Severus rested the sleeping boy against his chest as they exited the empty car of the Express at Hogwarts. He grimaced as the newly acquired dragon plushie that the boy held in a death grip tickled under his chin. He pushed it down, and the boy sighed, scrunching his face, his mouth working in silent protest. Surely Albus would send the groundskeeper to escort them back to the school. Severus did not relish a trek through Hogsmeade burdened with the child and his sundry items, shrunken though they were.
He hadn’t meant to give the boy a reward for his fractious behaviour on the trip to London.
Potter had awoken about an hour into their trip and, as with all children, he soon grew bored with the repetitive scenery outside the window. Severus had ended up sitting the child next to him, his arm bent around him repressively, to still the child’s squirming, whilst he sternly lectured the boy on decorum and proper behaviour. It had done little good, and by the time they had exited the train, the Potion Master’s resolve to take the fresh start that Lily’s letter had promised, was quickly faltering to frustrated doubt.
They exited the station after grabbing a quick bite at a caff that served nothing but sweets, soft drinks, and things fried in lard, and the boy lagged behind. Soon, by necessity, Severus found his hand enclosing a smaller, grubbier hand. He pulled the boy along the teeming streets of London as rapidly as he could. Saturday was apparently a very busy time for the masses to come out and be seen. When they were almost to King’s Cross, Severus felt the boy’s hand slide from his grip. After a panicked moment of searching, he saw the boy’s distinctive cap, an atrocious thing that Severus would soon condemn to the rubbish bin, and he strode angrily to the boy, his own heart thrumming painfully in his chest.
Potter didn’t notice Severus’ ire. He only had eyes for the bright display of toys under the title “Star Wars,” set up in the storefront to entice just such a reaction from young children and dunderheaded adults who collected such things. Severus peered at the cheaply painted bits of plastic, wondering that anyone, even a child, could believe such bunk was valuable.
As he began to draw Potter away from the garish shop front, a memory assailed him of a long ago train ride, and his own, very small hands clutching a toy automobile and an Auror doll. He vaguely remembered playing with them quietly (there was no other way to do so in the presence of his father even then) until they pulled into the station that would ultimately bring them to his grandmum who had settled in Wales after some unknown (to Severus’ young mind) war. He was to stay with her for the summer whilst his father had looked for employment, and his mother took care of her husband. That train ride had been an idyllic time, before the drink and the dole had whittled his father to nothing but impotent fury with fists, and life had beaten-down his mother and stolen her magic. His grandmum had died a year later, and Severus was left to mourn her passing alone amidst the rows and long reproachful silences of his parents. Things had changed that rapidly in his life.
Perhaps it was too much to ask this young child, who obviously knew privation of his own sort, to behave as an adult. “Come, Potter.”
Severus escorted him into the shop his large hand cupped behind Potter’s knobby little head. He bent over the boy, who shrank away, saying, “You may have one thing. Choose it wisely.”
Severus noted the gaping maw and brightened affect of the child before he sidled away from the imposing teacher’s side. In mere moments, the boy returned with a cheaply made plastic ring and pin. Severus took it out of the boy’s hands. “I said to choose wisely. Certainly this thing will be broken in a few moments and our journey will become highly unpleasant, no doubt.”
Not to mention that Severus remembered playing with the same type toy when he was Potter’s age, and having it snatched from his hand and broken to pieces when it came too close to his sot of a father.
The boy scooted down an aisle, wandering further afield. The man behind the counter, who had been following the conversation offered, “If it’s a long holiday you’re on, many parents purchase colours, art pads, and books so that their children have something to do when they tire of their playthings.”
Severus gave a short nod, at once acknowledging the man’s superior knowledge and his sales acumen. He chose a picture book with several male-oriented stories emblazoned with depictions of spotted ponies and red Indians, a small pad of finely grained paper, and a box of coloured pencils that had the distinctive ability to become paints with the addition of water. The boy returned to Severus carrying the ridiculous green and purple dragon. Severus looked at it doubtfully “Aren’t you too old for that?”
The boy shrugged, pulling a face before he hugged the plushie in question to his body. Apparently Potter had made his decision. Severus slipped his mother’s card from his wallet and went to the cashpoint situated in the shop, snidely thinking that since Mum wanted to purchase the boy something, this could be it, thus technically absolving Severus of buying the boy’s good behaviour. He further assuaged the light pricking of guilt he felt at using her scrimped and saved funds, by reminding himself that she had wanted to purchase the brat’s clothing, a much more extravagant expenditure. Thus, Severus, being the dutiful son, had saved her bank account considerably by the purchase of said toys.
Hence, Severus came to stand in the blackened night of Scotland, loaded with scribbled art stuffed into his pockets, and all the accoutrements of travel that had been deemed necessary for one small boy, plus the bits and rags that the boy had brought with him, which Severus had forgotten he had. He sighed as he realised that Hagrid had not been dispatched to aid him. Not wanting to send a Patronus to communicate his need, Severus cast a lightening charm on the boy and began his trek from the station to the school gates.
Severus was fortunate that Rubeus was still making his nightly rounds when they approached the edifice topped by two smug, bronze boars. The half-giant shined his lantern upon them his features softening as he saw Severus’ burden. “Sorry, Perfessor. Dumbledore, ‘e didn’t know when to expect yeh and well, ‘e thought maybe I’d—erm—be too much fer t’poor mite at this point. ”
“Though like as not with t’lad slumberin’, I could’ve helped yeh, no doubt...” Hagrid swung the gates open. “Le’ me take ‘im, Severus.” Rubeus regarded Snape with some amusement. “Interestin’ togs yer wearin’, by th’way.”
Hagrid reached for the boy, easily prising his boneless form from Snape’s arms as Severus countered the spells that had transfigured his ordinary teaching robes into Muggle clothing and the lightening charm on the boy. The groundskeeper frowned as he observed, “T’boy’s a tad light for his size. ‘e’ll need some feedin’ up, no doubt.”
“Possibly,” Severus said with a sour twist of his lips. The boy hadn’t seemed all that light to Severus on their journey uphill through Hogsmeade. Severus surreptitiously stretched his cramping arms, before rubbing his neck muscles. An ache had formed in the back of his skull and down his arms during the walk, due to the jouncing weight of the boy.
Snape trotted to catch up with Rubeus, who at that point was speaking over his shoulder, “Perfessor Dumbledore tol’ me to let you know he wants to see you when you get here. I’ll jus’ take little ‘arry up there for yeh. ‘e says ‘e wants to meet t’lad too.”
Severus, by necessity, let Hagrid take the lead, due to the half-giant’s lengthier stride and Severus’ aching joints after the long journey. It was well after curfew, so no students lingered in the hallways, a situation for which Snape was entirely grateful, since he had to limp to keep from crying out in pain at the ache in his hips and ankles.
With an air of unreality settling upon him, now that his goal was near, he and the Rubeus approached the Headmaster’s keep. The gargoyle stood aside without a password being uttered, after carefully considering Hagrid’s cargo and Snape’s dour face. Severus patted the creature’s head in gratitude as he ascended the revolving steps. He abhorred Albus’ less than dignified passwords, and Severus suspected the Headmaster used the names of sweeties so that he might needle his youngest staff member.
His fingers slipped to his pocket and he fingered the edge of the envelope. He’d had six hours to think of a way to approach the subject of the boy, his resolve not yet firm, and his own lack of confidence in his abilities to raise a child properly seemingly choking off the cool, logical words he usually plied to achieve an aim.
What could Lily have been thinking?
She knew how rough he had lived. She must have known just how inadequate his parenting skills would be due to his upbringing. Eileen Snape’s efforts to ease his lot in life notwithstanding, his youth had been a series of abuses, mishaps, and disasters. His adulthood had been spent in service to the monster who had killed Lily. Had she known that it was he who delivered the prophecy which sealed her family’s fate? More to the point, had she realised he had only cared for her safety when he begged Dumbledore for aid? He was wholly and completely unsuited to raise a child. He would tell Albus nothing of the letter and… what? Let the boy be placed in another situation in which he would be exploited, or worse, treated as a fatted calf awaiting sacrifice?
He touched the letter again, the remaining wisps of magic curling around his fingers, easing the ache in his heart that hadn’t let up since Lily’s death.
Hagrid knocked once and the door swung open. Albus Dumbledore sat behind the imposing headmaster’s desk, still in the same robes he’d worn when Snape had left that morning. “Ah, Severus, I’m pleased to see you made it in one piece.”
The Headmaster’s gaze swept to Potter, who still slept, plushie under his chin, cradled in Hagrid’s arms as if he were an infant. The groundskeeper asked, “Where would you like him, Perfessor?”
Dumbledore quietly transfigured one of the chairs in front of his desk into a small, squishy bed. “That should be adequate.”
“Tea, Severus?” Albus’ customary twinkling attention settled on his employee for a moment before Snape demurred. After bidding Severus to take a seat, Dumbledore asked, “I trust the boy had no cause for alarm?”
“No more than one would expect being dumped on a stranger’s doorstep, Headmaster.” Severus eased himself into the chair next to the transfigured bed. Hagrid let himself out of the room as Severus regarded Potter for a moment before saying dryly, “Certainly when he wakes he’ll be in for a much bigger surprise, this being a magical castle and all.”
“No doubt, Severus.” Dumbledore’s amusement faded as he said, “Now, tell me how this situation arose, my boy.”
Severus related the details, leaving out Eileen’s more colourful descriptions of Albus Dumbledore and Petunia Evans as he did. The mention of the letter seemed to pique the Headmaster’s interest as he interrupted the narrative. “Yes, you mentioned a letter before… did you read it, Severus?”
Now is the time to lie. Now is the time to absolve yourself of the responsibility involved with the care of Potter’s spawn. Deny! Deny! Deny! Severus said in his mind, even as he nodded his head. “I did, Sir.”
“I see,” Albus said with an expectant gleam in his eye. Severus drew the envelope out of his breast pocket, his fingers skimming once again over Lily’s script before he reluctantly handed it to the Headmaster. He waited, stone-faced and grim, while Albus read it. Once the Headmaster finished the letter, he folded it and pushed it back in the envelope before he rose and traversed the room to the mullioned windows that overlooked the Quidditch pitch.
Snape remained impassive, stirring only to cover the boy with a hastily transfigured blanket when Potter’s small frame shivered under the unrelenting chill of the castle’s stone walls. The Muggle clothes that Severus had purchased were obviously ill-suited to the higher latitudes of Hogwarts. Finally Dumbledore said, “As I’m sure you’re aware, blood is a very powerful bonding agent, Severus.”
Severus answered his face poker stiff, “I am indeed aware, Headmaster.”
“Yet, you failed to tell me of this ritual that both you and Lily enacted.” Albus’ tone was unreadable, cool.
“I had… forgotten the incident entirely.” Severus felt skewered by the line of questioning. Had he remembered, would it have made any difference in his actions? He couldn’t say. They had been mere children when they played at being blood siblings.
“Perhaps…, ” Albus began and then paused, his back still to his spy. Dumbledore sighed finally and turned to face Severus. “Forgive me. Something about this situation eludes me. I don’t mean to accuse, Severus.”
Snape inclined his head sharply and then looked towards the boy before saying, “I assure you, Sir, I have no desire to relinquish my various duties for…”
“You are more than the sum of your duties, to me, my boy.” Albus returned to his seat, the lines of his face drawn as he regarded the boy. Finally he said, “We’re obviously going to get nowhere on this conundrum this evening. I’ll instruct the elves to make a room up for Harry…”
“Where will you put Potter that won’t further damage his trust, Albus?” Severus nearly sneered, in spite of the very real concern he felt growing for the boy’s well-being. Lily’s son was no doubt going to cause him no end of headaches, no matter where he was placed.
“Why, I’ll put him in your quarters, of course, Severus.” Albus beamed at his Potions Master. “You’ll remember that at least eight Heads of Slytherin had families, and while most of those rooms have been sealed off, elven magic can access them quite readily.”
“Oh.” Severus’ tone was sour, but he couldn’t deny the thread of elation that wormed through him at the thought of carrying out Lily’s wishes. She had wanted him in her child’s life, after all. Perhaps if she had lived, they might have been able to speak to one another. Maybe she would have seen him as more than the friend who failed her. A pernicious undertone whispered through his blood, Maybe she would have left Potter for you!
Severus stood, scooping the boy in his arms, capturing the blasted plushie under his chin again. The Headmaster dispatched an elf to do his bidding and then stood. “I will meet with you and Harry tomorrow morning at nine. By that time I’ll assume you have told Harry about magic and explained the castle a bit.”
Severus concealed his grimace of displeasure behind the toy. “Of course, Sir.”
Albus smiled, his twinkling eyes gleaming madly in the firelight, “And of course we’ll need to complete a physical for the boy. I’ll let Poppy know when to expect you both.” He gave Severus a deceptively innocent look before saying, “I will expect you to complete a physical as well, Severus… to show the boy there is no need for fear.”
Severus damned Albus Dumbledore to the lowest level of hell. He had been trying to get Severus to see the mediwitch for ages, ever since his pain had become obvious. The devious old bastard had him over a proverbial barrel, and they both knew it. Severus sneered, “No, we wouldn’t want Potter’s spawn to be upset, Albus.”
He swept from the room with his head held high, even as Albus chuckled. For the second time that day, he slammed a door behind him. He was losing his hard-won self-control and all over a boy who still hugged a ridiculous dragon plushie.