Remember Not to Forget by DesertPlanet

Tucked away in a dark corner by the greenhouses was a small bench. Over the years, this hidden alcove had been used by students wanting to hide from the world, have private time with their significant others, or have private time with their study materials. It was also a suitable place for anyone wanting to keep an eye on the students milling around on the lawn just outside the castle proper.

It was here Severus Snape chose to take up residence for the first snow of the season. Looking out over the school grounds at the fresh snow, he couldn’t help but blow a stream of fog out of his mouth. Winter hadn’t always been his favorite time of year, but as he had gotten older he had found joys in it he hadn’t expected to exist.

The silence which fell when there was fresh snow on the ground. The nip of the winter air on his cheeks. The slight burn of the cold air as he breathed in. All of it served to remind him of the fact he was alive, that pain was in life, but that that life could still have beauty.

Quietly opening the book he had brought with him and reheating the thermos of coffee, Severus settled into reading and enjoying the briskness of the air.

He must have been more engrossed in his book than he thought as he was suddenly jolted back to awareness at the sound of another book page being flipped. A book that he was not the one in control of flipping the pages of.

Severus paused for a few moments and looked around. There was no one in the immediate vicinity of his bench he could see, though he did spy a set of footprints walking towards the bench, then turning and walking away from the little alcove.

‘You’re slacking,’ Severus berated himself. ‘It is a good thing this wasn’t an attack or you’d be dead now from your own inattentiveness.’

Severus stood slowly from the bench and peaked around the corner towards where he had heard the sound of pages turning. Sitting along the wall of the castle, just out of sight from where Severus had been sitting, was none other than Harry Potter.

Severus stood there quietly watching as the boy tucked his arms into the sleeves of the oversized jumper he wore and leaned in closer to read his book. The Potter eyesight gene (or curse some would say) had most certainly not skipped a generation, Severus was sad to report. Apparently the Potter stupidity was attached to the same gene as the boy was clearly lacking a cloak or any form of muggle coat.

Severus observed the boy like a hunter watching its prey. What in Merlin’s name was the boy doing out here in the cold without proper attire?

Finally he had enough.

“Potter!” he bellowed. “What are you doing out here dressed like that?!”

Severus smirked as the boy jumped and snapped his book shut. He had obviously not seen the potions master sneaking up on him.

Harry quickly jumped to his feet, cradling the book he held as though it were a life line. He had known the man was there; he had wanted to sit on that very bench to work on his studies. He had been coming out here since the beginning of term. It was quiet and away from other people and he didn’t have to think about the events of the previous year. Or this year.

“Sorry, sir,” Harry mumbled, briefly making eye contact with the professor.

Severus didn’t have to use legilimancy to see the embarrassment in the boy’s eyes. What would Potter have to be embarrassed about?

“That is not an explanation, Potter. Why are you outside without a cloak?”

Harry looked at the ground, cheeks turning bright red. He shouldn’t have come outside, but it was becoming unbearable to be stuck inside any longer. Everyone kept looking at him sideways as though he would snap and murder the school. No one had been down in the chamber with him during the fight against Quirrell, and now they all knew he was a parseltongue. He had heard them whispering about him, about how he had killed Quirrell and was the heir of Slytherin and was now attacking students. He just couldn’t take being around the other students any more.

“I don’t have one any more, sir,” Harry whispered, hugging the book against his body and shivering.

“Then what are you doing outside?” Severus demanded again, snidely.

“Just wanted to be alone,” Harry said even softer, he could feel tears pricking his eyes and his nose starting to run.

“Surely you still have your winter cloak from last year. Or are you too worried your fans will think less of you if you don’t have the newest fashion?” Severus said acidically, looking down his nose at the boy who had bowed his head and now had a white knuckle grasp on the damned book.

“I don’t have any fans!” Harry suddenly shouted, looking up and locking eyes with the professor. “I don’t have a cloak, Dudley destroyed mine from last year by lighting it on fire while I was locked in my room because of a bloody house-elf. I don’t have fans, everyone hates me. Ron thinks something happened to me last year and that I might be going dark. Only Hermione believes me that I don’t know what is going on but that’s it! I have only one friend, one! But she’s stuck in the hospital wing and I can’t stay there with her.”

Severus nearly took a step back at the fury of the boy’s response. Potter was actively pushing memories to the foreground of his mind, causing Severus to be pulled into the swirling mess that was the mind of an emotionally distraught twelve year old. Memories which seemed oddly parallel to his own.

Memories of being thrown into a cupboard under the stairs by the scruff of his neck for doing nothing more than saying a single word out of place. Memories of hiding from the neighborhood bullies, of the house-elf ruining the pudding during dinner, of smelling smoke after his cousin managed to get his hands on his school trunk. Trying to remember what all was in the trunk to replace it, but trying desperately to save the money he had. Being given a wide berth at school as people whispered about him as he walked past, being cornered by unknown assailants and cursed.

Quickly, he backed out of the boy’s memories and looked at P-Harry for what felt like the first time. The golden hue of the boy’s skin he had gotten during Quidditch was gone as the boy had spent more time inside as the weather fouled, leaving him with an almost sallow tone. His eyes had dark circles under them from lack of sleep, a fading bruise could just be seen on his hairline.

This was not James standing in front of him. If anything, the bespeckled child was more of a mirror of himself.

“Potter,” Severus said, tone immediately softening to a more neutral timbre. “Come with me.”

Summoning his things, Severus led the now quiet boy back into the castle and into a small antechamber near the front door that Harry swore had never been there before. Inside there were bags, cloaks, scarves, and every kind of random bit of apparel one could imagine.

“This is the lost and found. These are all items which have been found after the school closes for the summer. Please choose a cloak to wear for the time being until you are able to purchase a replacement.”

Harry looked at him in confusion and disbelief before gently setting down his book on a table by the door and beginning to search through the abandoned clothing for a cloak that would fit him. He also needed a pair of gloves and a hat wouldn’t go amiss, but he didn’t want to push his luck.

Severus looked at the book the boy had put down: Healing Potions: A Beginner’s Guide. Immediately he felt his chest tighten. He, too, had been a second year when he checked out that very book as he began looking for ways to combat the injuries he sustained at home and occasionally at the hands of the Marauders. Not that he would tell Potter that.

After a few minutes of searching, Harry found a cloak his size that wasn’t in too bad of a state of disrepair as well as a pair of mittens which looked as though they were home-made, but were fantastically warm. New possessions in hand, he walked back to the front of the room.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, blushing, surprised Snape of all people had made sure he was equipped properly to go outside.

Severus grunted in response and handed the book back to the boy, who immediately clutched it to his chest again and scurried out the door.

So much had happened and had changed in his life since he had been twelve, he wasn’t surprised at how he had forgotten how different his motivation was then. All that he had been worried about at the time was being accepted by his peers, avoiding Potter and his crew, and avoiding his father when he was home.

It had been a long time since he had been in the position Potter was in, and, even then, he hadn't been under the watchful eye of the entire wizarding world at the time. If he had, would he have tried to reach out to any adults? Probably not.

Sighing, Severus shut the door to the lost and found. He hoped he was wrong in his assumption Potter was anything like his younger self. He knew he couldn’t compromise his position within Slytherin to help the boy if he needed it, but he could at least advocate for the boy from afar. The embarrassment and resignation in the child’s eyes did not suit him well, and Severus had a feeling the boy would have more trying years to come.

As he made his way down to his office, the idea of reading outside having lost its appeal, he mentally shook himself. Had he truly forgotten what it felt like to be in that position? He had tried for so long to block those early memories from his mind, but he seemed to have done too good of a job of it.

Blocking those experiences from his mind had seemed like a good idea, but he needed to remember not to forget them as they were what had shaped him into the man he had become. And he would be damned if he let Lily’s child share his same fate.