The four days remaining in the winter holidays seemed to fly by, at least it seemed that way to Severus.  While Harry still spent most of his days with the Weasley boy, his meals and evenings were passed in the dungeons. 

It was almost like the boy was living there, Snape thought with a dramatic shudder.

They settled into a pattern quite easily.  Every time he returned to the dungeons Potter settled himself in the chair facing his work desk with a shy smile.  Once, Severus even found himself half-smirking back.

He began to ask the boy questions - mostly about his homework - he refused to care about the social life of an 11 year old.  And Harry began helping him with potions.  It was mostly bottling ingredients, as he did not trust the boy with actual potions given his borderline ineptitude in the classroom.

He should have seen in coming, then.  He hadn't, but he should have.  He could read the Dark Lord like a book, but seemingly missed every sign the 11 year old had been throwing at him.

The boy had spent a few nights in the dungeons and so far had made it through without any dreams.  Severus had gone in to check on him and found Harry, as usual, half out of the covers.  So he had carefully, gently even, tucked the boy back in.  Despite Harry's lessening fear he still tended to react badly to being touched unexpectedly.  Every time it happened the potions Master wanted to hunt down those damn muggles, or maybe the student attackers, or hell, why not the lot of them? and have a real party.

He pulled the blankets up over the boy and absent-mindedly brushed a few strands of hair off his brow.  Harry froze, and so did Snape.  But only for a moment, after that the small wizard opened his eyes just enough to recognize his teacher.  Then he leant into the touch and closed his eyes with a soft sigh.

For a time Severus did not know what to do.  He was not a demonstrative man.  There were a few exceptions - Luka being one.  But the boy had not occupied these rooms for several years, and after his death Severus' life had been quite devoid of any affection.

And he preferred it that way, as he had no inclination towards such expressions.  However his body seemed to function independently of his convictions as he continued to run his thin fingers over the child's fringe.  Suddenly he seemed to realize what he was doing and snatched his hand back.  Just before he could turn to leave the room Harry roused again without opening his eyes.  Snape watched as Harry gave the sign for thank-you. 

Now it was the teacher's turn to sigh, as he took hold of the small hand and tucked it back under the blankets.

"Enough with your infernal thanking, child."

Clearly the boy was growing attached to him - proof that the universe had a rather twisted sense of humour.

So yes, he should have seen it coming.

His last night in the dungeons Harry fell asleep in the chair and Severus moved towards him to put him to bed as usual.  Why the boy couldn't just take himself to bed when it was appropriate was beyond him.

Rolling his eyes skyward he moved forward to gather up his student.  However as soon as he touched him, Harry briefly became aware.  He blinked heavily at the pale man, rubbing at his eyes with a fist before reaching up and hooking his small hands around his teacher's neck.
Snape came to a rather quick and frightening realization.  Harry didn't want to be carried; rather he wanted to be picked up.

And unless he wanted to remain bent over while the brat had a strangle hold on him, he had to do just that.

As he did he gave silent thanks that Potter was far lighter and smaller than he ought to be.  He was slightly surprised that a child who had likely never been held in such a manner settled in his arms so naturally.  Knobby legs wrapped around his waist, and his head came to rest on Severus' shoulder.

Reaching up he gently removed the youth's glasses and placed them in a pocket of his robe.  "You are far too old for this Harry."

The young wizard in question appeared to have heard him, and he shook his head sleepily and gripped a piece of the professor's robe.

"Go back to sleep, you will not be dislodged. I will carry you to bed in the silly manner you desire." 

"Eventually" he added.

As soon as Harry fell back asleep the boy seemed to relax even further, all his weight settling against the man who held him.  For the first time since they had met, the child seemed completely unself-conscious.  Severus, however, had no idea what to do.  But he knew someone who might.

He cast imperturbable, and then crouching very carefully he tossed some powder into the floo and hissed "Albus!  I need to speak to you in my quarters please."

Potter began to mewl like a kitten at the heat on his face, and that was all Snape had time to say before stepping back.  It figured that Albus would step through the hearth just as he was wiping the boy's brow.

"What have we here, Severus?"

The Professor spun, though not as fast as he would have liked, to greet the headmaster.

"We," he sneered, "have a problem."

"Everything appears quite tranquil to me."

"It would.  You don't have the Potter spawn clinging to you like a primate!"

"Interesting choice of description.  I dare say that in your place I would be flattered."

"Then you take him!" He did not, however, make a move to pass over his charge.

"It is not me he has chosen, Severus."

Severus laughed a quiet, disbelieving laugh.  "He has chosen me, as you put it, because he is desperate."

"He may be somewhat desperate for affection, but have you ever known him to be anything but discriminating with regards to whom he gives his trust?"

"Oh yes, very discriminating by befriending the first wizarding child he encountered."

"And then he turned away Mr. Malfoy's offer of friendship."

"Your powers of persuasion are hardly getting stronger."

"Whether you admit it or not, I believe you know it's true.  You are panicking because you don't know what to do with the weight of that trust.  You are afraid of it.  Besides which, who is it hurting for Harry to reach out to you?"

"Me."

"Really?  If memory serves, you are the one who agreed to let him stay here."

"Because he so clearly required the sleep!"

"What he needed was somewhere he felt safe." Dumbledore responded, shaking his head as if he had expected a more truthful response; as if Snape clearly knew what that truth was.  "But," the elderly wizard continued, "what I think he needs most right now is to be put to bed."

"Indeed," Severus replied, narrowing his eyes.  "I do believe you were leaving."

Albus couldn't help but chuckle.  Here in front of him were not only the last two people he expected to form a bond, but two of the most contradictory people he had ever met.

Severus, for example, had spent the last several minutes protesting any sort of affection for the boy, yet his body language spoke to the very opposite.  He had Harry in a firm grip with his body turned away slightly, as if to prevent anyone from snatching the boy from his arms.

And Harry, well Harry was remarkable.

"My dear child, you must understand something.  I have been watching Harry at a distance for years; perhaps too much of a distance.  He has always been a strong boy, keeping himself quiet and steady in the face of his relatives, not to mention trying to live up to everyone's expectations here at Hogwart's.

"And I can tell you with the same degree of certitude that I avow your trustworthiness to the ministry, that Harry has never done anything like this before.  He would never allow himself to take such a monumental risk. 

"So I strongly suggest that if you find his need and vulnerability so distasteful, that you make it clear to Harry as soon as possible.   It will be easier for him in the long run."

And with that, he flooed away, leaving the potions teacher speechless.

***

Releasing the imperturbable charm, he settled the boy into bed without thinking.  He had done it so many times at this point that the actions were almost by rote. 

This time was only slightly different in that he had to undo the small hands that gripped the back of his robe.  As he loosened Harry's fingers he kept a careful eye on the boy to ensure he didn't wake up.  Once he had the fingers free, he brought Harry's arms forward to free his neck.

For a moment he just stood and *stared* and tried desperately to block what he was thinking.  He began to recite potions ingredients in his head.

It didn't work, and the thought burst forward, unwanted.

His two hands fit into one of mine!

It was a rather strange and sudden reminder of the fact that Harry was just a child. He had never really given it much thought.  He tended to view the boy as a mini version of his father, or a troublesome student, but never truly as a child - which he was, of course.

Realization seemed to settle in.  Harry was, quite literally, just a little boy.  Severus felt the world fade slightly as he experienced this paradigm shift.  And then he cursed.

He did not want this.  He liked his boundaries and solitude, and yes, even his cold demeanour.  He did not want to make room in his life for an emotionally needy little boy.

Damn it he had done it again!  Why did he keep referring to him that way?  He was Potter, or the brat, or even (with an acceptable level of disdain) the boy -- but certainly not a "little boy".

But he couldn't make the thought go away, especially after he settled Harry into bed and transfigured his pyjamas.  The small whimper Harry gave when he lost contact with his teacher did not help things, and Snape found himself brushing the boy's hair back off his face.

"Hush, child."  And then he dropped his head into his hands with a groan.  Clearly he was too far gone to save himself.

He paced the library, overwhelmed at this sudden level of responsibility.  He had had bonds with students in the past, even informally mentored a few, but those children had all had families, *parents*.  And none of them, to his knowledge, had been hurt like Potter had.

Why did the brat have to choose me to cling to?  I'm hardly appropriate.

The voice in his head said that he was probably the *most* appropriate person for the boy to turn to, but he ignored that voice.  It sounded too much like Albus Dumbledore.

The fact was, he was stuck.  He recognized the type of child Potter was; he had made up his mind and would be stubborn about letting go of what he wanted.

And apparently what he wanted was to insert himself into Severus' life.

So he was stuck with the spawn of James Potter and he was in way over his head.  He had a sinking feeling that this was a critical time period for Potter.  He knew all too well that some young ones turn away from the light if they are continually hurt with no one or nothing for refuge.

Like it or not, Harry had turned to him, and if he wanted to prevent him becoming a Death Eater, or Merlin forbid, another Dark Lord, he had a job to do.