Harry Potter was not accustomed to kindness. Life had never offered him any and when it had, it had been hiding a poisonous consequence. He tried to find joy where he could, tried to find meaning in his living where he was able. Sometimes it took him forgetting that he was Harry Potter, and that happened when he brewed, when he gardened, and when he read or was studying. He buried himself in the work.

Harry Potter was also not accustomed to people worrying over him. At eleven years old, coming to Hogwarts, he’d had a small hope, but it had been crushed pretty quickly. He was awkward, very, very bad with a wand and not socially competent. The few people who had tried to reach out to him had stopped because he’d been so shy that they’d mistaken his nervousness for pride. Not that he’d minded, maybe a few people called him names, but no one had really bothered him all that much, and he got to enjoy reading, learning about magic, and not being around the Dursleys.

Of course, second year had happened with parseltongue, the cases of petrified students and the final straw of Ginny Weasley’s death, and from then on the bullying became pretty much a part of his daily schedule. He just got better at brewing healing potions and avoiding people, he learned to spend more time in the green house and that telling anyone about his treatment lead to worse treatment.

By third year he had sort of figured out how to use charms, but he was still awful at Defense Against the Dark Arts. Most of his Professors were kind enough, but they made no effort to know him and for Harry, an extremely shy and awkward child, that made a large difference. Pomona Sprout had always been kind, but she was pretty busy as head of her house and Harry was given allowance to the greenhouses but not much more.

Fourth year had marked the end of all his hope at Hogwarts. Professor Moody had been so kind, so interested, Harry had never had an adult care about him like that and he had fallen for it. The betrayal, and the intensity of it, had shattered him. The world did not care one smidge about Harry Potter, something Harry had always secretly wondered and now knew to be true.

Sixth year had been even harder than last year. Then everything with Jemima Bell happened. Life just didn’t seem worth it. He’d thought hard about some way he could die which would be useful. Dying in general would be useful. After the experience of foreign anger and otherwise, along with the events of his years at Hogwarts, Harry had spent his fifth year researching and discovering his position of being a horcrux. Harry literally helped keep alive a murderer.

A pathetic and shambled sense of self-worth had collapsed then. Jemima Bell had been the straw which broke the camel’s back, Atlas was going to shrug because the job he’d been doing had been pretty shoddy to start with.

Professor Snape had stopped him, even going so far as to be civil to him. Harry knew it was too good to be true, he’d admired his professor for a long time, being one of the youngest masters of potions made Severus Snape an ideal teacher in Harry’s favorite class. Of course, the man hated him. Harry didn’t hope, not anymore, but he would enjoy the kindness of his professor, no matter the intents, as long as he could. He didn’t see his time in this world being too much longer.



XxX


“Severus,” Albus greeted him with a croaking voice.

The wizard looked old and shrunk, the curse was taking its toll.

“What is young Draco’s progress?”

Severus seated himself in the plump armchair opposite of Albus’ desk.

“He is showing remarkable resourcefulness, the cabinet may be working very soon.”

Albus nodded impartially and Severus felt strangely dissatisfied with the man's lack of emotional response.

“And Harry, does he trust you?”

Severus hesitated. He wouldn’t say trust, but there was something there, a mutual kinship he had not intended on growing, specifically the mutual part. His emotional tete-a-tete with the boy came to mind and the unsettled feeling returned.

“It will be a matter of time,” Severus equivocated.

Albus said nothing for a moment and the soft plop of his peculiar clock in the corner, a round bowl with water dripping in multitudes of color, sounded in solitude. It was Severus who picked the conversation back up.

“What was it, Albus?” He said, half musing, his words coming out in a sharp murmur.

Albus cocked his head, peering at Severus in slight confusion.

“You will have to explain, Severus,” he prompted.

Severus turned his black eyes on Albus, dark with thought and a morbid curiosity.

“The boy, what is it you regret exactly?”

Another silence fell and Severus keenly watched the old wizard, eyes like a predator waiting to strike at whatever Albus betrayed. Albus did not do anything, eyes on his desk and veiled by a cold process of thought. Severus waited impatiently, he wanted to know, he felt an avaricious need bubbling in him. Albus had sinned, and after so many years of the old man holding Severus’ trespasses over his head, Severus would gleefully take what he could.

“When Harry trusts you, and when you trust him,” Albus finally spoke.

Albus lifted his gaze and Severus did flinch back at the cold aura of power and finality. It felt as though those blue eyes were piercing his soul and reading his petty motivations. Severus cast his eyes to the floor, and tried to fight the sudden surge of embarrassment along with his anger at the riddle.

Severus felt that the meeting was at an end and stood.

“If you’ll excuse me, Headmaster,” he said softly, practically running from the room.


XxX


Severus had taken to watching Potter. It was partially from his efforts to win over the boy's trust, but there was a secondary motivation, less understood and far more worrisome to Severus. He wanted to understand Potter, curiosity bubbled in him and he found himself cataloging the boy's actions and characteristics. Something evaded him, something out of reach, it left him with a dull pang in his chest which he didn't understand. Not that the boy was an anomaly, or even particularly complex, he argued. But there was something he was missing.

At this moment he was watching Potter kindly tie a first year's shoe and fix their robes up. The foolish eleven year old Hufflepuff had garnered the attention of their resident squib and was now crying after a severe dressing down.

Potter smiled softly and was calm and kind and patient. The child stopped crying and Potter procured a small enchanted paper elephant, handing it to the child and sending them on their way with some verbal warning or encouragement. For some reason it irked Severus, an itching and unrelenting annoyance which burrowed under his skin.

Why? Potter was reviled by most of the school, ignored by the rest, and yet he smiled and stooped to comforting children. Severus, a man keen on dissecting every piece of information in his life, was a poor examiner of his personal emotions. He acknowledged for a moment that Potter's actions made him feel guilty. The boy was choosing to be good, despite all he'd suffered. Severus had not been capable of that.

He sneered at the thought and crammed it away, furious indignation surfacing and clouding what he knew to be a frank truth which pierced him too much.

Enough Potter watching, he wasted enough time on the boy at the Headmaster's insistence.


XxX


Severus had finally drawn out from the ever reticent Headmaster his plans. A mercy killing used to further their cause, it would of course be called murder. Severus clenched his jaw, glaring at the book he had open in front of him on curse marks. ‘Spare the boy’, Albus had said in reference to Draco Malfoy, ‘spare his innocence’. Severus wanted to spit from fury, spare him, when had Albus ever desired to spare someone? He’d certainly played no kindly guiding hand in Severus’ life after he’d attained the dark mark. Yet Severus knew that his own morality had prompted him to the foolhardy oath with Narcissa.

Severus found that the book was not improving his mood either. Nothing short of removing the afflicted appendage would release someone from the bondage which the dark mark placed over them, that or release by the master. Severus slammed the book shut with a snarl of frustration.

A knock came at his office door. Severus turned his head to the door and scowled. He assumed it was Draco and at this moment he had little patience for the boy.

“Come in,” Severus barked.

The door opened and there was Potter. Severus attempted to school his features into something less unpleasant than the fierce scowl he was currently sporting.

It didn't work very well as Potter, who had come in with a smile on his face, let the corners of his lips fall.

“Potter,” Severus tried to keep his voice somewhat civil.

He wanted to scream at the boy to leave, annoyed by his sudden presence.

“Professor, I’m, is this a bad time?” Potter stuttered, looking anxious.

Severus grit his teeth withholding his desire to tell the boy exactly how he felt about it being a bad time.

“No,” Severus said, sounding wholly unconvincing.

Potter was already starting to back out, hands wrenching at each other.

“I didn't mean, just, Professor Sprout, the actaea arizonica,” Potter stopped his rambling and stared at Severus for a moment before ducking his head and starting to shut the door.

“Wait,” Severus snapped.

The boy flinched to a stop.

“I said 'come in’, did I not?” Severus managed to keep his tone even.

His anger and frustration had eased somewhat at hearing the words ‘actaea arizonica’. He needed that particular plant and Pomona had been struggling to grow them, her green thumb seemingly outdone by the plant’s difficult nature. Potter had entered with a smile, he had been pleased about something, and if Severus was correct, Potter had come to tell Severus of the plant’s successful growth.

Potter falteringly re-entered the room and stood apprehensively in front of Severus’ desk without taking a seat.

“What is it you came for?” Severus spoke bluntly.

Potter swallowed nervously, opened his mouth and then shut it. He took his bag from off his shoulder and started to rummage in it. Procuring a bundle wrapped in brown paper, Potter offered it to Severus.

Severus grabbed it with a raised brow.

“What is this?” He asked, tone still severe from the after effects of his study and his thoughts.

“Actaea arizonica,” Potter replied, head ducked down.

Severus felt pleasantly surprised. His assumption had been correct and his long needed potions ingredient was now available. It was one small load off of his mind.

“How?” Severus asked, tone easing into a more amicable state.

Potter seemed to read Severus’ softening mood and pleasure at the procured potions ingredient.

“Professor Sprout let me take it up, since she wasn't managing it. I wanted to,” Potter explained

Severus blinked, carefully opening the parcel. There was a small quantity of dried and prepared banesberry, the specific species necessary for his work. Severus looked up at Potter.

“There's more, if you need it,” Potter added.

Severus slowly realized that the boy had done this to please him. Had he made that much of a difference to the boy, made that much progress that Potter was jumping to tasks just to satisfy Severus? Severus liked that answer, it bode well for his mission, but a small nagging part of him told him that this was only part of the truth.

“Thank you,” Severus said slowly, eyeing Potter with a small bit of perplexion.

Potter didn't flush with joy at the middling gratitude, wasn't acting as if this action was merely to gain Severus’ favor. Instead he smiled softly and Severus was struck by memories of that same smile, one given when a good deed was done for the sake of doing a good deed. Potter would have done this whether or not Severus thanked him, merely because it was a good, right thing.

Only Lily had ever made him feel humble in a way that didn't make him feel worthless, those moments when she was good for the plain reason that she just was. He had never had that, had always been at the core perpetually selfish, even now. He felt disconcerted to experience that same emotion that had graced him so many years ago. Ducking his head for once, he didn't watch as Potter left the room.

When the door was shut, Severus abruptly stood, the banesberry in hand, and stared at it feeling inexplicably old while youthfully ignorant. He looked to the door and felt the need to walk.


XxX


Potter had another convulsion. Severus wasn't present for it, but Poppy had alerted him, as he'd asked her to if the event were to happen again. Apparently the boy had experienced the episode in his dorms and the Weasley boy, seeing his dorm mate, had brought him to the hospital wing.

Severus was standing to the side of the boy's bed, eyeing the red headed sixth year that was awkwardly explaining the event to Poppy. Severus tried to recall the child's name. He couldn't, but he knew he was the youngest surviving Weasley and was an abysmal brewer.

Finally the boy finished, his details hardly useful to the situation, and left. Poppy had already settled Potter and treated him, yet, as Severus looked at him, he saw small tremors running through the boy.

“He's getting worse,” Poppy sounded furious.

She met Severus’ eyes before casting them away in bitter resignation.

“I've reported it, but Dumbledore has dismissed it, my word means nothing to the Ministry. How am I supposed to help the students?” Poppy shook her head and looked at Severus again.

Her lips pursed and Severus saw that she regretted her free speech. She knew Severus supported the Headmaster's choices and opinions. Severus watched her walk away and felt a small bit of guilt which he swept away with practiced ease.

Poppy now gone, Severus turned to Potter. The boy was unconscious and Severus could smell the lingering scent of vomit mixed with the sharp odours of topical potions. He noted the slight tremble that lingered in the boy’s limbs and the sickly complexion. Poppy said it was getting worse.

Severus let out a sigh and settled into a chair, eyes stuck fast to the boy’s supine figure. Dumbledore never seemed to make any realistic plans when it came to Potter: determining that the boy is going to be an instrument in an unbelievably powerful wizard’s demise, yet not even offering special tutelage or overseeing the child’s studies; asking a man who had some of the worst possible relations with the boy to become his mentor; setting up some ridiculously strenuous and dangerous escapade to destroy horcruxes yet completely ignoring the boy’s health. Potter might not even have healthy enough of a constitution to pursue and eliminate the Dark Lord’s seven lives.

This was without even considering Potter’s mental health, the boy was most assuredly suicidal and extremely timid. How would Potter fare under intense mental and physical duress? Severus had no faith that the boy would fare well and he would be the one stuck having to babysit the child.

It was no time for bitterness, the events spinning by too fast and the Dark Lord ever gaining steady momentum in his campaign, yet Severus felt the descent of the emotion, swift and unforgiving. Abstractly, the boy, if just a boy and considered merely by age and bare circumstance, did not deserve this. Life however never saw fit to heed the ideas of deserving and undeserving.

The boy jerked awake and Severus was met by frantic green eyes which spun around the room before settling on Severus.

“Pr’fess’r?” Potter whispered in confusion.

“Hospital Wing, Potter, you had a seizure,” Severus explained succinctly.

Potter gave a tiny nod.

“Safe?” He asked.

Severus gave a curt nod and Potter’s half delirious gaze turned to the ceiling. He stared at it for a few moments before his eyes shut. Severus watched him fall back asleep before rising. He hesitated, considering his assurance to the boy that it was indeed safe. He was not a liar. Severus sat down and stayed, remaining there until Poppy returned.


XxX


Severus was watching his sixth year class practice a shield spell, currently Potter was facing Ms. Granger, the girl seemingly having warmed to the boy once Severus’ acerbity in the class had waned. It seemed even the brave and courageous Gryffindors had a sense of self-preservation.

Severus was lazily pacing the room, hands clasped behind his back as he watched. Today though, he found that he was keeping a keen eye on Potter. The boy’s attack had been yesterday.

“Potter,” he said.

The boy stiffened and Severus saw the instinctual curl of his shoulders. The rest of the class sort of paused, but at Severus’ biting glare which he shot at them, they continued practicing. Granger stood with her wand in hand appearing anxious and unsure. Severus ignored her and approached Potter.

“Strengthen your stance,” Severus instructed, moving Potter’s forearm up a little and making his arm bend more.

Potter flinched under his touch but Severus ignored it.

“Bend in the knees, feet a little farther apart,” Severus said.

Potter looked at Severus, appearing very apprehensive. Severus leaned in and in a quieter voice added,

“This protects, Potter, it keeps people from harm, remember that and use it.”

Potter gave a nod and Severus stepped back. He watched Potter reattempt the spell, Granger casting a weak rictumsempra. Potter responded with more confidence and the spell was admirable in its effect, causing Granger’s own to rebound and her to hastily dispel it.

Potter glanced at Severus, a small victorious smile filled with gratitude on his face. Severus did not respond, instead turning his head to the rest of his class and continuing his pacing.

The class continued and at its close, Severus summoned Potter. The boy came forward, no longer anxious and fearful. They made their way to Severus’ office, a place which had now become quite familiar to the two. Severus transfigured the chair and desk, and the two settled routinely into their places.

The expected scones and tea arrived and Severus allowed them to sit in a relatively comfortable silence. When they’d both partaken of some tea, he spoke.

“I know I’ve spoken of this before, but I wished to reiterate it so you understand that I have not forgotten nor rescinded it,” Severus said, setting his cup down and looking to Potter.

The boy’s face was inscrutable.

“Occlumency is a difficult art, but it would go far in helping you manage your seizures and other symptoms.”

He waited for Potter’s response.

“Sir, I-” Potter broke off and Severus could see that he was enduring a severe struggle in thought.

“As I had said, the offer has and will continue to stand.”

There were a few moments of silence.

“Yes,” Potter said, “if-if you would.”

Severus inclined his head, not allowing his triumph to show.

“Very well, we should start as soon as possible.”

Potter’s head snapped up, as if he thought Severus meant now.

“I will see when you have time in your schedule, evenings may be best, it is well to rest after exercising your mind so.”

Potter gave another nod looking relieved.

The meeting ended.


XxX


Severus sent an owl to the boy with a time given for the occlumency lesson before glancing anxiously out across the snow laden land which stretched in all directions around the castle. It was early Saturday morning in mid February. The school year was drawing closer and closer to an end, as was his time. Draco was now capable of moving inanimate objects, Albus had had a fainting spell this Wednesday, everything was passing by much too quickly. And still, still, Potter’s trust in him was not yet strong enough for what was to come.

Glancing at the daybreak, the sun’s rays stretching like fingers over the horizon to peep out in timid light, Severus thought of the time. His plans, barely formulated, needed to be laid and developed. Albus had given him leave for the day and he needed to make a visit.

Stepping quickly away from the window where nature seemed to be in a still frame of peace, Severus hurried down the steps. With a few concealment charms, meant to dissuade any curious students, he made his way out and across the grounds. He would be going far enough to aparate. An easy weightless charm had him gliding across the snow leaving only the faintest of imprints upon the fresh layer of powder. He met no one.

Cleared of the wards, Severus drew his wand and apparated.

There was a sudden throng of noise, muted by a closed door. Severus glanced around the little closed shop he’d appeared in before stepping toward the door. He transfigured his clothing to that of a muggle and exited the shop by way of discreet magic.

Outside was a crowd of people milling up and down a grey bricked street. It was surprisingly busy considering the early hour. Severus moved in haste towards a cafe. Stepping inside he barely registered the faint tinkling of the bell as his eyes spotted two familiar figures.

Striding forward he seated himself at the table.

“Narcissa, Lucius,” he greeted.

Both were haggard looking, Narcissa’s face a sickly pale rather than an aristocratic fair coloring she so prized. Both had sunken eyes, disheveled hair and eyes lost to despair.

“Severus, how is our boy, Draco?” Narcissa rasped out, eyes already filling with tears.

“He is advancing well, but I have no faith as to the end of this. I have researched your options, you know of them and they remain unchanged.”

Lucius’ jaw tightened and Severus swore he heard a faint whimper escape the man. Narcissa in turn ducked her head, mouth quibbling.

“Is that the only way?” She whispered desperately.

Severus remained implacably neutral, unable to so overtly betray so much emotion as they did.

“Yes,” he replied honestly.

She gasped and turned into Lucius, tears escaping. The cafe continued on in its quiet murmur of morning jubilation. Muggles poured in and out, coffee and tea along with all kinds of baked confections passing hands in exchange for quid. They were a bubble, by magic, and remained an unseeable scene of pensive desperation.

“Are you willing?” Severus said, addressing Lucius.

The man paled, but for once Severus saw his eyes glisten with determination as he gave a small, stiff nod. For all of Lucius’ many, many shortcomings of moral character no one would ever be able to argue his love of his family.

“Speak it, and then you will swear it,” Severus said, voice sharp.

Lucius flinched but he again nodded his head.

“Yes,” he whispered hoarsely, “yes, anything to keep them safe.”

Severus gave a nod. Lucius’ eyes fell and his jaw worked and Severus saw the glisten of tears, Narcissa still softly sobbing on her husband’s chest. With that same fierce determination Lucius looked up at Severus.

“You will keep them safe?” He asked firmly.

Severus gave a nod.

“By my life,” he answered, wholly serious.

Lucius gave another nod, a tiny form of relief flitting across his face. An absent hand raised to stroke Narcissa’s head and he gave another unaware nod, eyes distant as he stared at the table.

“So long as they’re safe,” Lucius whispered absently.


XxX


Severus had moved or transfigured most of his items in the office to make way for the coming occlumency lesson. Potter should arrive in a few minutes. Unfortunately this office was turning out to be much smaller than his last, no added space allowed for private brewing and definitely not extra space given to potions ingredients. Still, for now it would do.

Looking to the door, Severus stood absently biding the few minutes remaining. Occlumency truly was a difficult art and he greatly wondered if the boy would have any success, even if by the rare chance he had any propensity for the subject.

Last year Albus had voiced concerns over Potter and his connection to the Dark Lord. Albus had thought that the Dark Lord would use this connection, however the boy never showed any signs of this possibility nor did he show any indication that the connection existed. No startling personality changes, no strange dreams --as far as they were aware--, no issues whatsoever. Potter’s fifth year had passed with little excitement, the only devastating blow being toward the end of the year when the attack on the ministry had occurred and students had been devastated by family loss and feelings of insecurity and fear propagated by the return of the Dark Lord.

Severus’ mind wandered to the idea of the repercussions of teaching Potter this particular skill. He hoped it would cement his relationship with the boy, however it was a delicate matter and if he handled it poorly --or even with the smallest misstep in care-- he could destroy what little trust he’d already built.

Lost in thought, Severus almost didn’t hear the soft knock at the door. He invited them in and a moment later the door opened and Potter meekly appeared from around it. The door shut and Severus immediately pointed to the chair opposite of the one he intended on using. Potter sat.

“Good evening,” the boy said quietly, a pleasant smile on his face.

Severus felt a small smile tug irrationally at the corner of his mouth. Potter’s voice was a gentle sound and he was glad to hear that the boy had not been agitated recently by bullying or elsewise. The strange sensation of actually caring about the boy and feeling positively about the boy’s well being disturbed Severus and he nearly shook his head as if to clear away the cobwebs of emotion.

“We haven’t much time and I believe it would be a waste to both of us to dally, so I shall commence immediately.”

Severus waited for Potter to nod in understanding. Severus considered staying standing for his short introduction but decided against it; the action would only serve to heighten the boy’s anxiety.

“If at any time you feel sick, like you will experience a seizure, or any other reasoning you think applicable, inform me and we will stop at once. The point of these lessons are to help mitigate the effects of your condition, not aggravate them. I wish you to be as frank and verbal about your condition as possible.”

Potter gave a nod.

Severus adjusted himself in his seat, drawing his wand.

“I will be using my wand to aid me in entering your mind. It will be uncomfortable, however I will first be just entering, nothing else. We will first start with helping you become aware of the space within your mind, then we will work towards your ability to control this space.”

Severus leaned forward, wand raised.

“Are you ready?” Severus asked, meeting Potter’s green eyes.

The boy looked unsure, but he gave a firm ‘yes’ in reply. Severus adjusted his grip on his wand and waved it.

Severus entered something he could only describe as chaos. The world of Potter’s mind was a flashing, colored mess; lights strobing and no memories to be seen. Severus had never experienced this and he wasn’t sure what to make of it, however he was feeling too discombobulated to even think much on it.

When he’d almost gotten himself adjusted to the strange, fluid feel of mass discord, a feeling of despair crashed over him. It was so deep and so horrible and permeating that he felt his bones vibrating from the emotion. It was replaced by fear just as stark and wholly consuming as the despair. A slew of emotions followed, quick and incredibly violent. All were distinctly foreign

Severus struggled to escape, feeling as though he were drowning. There was no easy exit. Severus’ own desperation swelled within him, nearly reaching panic before he felt his ties cut.

He threw himself from Potter’s mind with all his strength and in the resulting act of magic was sent flying back, toppling back over his chair. Half dazed, Severus quickly gathered his senses.

Rising to his feet, wand clutched in his hand, Severus stared at Potter. The boy was asleep, entire body relaxed and slumped against the chair. He looked relaxed and peaceful. Severus still felt tense, body bristling and nearly on fire from the experience and the lingering sensation of the God-awful emotions. His hands were shaking.

What in Merlin’s name was that? Severus tried to gather his mind, his wits having escaped him. A string of thought, memory from his personal studies, tugged at his struggling mind. Empath, Potter was an empath and the boy had just transferred some very pent up emotions onto Severus. It would explain the boy’s slumped position and Severus’ sudden inability to instantaneously regain emotional control.

Severus stared, ruffled mind readjusting and preening itself back to a semblance of calm. This definitely changed the course of the occlumency lessons and it made Severus reconsider his approach with the boy. As an empath, knowing or unknowing, the boy could feel intent, unless well hidden. Severus had never been so careful around the boy and it made him wonder how many times in the last few months Severus had done something or said something while feeling the complete opposite. It destroyed any false sincerity he’d tried to sell to the boy.

Yet Harry had never acted like he was aware of Severus’ hatred. This was another puzzle, one of now too many which Severus would have to figure out about Potter. Now however wasn’t the time.

Flourishing his wand, Severus transfigured the chair into a bed, the movement barely disturbing Potter. The boy was deeply asleep, no tremor in his limbs and his face clear of all hardship. Severus felt a tug of satisfaction at seeing the boy so peaceful. Once again he batted it to the side. Fixing his desk back to place and everything else aside from the bed, Severus settled himself at his desk. He would wake Potter in a while, for now the boy could rest.

Steepling his fingers, Severus proceeded to assimilate this new knowledge.