For Harry, many things made sense. Like the harder you threw a ball against the ground the higher it would bounce. Some things did not, but he knew someday they would. Like why the older kids at school liked to hold hands all the time. Other things he was sure were mysteries beyond human understanding and would never be found out.

Like how once a year a letter would suddenly appear through the mail slot addressed to his Aunt Petunia. It always looked like a simple normal letter. There was no return address, but there was always a postage stamp and a postmark. The way normal letters had stamps and postmarks. But, for some reason, it always seemed to upset Aunt Petunia, and she couldn’t be bothered to look at him the entire day when it came. Even in the days leading up to the letter’s appearance, Aunt Petunia would be anxious as though she knew when it was coming even though it always came on a different day.

She always read the letters.

Then she would burn them.

Harry very badly wanted to know what was in those letters. And how simple words could provoke such a reaction in his Aunt. A reaction of fear before the letter appeared followed by a rage that even his Uncle Vernon didn’t dare provoke by asking what was in the letter. Dudley was the only one consistently spared. But he didn’t care to ask about the letters.

One year, when he was eight, the letter came on a Saturday, and his Aunt practically threw him in the car and started driving. They drove for hours. She didn’t tell Uncle Vernon or Dudley where she was taking him, and she ignored Harry’s repeated questioning from the back seat.

He tried to snatch the letter off the front passenger’s seat where she’d tossed it by her purse, but she’d smacked his hand away and put it in the glove box so he couldn’t get to it. He’d fallen asleep in the back seat not long after that and didn’t wake up until he heard his Aunt Petunia’s voice screeching at full volume. He’d sat up and looked around only to see his Aunt standing outside a scary-looking house beating on the door and yelling for whoever lived there to open up.

The whole neighborhood looked dark and creepy and dirty, to Harry, and he didn’t recognize where they were. His only clue was a street sign off in the distance that said “Spinners End.”

Eventually, his Aunt gave up. She got back in the car and drove back to Privet Drive. As they drove away, Harry could have sworn he saw the curtains move and a man’s face appear briefly in the window. Aunt Petunia didn’t look back at the house and didn’t say anything to Harry the entire drive back.

Harry decided that the letters were a mystery that was never meant to be solved by anyone. Ever. Only Aunt Petunia and whoever the letters were from would know the secret.

After he got his Hogwarts letter, he didn’t think of the letters to Aunt Petunia again. At least, not until the end of his first year. After they’d gotten off the Hogwarts Express and gone through the gate to King’s Cross.

“You must be Harry’s family!” said Mrs. Weasley.

“In a manner of speaking,” said Uncle Vernon. “Hurry up, boy, we haven’t got all day.” He walked away.

Harry turned back around to say a final goodbye to Ron and Hermione when he heard his Aunt’s screeching voice echo through the station. “Severus!”

Before he knew what was happening, he felt his Aunt grab the back of his shirt, up by his neck, and drag him away from his friends.

Snape was on the train well before the students were allowed to board. He’d found a compartment at the front and locked the doors so none of the students would know he was there. Every year, a teacher rode the train with the students to ensure nothing horrible happened on the train and to make sure no students were left behind unsupervised at the station. It was a fairly simple task, if tedious and time-consuming. Especially if one of the parents was late.

And it was his turn.

Again.

He should know better than to make bets against Minerva McGonagall.

Fortunately, he’d brought the latest issue of his favorite Potions Journals to stave off the boredom. He’d barely made it halfway through when the train stopped and he sighed in annoyance. But he continued reading, waiting for the rush of students to make their way off the train. Once the conductor made sure the compartments were free of students, and about half an hour after the last student disembarked, Snape would step off and do a quick sweep of the station looking for any wayward students. Then he would get back on the train, and return to Hogwarts.

He stood up and stretched his back taking his time before removing his robes revealing simple muggle black pants and a dark grey button-down long-sleeved shirt. He left the robes folded neatly on the compartment seat. He’d be returning to the same compartment in a few minutes. Hopefully, without a forgotten student. Then he could finish his Journal in peace on the journey back to the castle.

He might even indulge in some sweets from the trolly.

Platform 9 ¾ was empty except for the conductors and two families that were chatting happily: Snape made sure to note that their children were with them before walking through the gate onto the Muggle side of the platform. After crossing through the barrier, he paused, scanning the station for students. There weren’t many left and those he did see were with their families. Or the families of friends. He would have to wait a few more minutes and walk around Kings Cross just to make sure, but everything appeared perfectly fine and normal.

Until he heard the long-forgotten voice of Petunia Evans screeching his name.

“Severus!”

“Tuney.” The name slipped from his lips before he could stop it, and he was grateful no one was near enough to hear him say the childhood nickname. His eyes searched the platform until they found the woman in question marching towards him and dragging the confused Potter boy with her. He noticed the Weasleys and the Granger girl watching curiously.

Absolutely wonderful.

He didn’t have time to make sense of the situation before Petunia was standing in front of him and shoving the boy forcefully into him. He was obligated to catch the child, even as he stumbled back slightly from the impact.

“Petunia,” he ground out between clenched teeth. He set the Potter boy aside after he’d regained his balance. He took a step towards the woman and crossed his arms to glare down at her. He opened his mouth to issue some dire, empty, threat, but Petunia was already speaking.

“Oh please,” Petunia rolled her eyes with a derisive scoff. “If you think for even a second that glaring’s going to work on me, you’re even more of an idiot than I remember Severus Tobias Snape.” She hissed the name deliberately enough that his fingers twitched for his wand out of pure instinct. Her sharp eyes caught the movement and she tossed her head back with a scowl. “I very well know that any threat you make about hexing me is nothing more than hot air! Now you’re going to stand there and listen for once instead of hiding behind letters. Letters that you’ll stop sending right now. If I ever receive another letter from you, I’ll write to Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic myself. Explain how I’m being harassed by some… some boy who doesn’t have the courage to face me himself after over a decade.”

Snape cast his eyes about the station. They – well, Petunia’s screaming – was beginning to draw attention from muggle passersby. He half expected (half hoped) for a security guard or PC to approach them at any moment to break up the scene. To make matters worse, the Weasleys were intently focused on what should have been a private conversation; as was the Granger girl and, what he assumed were, her parents who joined the Weasleys to openly stare.

His eyes snapped back to confirm what he’d seen: Molly’s vindictive smirk.

“You and my sister have always been nothing but trouble!” Petunia went on, oblivious to the fact her husband and son were standing behind her. Vernon looked confused and concerned, but clearly, curiosity was preventing him from interrupting. “From the day you two met all you’ve done is torment me. And just when I think I’m finally free of you… you… freaks… she goes and gets herself blown up! Leaves me to raise her abnormal child. And YOU, you arrogant, slimy bastard, have the audacity to check up on him once a year by letter! By LETTER! Without even giving me a way to contact you, in return!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw Potter trying to move away from him and his aunt, not that he could blame the boy. He was tempted to turn and run back through the platform gate to escape himself. It was rather surreal, really, he couldn’t remember ever being so concerned for his own safety because of ‘Tuney’ before. Sure, she’d been his best friend’s older sister and had on numerous occasions gone out of her way to get him and Lily in trouble – with the occasional success – but that was twenty years ago. Even then, he’d never been afraid of her.

Things, apparently, could change. The Petunia that stood before him was not a bratty girl or even a vindictive teenager. She was a fully grown woman, and she was furious. Filled with a righteous rage that Severus simply couldn’t comprehend coming from her of all people.

It was reminiscent of the times Lily was justifiably angry with him, and wanted him to know it.

His hand moved without his conscious input, grabbing the Potter child by the back collar of his shirt and dragging him between himself and the raging Petunia. His grip, while not shaking, was unrelenting and he would deny any accusations thrown at him of using the child as a shield for the rest of his life.

“Don’t even think of trying to give him back to me, Severus!” Petunia snapped, arms crossing stubbornly in front of her. “You care enough to check on him once a year then you can take him!” When he opened his mouth to protest, she plowed onward with a chill creeping into her voice – a cold intimidating tone rising from the once blazing fire. “I don’t care if you detested Lily’s husband or not – though why that matters I don’t know. Clearly, you unnatural abominations have your own depraved way of doing things.”

She continued, her eyes narrowing, “Then again, considering where you came from, dealing with good-for-nothing lowlifes should be second nature to you as you’re the very same. Pathetic, weak. Probably a drunkard like your father.” His hand began to tremble with rising chagrin. But this territory was familiar, and he knew how to respond to this insult. If only Tuney would take a breath and let him. “Take him back to your decrepit hovel of a home. Take him back to Cokeworth and stay there. I never want to see him, or you, again! Do you understand, or do I need to use smaller words so your feeble, pathetic brain can comprehend?”

Silence fell between them for a moment even as the boy between them struggled to break free. Snape’s grip tightened, but keeping the boy from running off and getting abducted was not the primary reason for this action. It was certainly a good excuse, however. If the boy managed to break free and flee as he wanted, if Snape didn’t go after him… well, Dumbledore would be less than pleased and Snape would be left to search all of London for the Boy-Who-Lived. But, no, the primary reason was to keep him from doing something rash enough to send him to Azkaban.

“Petunia –” Snape started to reply, his teeth clenched in anger even as he wanted nothing more than to hex the woman.

“No!” Petunia took another step closer to him, forcing Harry back against his chest and Severus to wonder if he’d lost his ability to be intimidating. “I’m done, Severus. I’ve been done for a very long time with you freaks. I was perfectly happy before you came along. Before you and Lily went to that unnatural freak school of yours. Then, when I finally thought I was rid of the both of you and all of that mess…” Her rage, while not abated, simmered enough that she took a step back. “I’m done, Severus. Take your son. Go back to that miserable little dump you call home. Now. And leave my family alone!”

Severus blinked, had he heard correctly? “My what?”

Petunia rolled her eyes again – as if she were dealing with an irate child – and said slowly, “Your son! Or did you never figure out where babies came from? Honestly, how daft can you be? I knew my sister had a thing for good-for-nothing boys who thought far too highly of themselves, but I honestly thought you could at least do basic maths.”

Severus’ heart pounded in his chest. Fuck… this… Lily said…no… it just… couldn’t. “No.”

“Eloquent as always, but at least you grew out of that horrible accent.”

“You had the same accent, Tuney,” Snape said with his newly found voice. He was fairly sure he meant for the words to sound harsher than they did to make up for the weak comeback.

Petunia stepped closer – even closer than before somehow – oblivious of her nephew (and somehow immune to the glare that sent both students and (new) professors scurrying out of his path). He forced himself not to back away even as she poked his chest with one long, bony finger.

“You listen to me, toerag,” her voice had gone quiet but it was evident her rage was not abated by the fire in her eyes, “I’ll not act as a babysitter for your brat for another minute. I don’t care what you do with him, but I’ll not have him ruining my family any longer. You’ll take him, and you’ll leave my family alone!”

“You can’t—” He began but was cut off immediately by the furious woman whose voice rose in volume once again.

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do!” Her finger pushed against his chest again. “Do you know what I see when I look at you? A pathetic, worthless, spineless little ragamuffin who grew into an even more pathetic man who thinks he can pretend to be something he isn’t.” She gestured to Harry. “He’s just like you.”

With that, Petunia turned on her heel and walked away, taking her son’s hand as she did so while her husband followed soon after.

Snape fully expected the child he was holding onto to try and go after them. To scream and throw a tantrum. To fight against the hold Snape had on him. However, when he glanced at the boy - that he was still holding in front of him like a human shield - Potter was just standing there looking down at his shoes, the tips of his ears burning red. Snape didn’t know if it was from humiliation or anger.

“Bloody fucking hell,” he swore quietly. But before he could consider what to do next a cheery couple moved into his line of sight. The Granger girl – head down in embarrassment – was situated between them. The man – Granger’s father he assumed – cleared his throat before speaking, obviously aware of the awkwardness of the situation.

“You must be Severus Snape! The potions teacher at Hogwarts?” The man speaking reached out a hand. More out of instinct than conscious decision-making, Snape used his free hand to shake the offered hand.

“Hermione’s told us so much about you.” The woman – presumably Mrs. Granger – seemed far calmer than her husband. “It’s good to actually get to meet one of her professors.”

This had to be a nightmare. It must be. Or the Dark Lord returned, killed him, and this was his hell. His eternal punishment for all the horrible things he’d done in service to the Dark Lord. This simply could not be real. First, Petunia screaming at him like they were children all over again, and Granger’s parents having an impromptu parent-teacher conference in an attempt to distract from the catastrophic emotional outburst that was Petunia when she’d finally had enough.

How could he have forgotten Tuney’s anger when pushed too far? They may have been children, but some personality traits only strengthen and become more refined into adulthood.

The Granger woman stopped talking and was clearly waiting for him to say something in reply. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been paying attention to what she was saying. How could he when all he could think about was what Petunia had said and how she had thrust the Potter boy onto him? He was impressed he hadn’t started swearing at them, yet.

“Well, Severus,” Arthur Weasley was suddenly by his side, smiling. Like always. Disgustingly friendly. And possibly Snape’s favorite person in the world at that moment. “I’m sure you need to get Harry back to Hogwarts before the train leaves. Have a good trip.”

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth Snape turned - dragging the Potter boy with him – and stepped back through the barrier not caring if any muggles saw him disappear into a wall. He only just caught Arthur’s suggestion that he send a house elf to The Burrow to pick up Harry’s things. Snape would probably do just that. Along with a bottle of Fire Whiskey for Arthur as thanks for saving him from the Grangers.

He didn’t let go of Harry’s shirt as he pulled him onto the train and into the compartment that he’d previously occupied. Once there he pushed the child down onto the seat, and used his wand to securely lock the compartment door. He couldn’t have the boy wandering off, now. No doubt Petunia’s rejection of the child had caused the blood wards to break. He had no other choice than to protect the stupid boy until they got back to Hogwarts, and he wouldn’t chase the child through the train.

The compartment secure, he turned to his robes and began pulling them on over his muggle attire. He intentionally didn’t look at the eleven-year-old boy whose eyes he could feel following him. Once dressed, he sat down opposite the child and picked up his Potions Journal. Not that he could concentrate on the words, but at least it kept him from looking at the Potter boy.

Lily’s boy.

Damn it all to bloody fucking hell and back.

“Professor?”

He ignored the voice.

“Professor Snape?”

He continued to ignore the voice.

“Professor!”

He turned the page in the journal hoping the boy would take the hint.

“You can’t just ignore me, all the way to Hogwarts!”

Snape decided he would take that as a challenge.