He really hadn’t thought this whole thing through.

Severus Snape was a very cold person. Everyone who knew him knew that he hated children with a passion and that he was completely justified in that. Especially when it came to the Potter brat who turned out not to be a total brat.

But he had looked at the little boy who seemed to be drowning even in the smallest of robes that had been tailored made for him, whose (almost) infectious smile had faded at the mention of his relatives returning home. Relatives who had abandoned him to go on vacation without him…

Somehow, Severus just couldn’t bring himself to leave Potter with those people. He had seen a child hurting and his traitorous heart had acted without his consent yet again. But why he had thought to bring him back to Hogwarts with him…

Perhaps he had expected Albus to say no. Perhaps he had hoped… To have the knowledge that he would have tried his best but it would be out of his hands, out of his conscience.

Now he had taken in an eleven-year-old boy and he was at a loss as to what to do with him.

He hated the first years. Not only because of their sheer incompetence and general stupidity, but simply because they were such children… Severus didn’t do well with children. He didn’t know how to. They simply existed and he tried to prevent them from killing themselves and ending that existence, but there wasn’t much he could offer outside of that.

It was one of the few areas, the only, really, that Severus did not experience any shame in admitting his lack of perfection. Though it was a rather ridiculous thought, he was a head of house and didn’t even know how to properly deal with children…

To top it all off, the boy truly thought that he, Severus, was nice. Not just nice, but really nice.

It was concerning.

“This is where you shall sleep,” he had told the boy a few days prior, feeling a bit clumsy as he showed him into the guest bedroom. It was nothing, really, but the boy acted as though it was the most gracious thing ever offered to him.

Probably was. A cupboard, for Merlin’s sake…

The boy spent a lot of time in the room while Severus tried to stay in his potions lab. No, he was not hiding… he simply had a lot of important things to tend to, potions to brew, research to do…

Potter really wasn’t a bother, loath as Severus was to admit it. The only time the boy had sought him out in his lab was to ask him about writing a letter to his Muggle friend, and then Severus had to take a few minutes to explain blood status to him as though he were a Muggleborn.

Even then, it hadn’t really been bothersome. It was a good idea to steer the young mind in the right direction. The last thing they needed was the Boy Who Lived to live to become a blood purist Death Eater.

Severus stepped out of his laboratory a bit earlier than usual and took note that the coffee table had been cleared and the guest bedroom door was closed. He’d left the child alone for several hours now, he should probably check on him, right? But he was eleven, and eleven was old enough for children to look after themselves. It wasn’t as though they didn’t live in dorms for months without their parents or any adult to really pay them any mind.

But he was still a child and children got into trouble… they were magnets for such things.

He went over to the spare bedroom door and hesitated only a fraction of a second before knocking. It was immediately answered with a cheerful “Come in!”

Severus pushed the door open and took stock of the room. Potter kept it clean, at least. He was sitting on the bed, school books spread out around him.

“Studying?” Severus questioned, pointing out the obvious. He truly was not qualified for this…

“Yes, sir,” Potter supplied. “I’m not quite so worried now that I know that there are kids who come from Muggle homes like me and won’t know everything that the others do, but I’d still like to try to catch up with the Purebloods.”

Severus nodded. “Good. You would do well to try your best, but don’t fret if you don’t learn everything there is to know in mere weeks. Just remember that blood status does not dictate brain functionality.”

Potter smiled that weird and innocent little smile that Severus had to look away from. “Did you write your letter?” he asked, to change the topic.

“Yes, sir,” Potter said again, reaching out to the nightstand and picking up an envelope. “I have it addressed and all, I just need to take it to the owlery.”

“I will take care of it for you,” Severus said, reaching out for the letter which Potter handed over with only a small amount of resistance. “I have my own correspondence to take care of. What excuse did you use for your disappearance? A school for the gifted?”

“You think I’m gifted, sir?” the brat responded cheekily.

Severus scowled. Potter’s expression cleared.

“I just told him that I was sent to a school for criminal boys,” he said, looking down.

Severus frowned. “You did not have to disparage yourself so.”

Potter shrugged. “It’s believable. My relatives have always threatened to send me there.”

“If you’re certain,” Severus said after an awkward moment of silence, “I’ll take it straight to the owlery.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Very well,” Severus conceded. “Continue your studying. I will return in time for dinner.”

He exited the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He threw on his cloak with his own letters in the pockets before leaving his quarters, looking down at the one envelope as he walked through the dungeon corridors.

Gary Weatherman
21 Magnolia Crescent,
Little Whinging,
SURREY

***

“Are you unwell, Mr. Potter?” Severus finally questioned, growing weary of the silence at dinner.

The boy was acting quite strange, pushing food around on his plate and looking mildly ill.

“No, sir,” Potter murmured. “I’m fine.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Severus said. He hesitated for what felt like a very long moment before reaching out a hand to check the boy’s forehead for a fever. That’s what he intended to do, anyway, but Potter violently flinched away before he could make contact. Severus furrowed his brow as the boy started spewing off apologies.

“Sorry, sir,” he said, cheeks reddening. “I-I didn’t- sorry-”

“It’s quite alright,” Severus said. “I was simply attempting to check your temperature.”

“Oh,” the boy said dumbly, face still red. Severus reached out his hand again, slowly projecting his movements, this time.

He didn’t feel very warm. Still… “Would you like to go on to bed?” Severus asked.

Potter nodded sluggishly. “Yes, sir.”

Severus glanced at the half-empty plate. He didn’t think he would be able to get Potter to eat any more tonight, anyway. “Go and get some rest, then.”

Potter nodded again before retreating to his room.

***

Severus opened his eyes, feeling groggy and wondering what had woken him. He heard a door squeak open. Ah, Potter.

He lifted himself out of bed and pulled on his robe, dreadfully anticipating the mess he was sure to find upon his entry to the living room. It had been a mistake to let his guard down, he should have known that the little miscreant couldn’t go very long without causing trouble. He was a child and he was a Potter, which made for an absolutely lethal combination.

He opened his bedroom door, eyes blinking rapidly as they adjusted to the slightly less dark room. He spotted Potter standing at the open linen closet, standing on the tips of his toes as he attempted to reach for something.

“Potter,” Severus said as he approached. The boy jumped a foot in the air. “What are you doing?”

Potter turned around to look at him, eyes wide in surprise. The flush on his cheeks was visible even in the darkness. Had he developed a fever after all?

“Professor,” the boy said quietly. “I’m sorry for waking you. I just- er- I need to change the sheets.”

Severus stared at him blankly. “Why?”

“They’re um, they’re dirty.”

“Could it not wait until morning? Surely they weren’t so terribly dirty when you went to sleep.”

Potter seemed to be on the verge of tears, now. What on earth was it with this child, why was he always so emotional? And over dirty sheets? Heaven help- oh. Oh.

They continued to stare at one another for a long moment before Severus turned towards the closet and took the sheets down from the top shelf. The child had had no hope of reaching them on his own, try as he might.

Severus paused in the act of handing him the sheets. He might should- Well… Yes. Yes, he should. Probably.

Severus resisted the urge to run a hand over his face and instead placed it on the boy’s shoulder who flinched only a little at the contact. The kid was stiff as a board but allowed himself to be steered in the direction of the guest bedroom.

This was in no way a pleasant experience, but it wasn’t anywhere near as detrimental as Potter was sure to make it. Best to get him calmed down before teary eyes turned to sobs because while Severus could deal with a wet bed well enough, he had no intentions of dealing with a wet-faced eleven-year-old.

“Why don’t you go change into another pair of pajamas?” Severus said as he waved his wand to turn some lights and dry the bed before changing the sheets.

Potter was slow to react but eventually did, going over to the wardrobe and taking something out before hurrying off to the restroom. Severus then allowed himself to sigh. Children… he was not made for this.

Still, he changed the sheets easily enough, managing to feel only slightly disgusted about the whole ordeal. It wasn’t as though Potter had done it on purpose, he had to remind himself. It was unlikely that he had done it on purpose, anyway… It was just one of the little mishaps of children. He did seem a bit old for it, but it wasn’t as though he was the only firstie with such an issue.

He banished the dirty sheets to the laundry room and stood awkwardly, waiting for Potter to return. When he did, he was wearing a ragged nightshirt that came down just above his knees, his arms wrapped around his stomach and face still looking flushed.

“Back to bed,” Severus said, nodding in the direction. Potter scrambled over to it, nightshirt riding up a bit as he did so.

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Where did you get that bruise?” he asked, for there was a large purplish spot on the boy’s thigh.

Potter pulled the covers over himself, looking confused for a moment before realization seemed to hit and his cheeks reddened even more. “Oh, that…”

“Yes, that,” Severus said, getting (more) annoyed. He was most definitely ready to return to his own bed.

“I just bruise easily, sir.”

“I imagine that it would still be caused by something.”

Potter resorted to that infuriating shrugging that children were so very prone to. “I fell. Yesterday, I think.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “And why would you fall on the stone floor here?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Of course.”

“I didn’t!”

"I didn't say that you did," said Severus. "Are you still feeling unwell?"

Potter’s forehead creased at the abrupt change in topic. “Uh… what do you mean?”

“At dinner, you seemed to be ill and went to bed early.”

“Oh, yeah,” Potter said. “I feel better, my stomach just hurt is all.”

Severus frowned. “Then why did you inform me that you were ‘fine’?”

“Because I was.”

“Obviously not,” Severus sighed. “Inform me of the problem next time and I will give you a potion to combat the symptoms.”

“Oh, okay,” Potter offered stupidly.

Severus clenched his jaw but nodded. “Lay down and go back to sleep.”

Potter slid down in the sheets and pulled the covers up to his chin. Severus waved his wand to turn out the lights and was starting to close the door behind him when Potter’s voice spoke again.

“P-professor?”

Severus repressed a sigh, if only for fear of becoming repetitive. “Yes, Mr. Potter?”

“I’m- I’m sorry. About…”

“Do not fret over it, child,” Severus found himself saying in response. “Is this... a recurring issue?”

Potter shot up in bed. “No, sir! Honestly, it- I haven’t-”

“Alright, alright,” Severus said, “calm down and get some rest.”

He heard the sound of the bedding shifting and Severus exited when he was satisfied that he was unlikely to be disturbed again that night.

He returned to his own room, pulled off his robe and collapsed back into bed. He spared a moment to contemplate the boy’s strange behavior over the bruise, but ultimately decided that he was likely telling the truth. He was simply embarrassed about it and all the night’s events, and that was all there was to it.

***

Potter kept sneaking glances his way and Severus sighed, closing his potions journal. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s n-nothing, sir,” he mumbled.

Well obviously it was something, but Severus let it go.

Well he would have, if Potter hadn't kept on giving him the side-eye examination. He’d known that it was a mistake when he chose to read in the living room today in Potter’s company rather than remain in his lab... “What is it?” he snapped.

Potter jumped. “Um- I just, um…”

“Spit it out already!”

“It’s, um, just that you said to tell you if er- my stomach hurts and wellitjustkindadoes.”

Severus lifted a brow. “Do you often experience stomach pain, Mr. Potter?”

Potter seemed to think on it for a moment before shaking his head. “No. Not really. I mean, lately, I guess, but not before I came here.”

Severus huffed a breath. “I do hope that you’re not looking to blame this on your current living arrangements, as they are a vast improvement from the previous.” Potter made to protest but Severus shook his head to shush him before summoning a stomach soother. He handed Potter the potion which he drank before laying down on the couch, hugging his stomach.

Severus frowned. The effects should have been instant. He summoned another vial after a moment. “Try this one.”

Potter sat up to drink it before lying back down. It was a few minutes before he sat up again and announced that he felt much better. “What was that?” he asked.

“A calming draft,” Severus responded. “I believe your stomach issue is simply a side effect of anxiety. Is there anything in particular troubling you at the moment, Mr. Potter?”

“Erm, well, not anymore,” Potter laughed and Severus rolled his eyes.

***

Whether the bed-wetting was or wasn’t a recurring issue before, it most certainly was now.

While a large part of himself was telling him just to put the sheets on a lower shelf and let the boy deal with it himself, Severus possessed quite a bothersome guilty conscience that felt very different about things.

“I-I’m sorry, I w-wet the b-bed again,” Potter stuttered in a whisper.

There was no need for the child to feel ashamed about something that he could not prevent, no matter how aggravating Severus found the whole situation. He was somewhat proud of himself for not once lashing out at him thus far. It was a very impressive feat for him indeed, though it probably greatly helped along by the sight of bright green eyes looking at him with such fear and trust at the same time.

“It is nothing of consequence,” Severus murmured, gently pushing the boy down onto the pillows.

But it was getting to the point where Severus was half-heartedly tucking the child into bed and the thought disturbed him greatly.

“Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would be soo mad,” the boy muttered, eyes drooping shut as he clutched at a teddy bear.

Severus frowned. “Well, I’m not either one of them.”

“I’m glad,” Potter smiled sleepily, curling up on his side.

He nodded, though Potter could not see him. Whether consciously or not, Severus was endeavoring not to be.