The boy was certainly strange.

The second Severus walked into the room the boy bolted upright. His red eyes were popping out in an animalistic fashion, and he was sweating.

He smelled. Badly. Severus was half way across the room and already he could smell it. It was vile, an odor that had sat on the boy so long that it had taken up elements of all that the child had encountered.

Dirt. Bile. Sweat.

The smell of fear.

Severus knew that he was going to have to be cautious. The child, even if he was a Potter, was obviously terrified. Usually this wouldnt bother Severus, he 'terrified' his students all the time.

But this was different.

He took a few steps forwards, slowly. He was careful to keep himself in full sight of the boy. He wanted to keep his movements as obvious and uncomplicated as possible. He wanted the boy, the terrified child, to feel as in control as he possibly could of the situation.

When he finally reached the child, who was shaking and near hyperventilation, he pulled up a chair. It was best not to invade the childs space, not yet. It was obvious the boy didnt trust him. And he was not going to make that worse if he could help it.

He stopped for a moment. Questioned why he cared. For a minute he was angry that somehow he did. But then he looked at Harry.

This was NOT the way Harry Potter was supposed to be.

This was NOT what he wanted for Lily's son.

Harry was supposed to be spoiled, cocky, not wanting for anything in the world.

Instead. What he was met with, what he could not turn his eyes from, was a totally different child.

And he needed to do something about it.

If not for the boy, then for his mother.

But if he were forced to admit it, if he had to dig deeply down inside of him, he would have to say...

He was doing it for the child too.

...

Harry was terrified. There was a man, a demon, a monster, coming towards him. He was wearing all black and was one of the most frightening looking people he had even seen.

It was the devil come to take him away, to punish him.

He didnt want to go. He was scared. He was so so rotten for being scared when he knew he deserved all that this man could do to him and more, but he was still afraid.

He was selfish and awful and he just couldnt stand it.

He couldnt stand himself.

The man was coming towards him. There was nothing he could do. He was trapped. Why couldnt the man just get it over with? Why was he moving so slowly? Was this part of it? Was he trying to make it go as slowly as possible?

Harry started breathing heavier and heavier. The longer it took the more he was able to imagine all the bad things that he was sure the man was going to do to him.

He knew that feeling comfortable was too good to be true.

He had woken up, just as the man had walked in, and had realized that instead of being on a cloud he was in an ordinary bed.

He supposed that was ok. It probably wouldnt have made sense for him to be on a cloud, but it was still a bit disappointing.

If he were on a cloud, he would be away from everything. If he could feel as good as he did when he believed about the cloud, then he could just float away forever from the world and just be done.

He couldnt stop shaking. He was breathing faster and faster. He was so upset and scared.

But it was time for him to face his sins. This man had come to make sure that he did.

He closed his eyes. He hoped the man would have a little bit of mercy and allow them to stay shut. He didnt want to see. There was so much going on that the ability to shut down one of his sense was an almost overwhelming relief. He didn't want to see.

But he could hear. He heard the man pull something over towards Harry. Harry hoped whatever it was wouldnt hurt too much.

He really wished he could shut his ears too.

The man said something. Harry couldnt hear. He didnt want to hear. The man repeated himself.

His voice was deep but soft. Soothing. Not scary.

But what he said was terrifying.

"Mr. Potter, I think we need to have a discussion".

About what? About what? About what? About what?

Harry needed to know this. He needed to risk it. No matter how bad it was going to be, not knowing was even worse.

He was so tired of being confused all of the time.

So he opened his eyes. He put every ounce of strength into looking at the man.

And what he saw on his face. Was so welcome. So terrifyingly welcome.

That Harry gave the man a hug.

Because what was on his face, on this face of a total stranger, was compassion.

Was concern.

Was hope.

—-

The boy was hugging him.

Severus had to resist every impulse to push him off.

The child had gone from total fear to total relief, and it was simply, bizarre to see.

He wasn't sure what to do.

He wasnt an affectionate man by any means. Albus occasionally hugged him, a death eater from time to time under the height of raised endorphins would give him a casual squeeze, but the last person to hug him with this amount of fierceness...

Was Lily.

And in that moment Severus hated the boy.

Because he knew in that moment, that after that moment, hating this child in any way would no longer be possible.

But it didnt mean he had to hug back.

He couldnt let himself do that.

Not yet.

He couldnt hold on to the boy right now, but that didnt mean the boy wasnt allowed to hold on to him.

The child needed something to hold onto.

...

Harry was so absorbed in this feeling. Everything was so clear. This man was NOT here to hurt him. And it was so infrequently that he was able to know anything for certain that Harry found he just could not let go.

Its not like he hugged people often. But this man, he had looked in his eyes, and he had felt as if the man had understood.

That he cared. That he was concerned. That he was understood.

And right now, that was enough.

Harry, from somewhere deep inside of him, let out a small whisper. One that could barely be heard if one didnt bother to listen.

With all the openness, hope, and trust in the world, Harry managed to whisper two words.

"You understand"

And with that Harry squeezed even harder.

...

Severus did not understand. Not really. Not yet.

He understood that the child was definitely troubled. He understood that this was a serious situation. He understood the child was desperate, afraid, and alone.

He understood that this child could no longer be alone.

But he did not understand this child.

That would take time. That would take a lot of things.

Severus was not sure he would be able to provide them. But as the art teacher before had felt but had been unable to fully do, Severus figured that he had to try.

And to do that. He was going to have to listen.

But not right this second. Not now.

Not until Harry was ready.

Not until he was ready to let go of the comfort that Severus provided, and face whatever had made him feel as if he had to hold on so tight.