat. “And?”

“Then Molly Weasley will collect Annie and take her to wherever she wants to as you said.”

As he mentioned the woman’s name, Severus noticed an interesting, conflicted expression possess Harry’s face; one of deep fondness, and the other resembling a stab of hurt. A very remarkable mixture, the potion master thought.

“To the burrow, right? Will she come alone?” the boy inquired.

Severus shrugged as he brushed past the goat and to the kitchen. “I’m unaware of her itineraries, as I have yet to write her a letter. Hopefully she accepts to take your goat in.”

“Molly loves animals.” Harry said softly. “I’m sure Annie will have fun with the gnomes.”

Severus stared at Potter with narrowed eyes, somewhat perplexed by the boy’s causal namedropping. It was a rather irritating habit of his, giving himself the permission or rather the power to call an adult twice his size and age by name.

Himself, for instance. The brat had called him by his first name when Dumbledore was just a room away, completely integrated in their hushed conversation. Harry granted the old manipulative man with the perfect lever…the boy himself.

Not an ounce of decorum, or foresight. Yes, the boy didn’t know about Albus’s motives, but they both would have fared better without having Albus know about them being on first name basis.

That deep-rooted aversion in the corner of his mind pointed out the similarity between Harry and his father in that regard treacherously, and a grudging revelation hit Severus; no matter how much of Lily the boy had in him, a large part of James Potter still haunted him. Albus was right.
“Since when do you call Molly Weasley by her name?” he was disgusted by a trickle of scorn that snuck in his tone.

Harry startled by the reproachful tone looked up from the goat, his smile faltering.

“She and Arthur-umm-Mr. Weasley insisted…after the Quidditch World cup incident.”

Severus felt morbidly ashamed of his earlier thoughts. He felt it prudent to chastise himself for his hideous assumptions about the boy. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “Are you very close to the Weasley clan?”

The boy chuckled, looking at him as if he was insane. “Of course I am. What sort of question is that?”

“I’ve never seen you write a single letter addressed to them. The only people you write to are Granger and Madam Pomfrey, and Granger doesn’t even reply.”

Potter tensed up again, and dropped both hands. “Don’t talk about her or Ron.”

“Why?”

“Just don’t.”

What does he write to that girl? It couldn’t be bad enough to disuse her from replying at all. Was he missing something?

“Talking about it helps.” Although, he didn’t necessarily know what Potter needed help with regarding his little friends.

“I cannot bear to look at them or think of them,” Potter snapped. “Or hear their voices. It’s useless.”

“Where is this sudden animosity coming from?”

Harry sighed as he stood, his eyes fixated on the goat. “It’s not hate. I can never hate the two most important people in my life.” He admitted quietly. “I love them. That’s why I’m not thinking of them right now.”

“You lost me completely, Potter. You do not show your love and care for other people by locking them out.”

“Well what would you know about that? You’ve never loved anyone.”

Eyes wide as saucers, and his mouth agape, Harry looked appalled of himself. “I’m sorry.” He blurted out breathlessly, his eyes glazing. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t have. Severus could read his entire thought process just by looking at his face.

‘You’ve never loved anyone’

It wasn’t true. Maybe it was. Severus didn’t know. It stung, that Potter thought that of him, in his subconscious, but it wasn’t untrue. As far as Harry or anyone else for that matter was aware, Severus Snape, the greasy git, the terrifying overlarge bat haunting the dungeons had no heart. He preferred it that way. Fear stimulated obedience far better than respect did.

Even so, hearing the words, hearing an abused boy, like himself, call Severus heartless, incapable of love, stirred something ugly inside him. He had loved, once.

He loved his mother dearly…he loved Lily.

They both left and it was his fault. Albus was right about that there was no denying it. Severus had made his peace with that fact long ago. This shouldn’t have hit him as hard as it did.

Severus turned on his heels. “Don’t go to bed too late.” He told the boy. “I will be in the attic.”

Potter was horror-stricken. “Sir, I-.”

“Save it.” Severus said and strode out of the room.

*

Later that night, after he had acquired Albus’s much needed memories in a vial along with the detailed explanation of what he had seen in the boy’s head etched on parchment, Severus finally dared to come out of his lab. He was exhausted, and quite hungry.

Using the stone always took a lot of energy from him.

He watched from the bottom of the stairs as the boy finished making his fort and laid down among the abundance of pillows. He hesitated but then before he could change his mind, strode into the living room.

Potter was in the process of folding his glasses when he saw the potion master approach. He bolted up in his cot. Severus waved him down.

“Lay down Potter,”

Harry stared at him with large confused eyes, but Severus paid him no mind, he had no idea if what he was about to do was a good idea or not. Unlike his other plans, he hadn’t thought this one through.

He surveyed the fort, and decided to settle down next to Potter’s feet, nearest to the kitchen. They could both hear Annie bleat in the bathroom where she had been locked in for the night.

Blasted goat, he thought distractedly.

He and Harry gazed at each other for a while, before the boy groaned. “Alright I’m sorry,” he sounded miserable and guilt stricken. Severus stared at him.

This isn’t about you. Severus chided himself. This was about the boy, his happiness, his comfort, his life. Severus Snape didn’t matter at all. He was an asset. He could get the job done and he would. After this was done…maybe later, Severus could seat in a dark corner and sulk about it.

“Forget that.” He told Harry. The boy had no filter, and unlike his father, he had a legitimate reason for it. Severus wasn’t going to take offend at every little thing the boy blurted out. “Where’s the Hitchhiker’s guide?” Harry awkwardly sat up and pointed at one of the supporting chairs that the blanket was tied to.

“With my other stuff, under the sweater.”

Severus reached for Potter’s sweater, and sure enough felt the dog-eared book underneath Potter’s clothes. Harry was still sat up, wearily watching him with wide eyes.

“Lie down Potter,” he snapped at the boy, and flipped the book open. “Which page are you at?”

“Um…I’m not sure…fifty? Sixty-five?”

Severus flipped the book accordingly, feeling Harry’s unfocused gaze burning into him, the boy was clearly having difficulty figuring out what Snape was doing here, past midnight when he was just about to sleep.

“For the record, I accept your pathetic attempt at apologizing. I understand that you were overwhelmed,” Severus started and the boy nodded vigorously, his hands fisting the duvet underneath him.

Severus ran a hand upon the printed words, “And also, what you said isn’t true. I loved my mother, very much. I loved your mother too once, when we were young. I’m not sure how I feel about her now, but to assure your doubtlessly wandering mind; no Potter, I’m not heartless.”

“Sir I never thought-.”

He cut the boy off. “As punishment for your insensitive words regarding my personal feelings, I will read a chapter of this book,” he held the book up.

“Every night until it is finished and then choose another to fill in its place. Do you have any objections?”

“Um…No?”

Nodding solemnly “Very well. Now lie back and stop fidgeting.”

Severus stared down at the page for a second, and then back at Potter again, who was watching him with rapt attention and wide eyes-hardly appropriate manner one should have for sleeping-and then back at the book again.

He could tell that Potter was getting restless by the unsettling silence but Severus was busy thinking, he needed the silence, and he was grateful that the brat was insightful enough not to interrupt him.

This book was one of the only ones he had in his possession as a young child, a latent birthday gift his mother had somehow procured for him. Later, he suspected that it was borrowed from the nearest library she could find- and he had read every single page back to back in a way that he suspected anyone else has as a child, and later again in his spare free time in adulthood.

He had the second book too, probably crammed in his library back home or on the floor somewhere. The second one didn’t have as much value as the first one, he bought the second himself a few years back. This one though…this one meant the world to him.

He knew every word. The characters…the dialogue… the story and what it really stood for. Somehow despite all these Severus’ hunger compelled him to misread a word. Then that word set in motion a chain of thoughts that somehow, that late into the night, led Severus to think of ‘The Restaurant at The End of The World’.

The sequel he had bought himself, and skimmed through in a single night. Severus was less proud to admit that the book didn’t hold the same glow as the first one did, not to him, but that still didn’t mean he would forget even a word of it.

It was not a surprise when his brain started connecting dots as soon as he caught the word ‘Oglaroonians’ drifting inside his head as an associated word that naturally came to mind when he thought of the novel. ‘Oglaroonians’ whom lived in the forest of Oglaroon in a nut tree…hmm…Severus ran his fingers along the page.

They had a whole planet to themselves and they only lived in a nut tree because they couldn’t handle the thought of all the vastness and the weirdness the universe contained. For some reason, Severus found that to be hilarious. He still did, to a lesser extent, but that was beside the point.
This book just gave him the best idea ever.

“Say…Potter,” he finally started, ten minutes, causing Harry to startle out of a light slumber.

“Yeah?” the boy fidgeted in his cot.

Severus hummed, weighting the book in his hands as he pressed his lips together. It was a two -hour drive from London to the forest of Dean, it was nearly two in the morning now…he could get Potter to the forest in less than two hours considering the lateness of the hour and the boy could sleep in the car.

“How would you feel if we started your next wish a little early?”

Harry frowned in confusion, his mind clearly muddled with exhaustion. Severus could see the gears turning in the boy’s head.

“Um…camping?”

Severus nodded once. “Yes, I believe that was the fifth? Camping?” he waited for Potter’s confirmation before letting a smirk form on his face. “Did you have a specific place in mind?”

Potter seemed lost on him for a few moments before he gathered his wits about him with a slight shake of his head. “Uh-no. No, I didn’t have any places planned.”

“Splendid, how do you feel about the forest of Dean?”

Blinking owlishly, Harry tiredly shrugged. “I don’t know, sir,”

“Why aren’t you reading me a book?”

Severus got up in one move and dropped the book down at potter. The car would jostle too much in the way and he couldn’t bear a cranky Potter, he mused, but he had just the idea how to make it into an ideal sleeping place.

“Do you mind if I borrow your-.” He gestured at the fort/cot assembly Potter had going. If Harry didn’t seem lost before he definitely was now, the poor boy seemed so baffled, that Severus almost smiled at the expression. Harry slumped down and groaned, the boy looked seconds away from drifting away.

“I want to sleep,” the boy whined, his head dropping.

Severus sighed. “You will. Can you get up on your own and put on some warm clothes?” Potter groaned, his eyes closing. “I bought you another sweater didn’t I? The thick black one?” Severus crouched down to Potter’s level and scrutinized the child.

“What are you talking about?” Potter said, his eyes closed and the potion master sighed again. The boy was too far-gone. No matter, he conceded, he would dress him on the way out.

“Never mind me Potter,” he told the boy as he began the tedious task of gathering pillows and blankets off the floor.

He snagged the car keys on his way out and headed to the yard where the car was parked. He had no experience on handling fussy children on a road-trip, but he knew how to settle Potter in the backseat without him rolling off the seats in his sleep.

He kept the front door open, to ease his commuting. He unlocked the car and opened the backseat doors, both for better access, and air circulation. He dumped the bundled up mattresses and pillows onto the seats.

The potion master surveyed the footrest separating the backseat and the driver’s seat, estimating the height to be accommodating to the bundles he had available in the house. He could fill in the gap, cushion it with the pillows and tuck in some blankets to soften the surface for Potter to sleep with ease.
With a determined nod, he set to work, and started stuffing the beddings into the footrest. He had to return to the house and refill his stock, but Potter didn’t seem to mind, the boy was too groggy to follow Severus with his eyes.

Even Annie’s renewed bleating wasn’t doing a good job of keeping him awake.

After a few trips to the scarce living room and back to the car, Severus was feeling like a fully-fledged parent, expertly fixing the bedding, and baby proofing the sharp edges with blankets and afghans. Potter would sleep like an angel in this car.

As he finished, the potion master locked the car and walked back into the house, first to deal with the blasted goat (charmed back safely to mouse in his made up potion’s lab) and right into the pocket of his trousers.

He drug Potter’s trunk without any strenuous effort, and threw it in the trunk of the car. He shifted the heavy chest until he could find a lid, and then spent five minutes digging around to find Potter’s black sweater.

He muttered under his breath…honestly, the way that boy just crammed his belongings into a heap as if it was trash was appalling. He would indeed have a conversation about the matter with the child later the next day.

With that thought firmly in mind, Severus shrank his own trunk. Again, in his makeshift labs, and then finally headed down to a dosing Potter.
Potter grumbled, and squirmed a bit, but settled as Severus quickly drew the sweater over his head. “Can you walk?”

“Whe’?” Potter mumbled with closed eyes.

Severus took that as a no.

He snaked his arms around the boy’s scrawny shoulders and knees and lifted him in his arms with a heavy sigh. He was not getting any younger, and if Potter was by any means a healthy fifteen year old, the potion master would not have been able to carry him, but alas, Harry weighted almost nothing.
He’d wager a toddler weighted more than the child in his arms and mused the thought in his head as he carried Potter to the car. He needed to keep a careful eye on the boy’s eating habits. He had been so busy these past few days that he had barely thought of it.

The camping trip would rectify that.

“Hnn-.” Potter’s head lolled on the seat.

“Shh, it’s alright. Just go to sleep.” Said Severus before he got in his own seat.

And Potter listened. The boy was out like a light before Severus had even started the car. The potion master gripped the wheel with a satisfied smirk.

“Severus,” he told himself. “You are nailing this.”