Severus returned to the kitchen for more toast. He felt rather pleased with himself. Potter had survived the night without incident, and, while still suffering from influenza, began to look more like young Lily on the couch in her parents’ house and less like some homeless child on the brink of death.
Good.
Lily’s son ... Dumbledore was right, the boy was half Lily’s, and perhaps more than half, from what he knew about the muggles’ research into genetics.
If only ... if only the other parts weren’t Potter.
He had felt resentment towards the boy before he had even met him, but the resemblance to James Potter was uncanny. Shouldn’t be possible, really.
Though strangely, the boy looked more like Lily when he was asleep. Even with his eyes closed. Not that Lily had ever looked like she was asleep. Just ... of course he had seen her sleep, back then, when she had been so sick.
Perhaps, Severus grudgingly admitted to himself, the face wasn’t so very Potter. It was hard to say, really, seeing as there were the glasses and that mop of black hair ...
Speaking of the glasses. Severus walked over to the couch and gently took off the boy’s glasses, put them on the table.
Yes. Without the glasses, the face looked much more like Lily’s.
Problably wouldn’t for much longer, when puberty set in, but for now ... it did make things much easier.
Of course he could have informed Dumbledore, but then ... what? They couldn’t send the Boy-Who-Lived to St. Mungo’s, could they? It wasn’t safe.
And they couldn’t send him to stay with Madam Pomfrey – for all Severus knew, the healer lived in a lovely little cottage with no protective spells on it whatsoever. She didn’t have any enemies, after all.
The boy seemed to be absolutely sure that Dumbledore knew how Petunia was and still decided to send him back there ... and he might be right. Severus knew first hand how ruthless the man could be if he thought something right and good and, well, necessary.
Sirius Black had walked free after the murder attempt. Not only because his expulsion would have meant Dumbledore’s pet werewolf would be exposed but also, as he had explained to Severus many years later, because having the eldest son of a pureblood family in the Order of the Phoenix was more important than some halfblood Slytherin who no one thought would amount to much.
Oh, Dumbledore had worded it much more delicately, but Severus knew that no one had thought him worthy of attention. Had Dumbledore approached him with an offer ... an offer of protection and financial support and getting to be on the side Lily was on ...
Things could have been very different.
Back then, he had not seen it that way. He had truly considered those young Death Eaters his friends. Looked up to Lucius, even.
Yet now ... now he was bitter and cynical and knew that all those warm feelings of affection and trust were something his mind produced to keep him sane. Because he couldn’t have dealt with reality, back then.
Couldn’t have dealt with just pretending to be their friend because to do otherwise would have meant certain death.
He needed one place where he could be safe, where he could study in peace. If he had had enemies in his dormitory or Slytherin common room, he’d have died, sooner or later, from the stress if nothing else.
Lily ... ah, Lily. Her friendship had been true, and so had been his love for her. He had chosen to approach her, back then. Not because he desperately wanted a friend. He had been quite content alone, back then.
No, he had approached her because talking to her was even better than a summer afternoon spent reading a book.
He swallowed, dabbed his eyes with his handkerchief and went to put his cup and dish in the sink.
There was work to do.
*
Harry felt warm and content. He wasn’t hungry, and the thought that, perhaps, he should go to the bathroom, was a rather distant one.
He felt around for his glasses, put them on, and was greeted by a sight that proved beyond all doubt that he was still in this strange dream in which he had fallen asleep: Snape on a stepladder, decorating the walls with garlands of holly.
And not only that, the man was humming softly, a melody Harry recognized as the one of ‘Oh Christmas Tree’
Harry chuckled. He would have to tell his friends about that dream. Snape humming Christmas songs!
The noise drew the attention of Dream-Snape. He turned to look at Harry. “Something funny, Potter?”
It was hard to not laugh out loud. This sounded so much like real Snape, but this wasn’t real Snape, couldn’t be.
“I’m just happy”, Harry explained to the figment of his imagination.
“Oh.” A strange emotion flickered over Dream-Snape’s face. “Good. It is the season for it, after all.” And he went back to his work.
“I so wish this were real”, Harry murmured to himself. He’d wake up, thirsty and hungry, on the library floor, and have to figure out how to survive the next couple of days ... it would be so much nicer if he could just stay here and not worry about a thing.
“What do you mean?” Dream-Snape’s hearing was as acute as that of real Snape, apparently. “What do you want to be real?”
“I’m sorry”, Harry blurted out. He didn’t want to hurt Dream-Snape’s feelings by telling him he wasn’t real.
“What for?”
*
Something was going on. Some typical Potter prank ... or was this a symptom of the illness?
“Um. I ... I’m dreaming”, the boy stuttered. “Not saying that you aren’t real or anything ... but I’m not really here, am I?”
Ah. Hallucinations? Or was the boy well enough to intentionally deceive him? Judging from his temperature, which was rising, though not yet too high, Severus didn’t really think so.
Hallucinations, then. “Why do you think that?”
“I went to sleep in a library.”
“Yes. On the floor, to be precise.”Ah, of course. “You remember that I am a wizard, surely? The ability to apparate, that is, to disappear, and instantly appear in some other place, is rather common. Much like a driver’s license in the muggle world.”
“Yes, but ...”
“I was surprised you managed to sleep through apparition, but you obviously needed the sleep. There is no need to worry. You are really here.”
The boy frowned. “Then who are you?”
“Excuse me?” Please let this be a prank. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t listed memory loss as symptom of Yeti influenza. What had happened to Potter? Had he been hit over the head? Why hadn’t he checked that more thoroughly, there were all sorts of things that could happen to a young boy sleeping in the streets ... “Can you not remember me at all?”
“Well, you look just like Snape.”
Ah, only the fever talking, then. Relief washed over him. “Professor Snape”, he corrected, only mildly annoyed. The boy was delirious, and didn’t know who he was talking to, after all. “And what makes you think I am not Professor Snape?” Damn, of course the boy would wonder why he had so easily been talked into not contacting Dumbledore. Severus knew it wasn’t professional, and there would be a price to pay, later.
“Um. You won’t change if I tell you ... will you?”
“I will not change. Now, do tell me.” He raised an eyebrow.
The boy giggled. “You sound just like him! But, see, Sn- Professor Snape wouldn’t ever help me.”
Severus felt as if the boy had hit him. He swallowed hard. “No? I seem to recall that I prevented you from falling off your broom not so long ago.” Dumbledore had informed him that Quirrell, or the Dark Lord, had spilt that secret.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you”, the boy said hastily. “I wasn’t talking about you. Just ... the Professor Snape I know would have dumped me at the Dursley’s doorstep, or something.”
“Do you not remember? I told you that you could either go to your relatives or stay here. Why did you want to stay here?” The boy was sick, he probably didn’t want to be moved too much, but still ...
“I thought you would have to return me to the library if I said that. I didn’t think you were serious about letting me stay. I mean, the, um, the other Professor Snape hates me.”
The boy’s words sent cold shivers up his spine, and not because he had caught the illness.
Lily’s son didn’t live in her world, the world of sunshine and flowers where the nasty teacher who hated you would make you write lines even though you hadn’t done anything.
He lived in the shadowy darkness Severus himself inhabited, a place where an adult who didn’t like a child would let said child sleep on the floor without a second thought. Lily’s son shouldn’t have to even think such thoughts.
It was tempting ... just let the boy believe it was all a dream ... would make it much easier to be respected again, once back at school ...
On the other hand, the belief this was all just a dream clearly caused the boy some distress. And Madam Pomfrey had been rather clear about a bad emotional state being one of the contributing factors of Yeti influenza.
“I assure you, I am very much real. You have been here since yesterday. Have you ever had a dream that went on for so long?”
“No, but ...”
*
Harry stared at the man. This couldn’t be the real Snape. Not possible. “You made me a hot water bottle”, he finally stated. It was only one of the things that Snape would never do.
“Perhaps”, Dream-Snape said slowly. “It is you who is not real. The real Harry Potter would not mind in the least if he offended someone.”
“That’s not true”, Harry protested. “I’m real and I never want to offend people.” Well, Snape, but Snape had started it. Real Snape, that was. Something occurred to him. “Are there alternative realities in the magical world? Perhaps I’ve been ... switched. And the other Professor Snape will have to deal with your nasty Harry once term starts.” He chuckled. Served real Snape right.
Dream-Snape sighed. “The important thing is that you are here, now, and there is no need to worry. It is all very much real.”
“Thank you, sir. Um. What is that real Harry Potter like? If he’s so bad, and you thought I were him, then why ... why’d you take me here?”
“You were lying on the floor. I had to assume you were injured.”
“Oh. Of course.” Dream-Snape was more like Harry than like real Snape, Harry supposed. He would just help anyone in need. “So, what’s other Harry like?”
“Rude enough to just use my last name without title when talking about me”, Dream-Snape said, and for a moment, he looked just like real Snape.
“I’m sorry”, Harry said hastily. “I didn’t mean to - ”
“Of course you didn’t mean to. You are not at all like that other Harry, aren’t you?”
“Not at all”, Harry agreed.
And just like that, the scowl melted away and Dream-Snape was once again only looking tired.
“May I use the toilet, sir?” Harry asked cautiously, wanting to be sure he hadn’t managed to turn his dream into a nightmare.
“Of course. The question is, can you walk?”
Harry got up, then immediately sat down again.
“I didn’t think so.” And like before, Dream-Snape lifted him onto his shoulder and carried him.
It was really strange, Harry thought while he washed his hands, that this dream had been going on for so long. And that he had to go to the toilet and eat ... well, not really eat, as it turned out.
Dream-Snape was right, it was unusual that dreams went on for so long, and nothing extremely weird had happened yet.
Harry pinched his arm. Ouch! It really did hurt. So perhaps this was real after all, and he wouldn’t wake up on the library floor.
That was ... wonderful, really.
Finally allowing himself to relax, he sank to the floor.
Chapter 5