When Harry woke up several hours later, he found he had a terrible cramp in his neck. Sleeping upright in a wooden chair was never a good idea. Rubbing his poor neck, Harry looked down to see that his magazine had slipped from his hands and onto the floor. Scowling, still groggy, he leaned over and picked it up.

Sitting back up, the young Gryffindor stretched out his arms before turning his attention to the bed beside him. There, snuggled deep in the hospital blanket, was his hated Potions professor, Severus Snape, sound asleep. The sight melted away all of Harry’s earlier frustration with the other boy as he watched the little professor sleep peacefully. No wonder everyone seemed to be so protective of Snape; he was adorable!

But just as soon as that thought popped up, Harry had to frown. Had he just thought that about Snape? Merlin, Harry had finally gone crazy. Was the world coming to an end? Yet there was something to the little Potions master that inspired a sense of protectiveness…

The little boy rolled over and opened his large, obsidian eyes to behold Harry staring at him. The child bolted upright, as though afraid at getting caught sleeping. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Harry crooned. “You’re all right, Severus. You’re all right. I’m not mad at you. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Watching the child calm himself down hurt Harry’s heart. It was sickening to think that the boy was so jumpy, so terrified because his parents had made him that way. Harry had always thought that parents were an absolute good, the people that protected you and loved you no matter what. Apparently that was not always the case. For just a moment, the teen wondered if Snape ever thought that Harry was lucky, having his parents killed and leaving him orphaned. For Snape, it would have been a blessing!

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Harry apologized gently.

“Not scared,” came an indignant little mutter.

Here, Harry froze. Had Snape just talked? Merlin, it was a miracle! After being tortured for so long with silence, after trying to envoke conversation, the child finally spoke! It surprise Harry so much that he almost fell out of his seat. He had not been expecting Severus to respond to that. Harry had just thought that the little boy would look back down at his hands in embarrassment, or something of the sort. But it appeared that the little Slytherin was feistier than he let on.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized again, but this time with a slight smile on his lips. “I thought you were scared when you jumped up,” he said, trying to nudge the child into saying more. It was nice hearing the little boy’s voice.

“Wasn’t scared,” the child growled again. It seemed that Severus was angry with Harry for accusing him of being scared, but Harry said, just as long as the boy was talking.

Not wanting the conversation to die, Harry shrugged. “Sorry, I just thought that you were, you know?”

“I wasn’t,” the child glared up at the older boy for the first time, and here, the Gryffindor could see bits of the old Snape left.

But just as soon as he had looked up at Harry, Severus seemed to remember his place and quickly looked back down at his hands, as though ashamed he had stood up for himself at all. It actually made Harry feel a bit sick to think that this little kid had not even been allowed to stand up for himself. Was that what Sirius and James had liked about Snape when they had first met him, that the Slytherin did not stand up for himself? And was it when Snape had actually put his foot down that the true hatred began?

It did not sit well with Harry to think of his father and godfather picking on and tormenting his professor, especially seeing now what kind of child Snape had been. Folding his hands on his lap, Harry swallowed his guilt and pushed it aside for later examination. He would think on all that later, when he had time and was away from Severus. Right now he had a little boy to look after.

“Well.” Harry tried to sound lighthearted. “My mistake, Severus. You were just pretending to be surprised, weren’t you? I can see that now.”

Peeking up through his curtain of hair, Severus looked over Harry’s face. The older boy did not seem angry, but he knew that looks could be deceiving. How many times had his father tried to coax him to do or say something only to turn around and hurt him? No, Severus would not be taken by surprise by anyone. He had been disrespectful to this Harry boy and he knew that he should expect a beating— if not right then, then later. Tobias Snape never forgot anything, and Severus was fairly certain that other adults would be the same. And since this older boy looked like he was close to an adult, he would more than likely act the same.

Frowning when the child opted to stay silent, Harry tried to think of something else he could do to pull the little boy out of his shell of shyness. It was obvious that little Snape did not like being scared or accused of it, so what else could he get the boy to talk about? “So, Severus, how did you sleep?” he asked lightly. It was the only thing he could think of at the moment.

The child seemed to completely relapse back into his silence, and Harry almost wanted to stand up and scream in frustration. But what good would that do? It would only scare poor Severus and would more than likely incur the wrath of Madam Pomfrey, and Harry had no desire to be on the wrong end of that witch’s wand. Even though she was a nurse, she could be downright scary at times! Almost as bad as Snape had been as an adult.

“Would you like something to do?” Harry asked at last.

This seemed to finally spark some interest as the little black head looked up. “Like what?” came the quiet question.

Smiling triumphantly, Harry was pleased that he had managed to get Severus to speak again. It was only after his sudden rush of victory that he realized that he didn’t have any idea what to do with the boy at the moment. What did little kids like to do? Not having had many toys or the time to play much when he was little, Harry desperately tried to think of the things he had always wanted to do as a child. “I, um, supposed I could…get you some paper to draw on?” He winced. That wasn’t the best thing in the world, he knew, especially considering neither of the boy’s hands were in the best of shape. But at the child’s firm nod, Harry got up and decided to go to Madam Pomfrey’s office. “I’ll be right back, okay?” he turned around, realizing that he’d have to leave the boy for a moment.

At the timid little nod, Harry gave a comforting smile before he knocked on the witch’s door. When it opened, he went inside to see the medi-witch sitting at her desk. “Mr. Potter! What are you doing? Is Severus all right?”

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Harry held up his hands for peace, not wanting the witch to get up. “I was just wondering if you had some paper and maybe something to write with. Severus wants to draw.”

“Does he?” Pomfrey stood up, her blue eyes wide. “He’s spoken to you?”

“Only a little bit,” Harry nodded. “Not much, really.”

“But what did he say?” the nurse stretched.  

Harry frowned again at the witch before him. “Well, he just repeated to me that he wasn’t scared after I startled him when he woke, and then asked what he could do.” He shrugged once more. “Really nothing much. I don’t think he’s comfortable talking to people much yet.”

“Understandable.” Madam Pomfrey scowled as she gathered a few sheets of parchment, a quill, and some ink. “After what that poor child’s been through I’m surprised that he can speak at all to anyone!”

“Hasn’t he spoken to anyone yet?” Harry asked incredulously. It was odd to think of all the people Severus Snape could have decided to talk to, he had ignored them all and had chosen instead to talk to him, Harry Potter.

The witch handed the student everything necessary for drawing before she went back to her desk to grab some potions and her wand. “No, he hasn’t,” she answered swiftly. “He’s either been so scared or too tired and weak to even say a word!”

Severus’s annoyed “Not scared!” rang in Harry’s ears and he almost found himself giggling out loud. But as angry as Madam Pomfrey seemed to be at the minute, Harry bet that it would not be a very wise decision to laugh just then. She seemed furious about Severus’s injuries and how he had obtained them, and Harry couldn’t argue with her. What had happened to the little boy was despicable, and should never have happened. Harry wondered briefly why no one had helped Severus when he had been young. Surely the neighbors would have seen something?

It was true that none of Harry’s neighbors helped him, but that was just because the Dursleys rarely let him out of the house in an area where people could see him. Had Severus’s parents done the same thing? But then how could Snape have made his neighborhood friend? If Snape’s snarky attitude was any sign, Harry was fairly certain the Potions master would not pick an idiot as a friend, so surely that one friend that Snape had had would have noticed the signs of neglect and abuse? Or perhaps Severus had been very good at covering it all up?

But Harry shook his head and tried to think of something else. It was so strange to think of the Potions master as a scared little child, one that had been beaten. When Harry had first seen Snape his first year, sitting at the head table, he had known that the man had not liked him, but Harry would have never guessed that he and that man had shared a similar childhood. And the first day of Potions class, when Snape had utterly berated and mocked him, Harry still would have never guessed that the man had had such a terrible childhood. Snape always gave off a feeling of power and control, but had it all been a cover-up for how he really felt? Was Severus Snape not really as confident as he always tried to make everyone believe?

“Well…” Harry scratched the back of his neck, thinking. “Thanks for the stuff. I’m sure he’ll like it.”

The teenager turned quickly to leave, not wanting to be caught in another web of Pomfrey’s questions or inquires. Besides, little Snape was probably getting anxious for his return. The little boy was so skittish that Harry was actually concerned with leaving the child alone for any long periods of time.

Returning out of the office, Harry saw that the little boy was simply sitting where he had been, slyly looking up as he followed Harry with his dark gaze. It was a little bit unsettling, Harry realized, but he could not fault the child. After all, if Snape were really six-years-old and he had been mistreated for so long, Harry understood why the boy felt the need to watch everyone. But it still made Harry anxious, because that look reminded him far too much of adult Snape. Yet the teenager found that he didn’t quite hate the adult Snape so much anymore—just in this one regard, as he could understand why the man had always done such a thing.

“So,” Harry smiled over at the little bundle sitting on the bed, “I’ve got some parchment, a quill, and some ink.” Suddenly the older boy had a rather panicked thought when he remembered that Snape must have been mostly Muggle raised. “Can you use a quill?”

Severus crunched up his face, looking slightly disgusted and more than a little offended at the statement. His eyes narrowed a bit, but he nodded his head, looking as though he wanted to say something, but he did not. Again, Harry wondered at the child’s temperament. It was obvious when Severus was scared, but the boy could also look angry or some other offending emotion at the same time. Thinking back on what he had been told of Snape’s past, he wondered if that was part of the reason why his father constantly beat him. And thinking in Tobias Snape’s shoes, Harry wondered if he would not get annoyed with a child that could stand to defy him without words, not giving you a valid reason to punish him other than a look or a feeling.

It was terrible to think of, but at the same time, Harry knew that he must be right. At times, Uncle Vernon either hit him or screamed at him for no real reason, so if he had had a child like Severus, Harry was sure the boy could provoke some sort of violent reaction from him too. Sad that Snape should be blessed with the talent of infuriating others.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized, sitting down. “I didn’t really know how to write with a quill when I first came to Hogwarts.”

The little boy frowned, losing his offended posture and taking on more of a curious air. “Why?” he asked gently, as though if he spoke too loud, he might once again get into trouble.

“Well,” Harry said, smiling down at the boy. “I was raised by Muggles. My mum and dad were killed when I was only a year old and I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle. I didn’t even know that witches and wizards were real until I was eleven.”

Large black eyes widened in surprise, but what caught Harry off guard was the slightest look of envy. Was Severus envying Harry for his parents’ death? It was a morbid thought, but then again, the Gryffindor was starting to learn that Severus Snape was a rather morbid creature, out of habit. Thinking on it again, Harry supposed that if he had been Severus he might have envied himself too. After all, all Snape knew was that his parents were bad people who had hurt him terribly or didn’t care about him. It might even have seemed like a dream come true had such parents disappeared or died. On occasion, Harry found himself wishing the same for the Dursleys… but that was only on very bad days.

“Why didn’t they tell you?” the little Potions master asked carefully.

“Well, you see, my aunt—my mum’s sister— didn’t much care for my mum or the fact that she was a witch,” Harry explained. “So when I came to live with them, she and her family thought that they could make me act like a Muggle, and ‘stop all my freakishness.’”

“Being a wizard doesn’t make you a freak,” Severus said very softly, pain ringing in his voice, but with a resolute determination. Harry could tell that that must have been what life at home had been like for his professor as well under his father. But he was pleased that the child seemed bold enough to resist the temptation of thinking that he really was some sort of freak.

“No. No, it doesn’t,” Harry agreed wholeheartedly, smiling brightly down at the child.

Seeming to become bolder at the confirmation of his statement, Severus nodded as well. “It makes you superior.” His voice was hard.

A scowl replaced Harry’s smile in an instant. All pleasure at seeing that at least Severus was not ashamed of being a wizard drained from Harry at that moment. At such a young age, was Severus already a bigot when it came to Muggles? But that couldn’t be right if he’d made friends with a Muggle in the neighborhood. “Being wizard doesn’t make you better than being Muggle, Severus,” Harry scolded firmly, but gently, not wanting the child to become afraid of him again.

Here, the child looked up into Harry’s face, as though he did not quite understand what the other boy was saying. All his life, Severus had been told two different things: by his father, he was told that he was a freak, and needed to cease his oddity. By his mother, Severus was told that he was a wizard, and that even though he was poor, he was still better than all of the Muggles in the world. But when Severus had asked why, then, his mother had married a Muggle, she had only slapped him across the face and stormed away. It had been one of the few times she had ever hit him that he could remember, but the little boy was always left with the puzzle of whether being wizard was a good thing or a bad thing.

When Severus had first noticed he could make things happen, like move a glass from one end of the table to another without touching it, or jumping up to the top of a tree without having to climb, he found that he liked his magic. A lot. There was a sense of completeness that he felt whenever he felt magic or did magic himself. It filled the darkness of his life with light, and he wanted to embrace it, even though his father was determined to beat it out of him.

Severus did not blame his magic for making his father hate him; rather, he found he liked it more. Even at such a young age, Severus was certain he did not want to be liked by a man like Tobias. His father was disgusting and never did anything but scream, drink, and hit Severus and his mother. The only good thing his father ever did was fall over unconscious or sleep out on the lawn where he couldn’t hurt anyone. Magic was Severus’s only friend, magic made things look not quite as bleak. Magic would make him strong, and Severus very much wanted to be strong, so strong that no one would ever hurt him again!

But when Harry scolded him, Severus felt suddenly ashamed of himself. He had not meant for that to come out quite the way it had. It was just that his mother always stressed to him that he was much better than non-magical folks, and it was the only thing that kept Severus sane at times. When he was kicked out of the house he had to endure the other children’s remarks about what a trashy, poor little rat he was, and how revolted they were at even the sight of him, it hurt. It had really hurt listening to them all, knowing that he could never be like them, and yet never wanting to be like them. It was all so confusing, and sometimes, at night when he was alone, Severus would cry, not knowing what he should be like or how he should act.

“I’m sorry,” the boy whispered quietly, tears welling up in his eyes once more.

Feeling as though he’d just beaten a wounded puppy, Harry felt his heart break once more when he looked down at the little boy. How was it that Snape could completely undo him like this? Harry didn’t know if he should hug the boy or just start crying himself. Severus looked so sad, so alone that it hurt. “It’s all right,” he said gently. “I…I just wanted to make sure you knew Muggles were no worse than wizards,” Harry tried desperately to explain. “Please don’t cry.”

The only question that lingered in Harry’s mind was whether Severus would listen to his words. After all, Tobias was a Muggle, and one that had constantly abused his little wizard son and his wife. In that line of thinking, it really wouldn’t have surprised Harry had Snape hated all Muggles. But then there was the fact that the boy’s mother had never done anything to stop Tobias from harming her son, and had let her husband continue to abuse not only herself, but her son as well. Shouldn’t Severus also hate wizards and witches too? Not for the first time Harry realized that Severus Snape was going to be a very complicated person to figure out, if indeed anyone could figure him out.

Little Snape nodded miserably, as though he had just been punished for some horrible deed. Unlike the older Snape, it appeared that the younger one felt rebukes more keenly. Although Harry had not meant to chastise the little boy, he did realize that it could be useful in teaching the child to listen more to another person’s side of things. When the Potions master was older he never listened at all, even if confronted with a forceful argument. It either took a person Snape truly admired or respected or an argument so compelling that not even Snape could find fault with the logic.

“So,” Harry said, clearing his throat awkwardly, “here’s some parchment.” He laid everything out before the child and grabbed a magazine to read so that the other boy could work on whatever he wanted to in peace.

Harry stared down at his magazine intently, hoping that Severus could easily forget the censure and carry on with his drawing. But even as he told himself this, Harry knew that Severus would not forget it. Indeed, when Severus had been Snape, the Potions master, he had never forgotten anything anyone had ever done to him. Snape and Sirius’s grudges and hatred was proof of that.

After several minutes, peeking up from his magazine—he still had no real idea of what it was about— Harry was pleased to see that Severus had employed himself with some sort of task. The little black-haired boy worked busily, and the only sound was his quill as it moved across the parchment. It was good to know that unlike many other small children, Severus did not find it necessary to pout after getting a scolding. No, Severus seemed to understand that he needed to be reprimanded for his earlier words. Harry could not decide whether that was due to Severus’s severe upbringing or the fact that the boy had been a thirty-five-year-old less than twenty-four hours previously.

“What are you working on?” Harry decided that there was no point in pretending to read anymore.

The child handed over his parchment for Harry to inspect. The older boy saw Severus’s nervousness, but smiled on, trying encourage the child to be more open. But instead of some sort of picture, Harry was surprised to see the alphabet written in a sloppy, childish handwriting.

“Oh,” he frowned, but quickly tried to smile again. “This is very good, Severus,” he praised the boy. “I didn’t know you knew the alphabet.”

The complement seemed to strike the little Snape as an insult once again, but the boy merely nodded, accepting Harry’s words.

If Harry had a knut for all of the times he regretted saying something to little Snape, he knew he’d be pretty well off by now. He always found the worst things to say to the little boy. But it really wasn’t his fault! How on earth was he supposed to know what little kids were like? Sure, he watched first years sometimes, tried to think back on when he had been a little kid, but that wasn’t the same. Severus was not a normal child, was he? There were times when Harry could have sworn he saw the old, mean, bitter Snape instead of a little boy.

“Uh, well, you know, I didn’t really know the alphabet too well when I was your age,” Harry squirmed uncomfortably. Had he known the alphabet at that age? He couldn’t really remember, but it was blatantly obvious that Severus did and Harry was learning that he should not treat this child like other children his age.

Severus looked at Harry again with an odd look on his face, and just from the flash in the dark eyes, Harry got the feeling that the six-year-old thought he was an idiot. That was not the impression that he had wanted to give his former professor. There definitely had to be a bit of the old Snape left in the boy. It suddenly reminded Harry of why he did not like the Potions master.

“I know it now,” Harry added quickly.

The other boy nodded slightly before he looked back at his writing, seeming to remember what Harry had said earlier. “Isn’t it good?” His voice suddenly held concern.

Forgetting his irritation, Harry looked down at the sloppy handwriting again and smiled. It was pretty messy, the strokes not so fluid or smooth, but it was a pretty good attempt for a little kid with injured hands. “It’s fine, Severus.” Harry grinned. “You did just fine.”

The black eyes lit up for the first time since Harry had met the boy, and it made the Gryffindor feel very good. He liked being able to give compliments to a little bloke that desperately needed some encouragement. Perhaps it would help the little boy, or even the man if Severus changed back…

Which got Harry to thinking, when would Snape turn back into Snape? It could, in all likeliness happen in the next minute, or it could take weeks or even months considering no one knew what the Potions master had been brewing when Archer had attacked. Dumbledore would think of what to do with Snape later on though, he always did seem to know what to do.

“Why didn’t you draw a picture?” Harry asked after another moment of studying the jumbled handwriting, trying to figure out if he could make a connection with it to the handwriting he had seen Snape produce as an older wizard.

Severus snapped his eyes back down to his hands. The childlike part of Snape that seemed to come back while the adult side was pushed back. “I can’t draw,” the boy admitted.

Harry was actually a bit surprised. He had never been much good at drawing either, but when he had had the chance to when he was little, he always liked doing it. Weren’t all little kids supposed to think that they were the best artists ever? Apparently not.

“Well…so?” Harry shrugged. “It’s still fun to do.”

The other boy shook his black head stubbornly.

“Sure it is!” Harry smiled. “Who cares if it doesn’t look all that great?…Not that I’m saying your picture wouldn’t look good or anything…I’m just, you know, talking hypothetically.”

The hard obsidian eyes were back and they locked on to Harry’s emerald ones again. Severus simply stared at Harry for what felt like forever to the Gryffindor, and the coldness that could be seen was staggering coming from such a young face. “There’s nothing fun about failure,” he muttered ruefully.

“It’s not a failure if you’re just not good at drawing. It just means that you’re good at other things.” Harry found it odd that he should be speaking so complexly to such a young child. But then again, he had to keep reminding himself that Severus was not an ordinary child. There was still a snarky old Potions master in the boy somewhere, and that was who Harry was talking to at the moment.

It seemed Severus was intrigued by the thought, and cocked his head to the side, much like he had earlier that morning. Harry thought back, trying to remember if he had ever seen Snape do such a thing when he had been older, but he could not recall any instances. Maybe this was just a childhood habit that he grew out of?

The little patient seemed to think on Harry’s words before nodding slowly. Seeing this, Harry decided there was hope left for Severus. If all went well, and a miracle happened, maybe he could even rid Severus of his apparent need for sarcasm or his condescending manner? I can dream, he thought pleasantly to himself.

“Can you draw?”

The question caught Harry off guard and jolted him out of his thoughts. “Huh?” he looked back down at the boy. “No, not really,” he admitted. “I don’t even write all that neatly.”

Pursing his lips together, the little kid stunned Harry by giving the older boy a smile. It was shy and guarded, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Maybe we could practice together?”

Astonished Harry could not help that his eyes widened. There was nothing in the black eyes but a child’s hope, and yet Harry knew that for the boy to be so daring he needed some confidence, which he was either learning or already knew from his adult side. But Harry could not deny that he was delighted that Severus was trusting him so much. After all, the boy did not even remember him, and had not liked him when Severus had been older. “Sure. Okay.” Harry smiled warmly at the boy.

On Severus’s part, he wondered at his own boldness of character during the morning. But there was something about the older boy that Severus found he liked almost instantly. He had tried to distrust Harry, had even done or said some rather… not good things, but still the other boy had not gotten to angry with him and had not hit him once! He couldn’t believe that he trusted Harry, but something in his gut told him that he could trust the older boy. There was just something about those green eyes…

The two sat smiling at each other for only a moment longer when the Floo flared to life and out stepped Albus Dumbledore.