Severus POV
Severus was confused.
It started around a month ago.
He’d first caught sight of the boy while walking through town on one of those grey, drizzling mornings where the clouds hung so low they brushed the tops of buildings. The boy had darted out from behind a narrow alley, a small, birdlike figure shivering in clothes that practically swallowed him whole. The oversized hoodie sagged on his shoulders, the sleeves far too long, hiding his hands as he moved with nervous glances from side to side, as though expecting danger to spring from every corner. Severus watched as the boy approached a stall, hesitating before he asked in a quiet voice if he could help with anything for a few quid.
There was something about the child that sparked an odd feeling of unease in Severus. He seemed so out of place, his pale face looking even paler in the damp morning light, his thin form shrinking into the oversized clothes. The boy looked, Severus thought, like a half-starved rabbit, a creature constantly on edge, ready to flee at the first sign of trouble. And trouble seemed to follow the boy, or perhaps he expected it. Every sound, every movement from the townsfolk, caused him to flinch, his small face tightening in a momentary expression of fear before he’d quickly look down, his face obscured by the hood pulled low over his brow.
The strange thing was no one seemed to know who he was. Severus had asked a few people, quietly, if they’d seen him before. Most shrugged, claiming they didn’t know the boy, didn’t know where he came from. A few mentioned having seen him around town recently, always doing odd jobs, always quick to slip away as soon as he’d earned a pound or two. A ghostly presence who lingered only as long as necessary before disappearing once more.
And then there were the little oddities. Severus wasn’t the only one who noticed. The baker’s wife mentioned that her flour had spilled on the floor without explanation one evening, a cloud of fine white powder covering the tiles, though she swore she’d been careful to close the bag. The elderly gentleman who ran the bookstore complained of strange cold drafts that seemed to appear from nowhere, even when the doors and windows were tightly shut. Whispers started circulating in the town, rumours of “strange happenings.” It was silly, of course, Severus told himself. Coincidences. But as he watched the boy, something about him felt… uncanny.
What bothered Severus most, however, was the boy’s silence. Despite his polite manners and soft-spoken requests for work, he never offered a name. He answered only in the bare minimum, his gaze fixed downward, avoiding eye contact. On a few occasions, Severus had tried to approach him, but every attempt ended the same way, the boy would look up, wide-eyed, and disappear almost before Severus had a chance to speak.
Severus tried to push it from his mind, but memories of his own childhood continued to bubble up unbidden. He remembered the feeling of shrinking away from attention, of hiding bruises beneath baggy clothes, of learning to stay quiet, to fade into the background. There was a sadness to the boy, a sense of isolation that mirrored too closely with his own past. He could almost feel the boy’s fear as if it were a tangible weight in the air, one he himself had carried for too long.
Days turned into weeks, and still, the boy haunted Severus’s thoughts like a spectre refusing to be exorcised. Each fleeting glimpse felt like an uninvited reminder of his own youthful despair, the shadows of the past clawing at him, begging for recognition. The child’s eyes held a depth that suggested untold stories, stories he both longed to hear and dreaded to uncover. Severus would see him running through the streets, collecting odd jobs, always with that same cautious demeanour, that same huddled form. But then, one fateful afternoon, everything changed.
Severus was passing the bakery when he noticed the boy standing near a pile of discarded crates. He was focused, carefully arranging the crates to create a makeshift hiding spot. The sun had broken through the clouds for a moment, casting a warm glow over the scene, and for the first time, Severus could see the boy without his hood.
His heart skipped a beat. The child’s jet-black hair fell in messy waves around his face, catching the light in a way that made it almost shimmer. It was a striking contrast against the pallor of his skin, and in that fleeting moment, Severus was transported back to his own school days, where whispers of the illustrious Black and Potter had haunted his every step. Yet, as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he crushed it down. This child wasn’t them; he was a fragile creature, clearly abused, a stark reminder of what Severus had tried to escape.
But that hair, it stirred something within him, an echo of a past he had spent years trying to bury. The comparison was quick and fleeting, but it lingered. Severus couldn’t help but notice how the boy’s tangled hair bore a certain resemblance to the way James Potter had worn his, wild, untamed, and full of careless youth. The child was a far cry from the legacy of his family, a living testament to the cruelty that had marked Severus’s own early years.
He leaned against the cool stone wall of the bakery, watching as the boy continued to arrange the crates, forming a cocoon of sorts around himself. The effort was almost endearing, and Severus found himself captivated by the child’s determination to create a small sanctuary from the world. Yet, beneath that determination lay a desperate need for safety, an instinctual urge to hide from something more dangerous than the mundane worries of childhood.
Then he saw it. The kid hadn’t been seen for several days, and the absence gnawed at Severus. It was early one morning when the familiar shadow darted through the square. The boy was running, his small frame a blur against the cobblestones, clutching something wrapped in crumpled tissues close to his chest. It was as if he were trying to outrun whatever dark force pursued him.
As the boy drew nearer, Severus’s breath caught in his throat. The hood must have fallen back, for he saw the child’s face clearly for the first time. The moment hung in the air, electric and weighty, as the boy's emerald eyes locked onto his. They were striking, deep and bright, a tone slightly darker than the killing curse and so similar to Lily’s. The resemblance struck Severus like a physical blow, a sudden rush of grief and memory washing over him.
He looked like what Severus had imagined her son to look like. The child possessed a fragile beauty that tugged at the remnants of his heart, a bittersweet reminder of what had been lost. But it wasn’t just the colour of those eyes that rattled Severus, it was the expression within them. There was an innocence, yes, but also an undercurrent of fear and resignation, a soul battered by experiences far beyond its years.
And yet, there was something else lurking in the depths of those emerald orbs, a flicker of defiance that was both inspiring and terrifying. This child was not broken; he was surviving, but the toll of that survival was painfully evident. Severus felt a surge of protectiveness well up inside him, mingling with the echoes of his own childhood.
Before he could process his thoughts or take a step forward, the boy turned sharply, darting down an alleyway and disappearing from sight. Severus’s heart sank. It was as if the moment had slipped through his fingers like sand, and he was left standing there, a mere spectator in a life he longed to touch.
The child had vanished again, just as quickly as he had appeared. Severus felt an ache in his chest, a desperate need to reach out and offer support, a flicker of hope against the darkness that threatened to swallow the boy whole. He considered following him, but he hesitated. There was a line between compassion and intrusion, and he wasn’t sure where that line lay in this case.
Instead, he turned away from the bakery, a decision forming in his mind. He would not let fear dictate his actions any longer. He had spent enough of his life retreating into shadows, too afraid to intervene or to care. If this child, this living embodiment of the past he had tried so hard to forget, needed help, then Severus would find a way to offer it.
He walked through the square, feeling the morning air shift around him, heavy with the promise of change. He resolved to make this a day of action rather than inaction. He would search for the boy, not just to confirm his well-being, but to forge a connection that might one day lead to healing for both of them.
As he navigated the narrow streets, his mind was awash with thoughts of the child’s eyes, those striking emeralds that had turned his world upside down. They were a reminder of a past he could neither escape nor forget, yet they were also a beacon of hope. Perhaps, through this boy, Severus could reclaim a piece of himself long buried under layers of grief and regret.
But where to start? He retraced the boy's usual routes, his heart pounding with anticipation and trepidation. Severus’s mind raced with possibilities as he wandered deeper into the town, searching for any sign of the child. He could envision the boy curled up in a corner, clutching the food he had seen him with, or perhaps hiding behind those crates again, shielding himself from the prying eyes of a world that had only ever shown him cruelty.
His thoughts drifted to the food. Had the child eaten? Was he hungry? The thought sent a pang of urgency through Severus. He could remember the gnawing ache of hunger during his own childhood, the way it felt to scavenge for scraps, to survive day by day.
Finally, he came to a small market near the edge of the square. The stalls were vibrant with fruits and vegetables, colours exploding in the morning light. He approached a vendor, his heart racing, and purchased some food, apples, bread, and cheese, items that could easily be tucked away and offered without drawing too much attention.
With a small bundle in hand, Severus continued his search, feeling a determination rising within him. He had no idea what the future held, but he was resolved to find the boy. Each step resonated with purpose, a rhythmic echo of hope against despair.
As he wandered through the winding streets, he began to notice the details, the way the light filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the cobblestones, the soft murmur of conversations, the occasional laughter of children playing in the distance. But amid the bustle of life around him, Severus felt an emptiness that lingered, an echo of the boy’s solitude.
He searched for hours, moving from alley to alley, asking the occasional passerby if they had seen a small child wandering alone. But the responses were always the same: a shake of the head, a dismissive glance. It was as if the boy were a ghost, a fleeting whisper of a memory that refused to be grasped.
It wasn’t until the next morning that Severus caught sight of the boy again. He spotted him darting across the edge of the market, his small figure weaving through the stalls as if he were part of the very air around him. Severus's heart raced as he recognized the child, and instinctively, he followed.
The boy sprinted down the narrow path that led to the beach, his footsteps light and hurried. Severus quickened his pace, a mix of hope and anxiety propelling him forward. As he neared the sandy shore, he felt the salty breeze brush against his skin, invigorating yet unsettling.
And then he saw it. The child had stopped, standing before a man slumped against a weathered rock. This man was shrouded in an air of dishevelment that spoke of days spent in neglect. His long, dark hair was wild, cascading around his face in untamed curls, a tangled mess that hinted at a past of untold stories. His clothes were ragged and patched, the fabric faded and fraying at the seams as if they had borne witness to too many hardships and too little care.
Severus’s heart clenched as he took in the scene before him. It appeared as though the child had found a worn blanket somewhere and draped it over the man two days prior, offering him a semblance of warmth in this cold, uncaring world. The sight tugged at Severus's heartstrings, the act of kindness highlighting the boy's innocence amid the harshness of reality.
The boy stood before the man, talking animatedly, his small hands gesturing as if he were weaving a tale of adventure or perhaps recounting something mundane. Yet the man, though nodding along, seemed lost in a distant thought, his gaze unfocused and blank. It was as if he were not truly present, his mind wandering to far-off places, leaving the child to speak into the void.
Severus felt a pang of concern for both of them. The boy's earnestness clashed with the man's disengagement, and it was painfully clear that there was more to their story than met the eye. The child's lips moved rapidly, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty, while the man’s responses were little more than mechanical nods, a half-hearted acknowledgment of the boy’s existence.
As Severus drew closer, he could see the boy's expression falter, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features when he realized that the man was not truly listening. The shadows of worry creased the child’s brow, and in that moment, Severus felt an overwhelming urge to intervene, to somehow bridge the gap between them.
He took a hesitant step forward, ready to approach when the boy suddenly turned, sensing a presence nearby. Their eyes met, and Severus felt a jolt of recognition, a silent understanding that passed between them. The boy's eyes were wide, glimmering with a mixture of hope and apprehension, as if he were unsure whether this stranger was a threat or a lifeline.
In that heartbeat, Severus weighed his options. He could retreat, remain a silent observer, or he could step into the light, break the cycle of neglect and despair that surrounded them both. He chose the latter. With careful strides, he approached, determined to offer whatever comfort he could.
“Hey there,” he said softly, his voice steady yet warm, breaking the stillness of the moment. The boy’s gaze shifted to him, surprise washing over his face, and for a brief second, Severus saw the flicker of recognition in the child’s emerald eyes, a spark that hinted at the possibility of trust.
The man looked up, his expression slowly shifting from confusion to wariness as he studied Severus. But Severus focused on the child, kneeling to bring himself closer to the boy’s level. “I saw you out here yesterday,” he continued, “and I wanted to see if you were alright.”
The boy hesitated, uncertainty etching deeper lines on his young face. “I-I’m fine,” he stammered, glancing back at the man who still seemed lost in his own thoughts. But the way his hands fidgeted, and his eyes darted betrayed a different story, a tale of struggles and fears that resonated deeply with Severus.
“Are you sure?” Severus pressed gently. “You look like you could use some company. Or maybe even some food?” He gestured to the small bag he carried, filled with the food he had purchased earlier.
The child’s eyes widened at the mention of food, and Severus saw a flicker of interest as the boy took a tentative step closer. The man beside him remained indifferent, wrapped in his own world, but Severus knew that wasn’t the child’s reality. The boy stood alone in a sea of uncertainty, his spirit fighting against the tide of neglect that sought to drown him.
“I brought some apples and bread,” Severus said, softening his voice even further. “You don’t have to be alone out here, you know.”
The boy hesitated, glancing back at the man as if seeking permission, but the man offered no response. Severus sensed the child’s internal struggle, the desire for connection battling against the fear of rejection.
With a deep breath, Severus extended the bag, hoping to coax the boy into taking a step forward. “I promise I don’t bite. Just a friendly face trying to help.”
Slowly, the boy’s hand reached out, trembling slightly as it closed around the bag. In that moment, Severus felt a wave of warmth wash over him, a connection forming that transcended the barriers of their pasts.
“Thank you,” the boy whispered, his voice barely audible but full of genuine gratitude.
Severus turned and offered the dazed man food, holding out the bag filled with bread and apples. “Here, it’s not much, but I thought you might like something to eat,” he said, trying to draw the man back into the present moment. The man blinked slowly, as if awakening from a deep slumber, his gaze unfocused as he processed Severus’s offer.
For a moment, there was silence. The boy, still clutching the bag, looked between Severus and the man with wide, anxious eyes, sensing the tension hanging in the air. Severus felt a knot tighten in his stomach, worried that the man would reject the gesture altogether, leaving the child to navigate this uncertain space alone.
Finally, the man’s expression shifted. He reached out, hesitantly accepting a piece of bread from the bag, his fingers brushing against Severus's. The touch was electric, sending a ripple of awareness through Severus. He could feel the weight of the man’s past bearing down on him, the scars of long-forgotten battles etched into his very being. It was a burden that mirrored his own, and in that moment, he felt an odd kinship with this stranger, both bound by circumstances beyond their control.
As the man took a bite, the boy’s eyes lit up with a flicker of hope, his demeanour shifting ever so slightly. It was as if the act of sharing food, so simple yet profound, had bridged the gap between their worlds. Severus felt a swell of satisfaction at this small victory; the man’s vacant expression began to fade as he chewed, the mundane act of eating grounding him back into reality.
“Do you feel better?” Severus asked gently, his gaze fixed on the man, watching for any signs of engagement.
The man nodded, albeit slowly, as if he were still awakening from a dream. “Thank you,” he muttered, his voice hoarse but laced with gratitude. It was a sound that resonated deep within Severus, a reminder of the importance of connection in a world that often felt so isolating.
The boy, emboldened by the man’s response, stepped closer, his small frame radiating warmth and curiosity. “What’s your name?” he asked, his tone brightening as he regarded Severus with innocent enthusiasm.
“Severus,” he replied, offering a small smile. “And what about you two? I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“I’m Harry,” the boy said eagerly, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “And this is… um, well, I don’t know his name. But he’s nice.”
The declaration struck Severus to his core. This was Harry Potter, not the revered saviour the world had come to idolize, not the child destined to confront darkness, but a malnourished boy who wore the shadows of his life as heavily as he wore those oversized clothes. Here stood the embodiment of innocence, someone who had somehow retained the capacity for kindness amidst his apparent suffering. This was not Lily's child, the radiant beacon of hope Albus Dumbledore had assured would be safe in the hands of others. No, this was a child lost, a boy whose well-being had been deemed expendable in the eyes of those who were meant to protect him. Severus's heart ached at the boy’s simplicity, the way he spoke without hesitation, treating the man with a tenderness that felt foreign to Severus himself.
That tenderness was stark in contrast to the lives Severus and Harry had lived. Where Severus had learned to tread carefully, to mask his emotions, and to fade into the background of his own existence, Harry shone brightly, even if it was under a cloak of hurt. The juxtaposition pulled at Severus’s heartstrings. It was a testament to Harry’s spirit, an embodiment of resilience that Severus had long since lost in the shadows of his own life.
He couldn't help but think back to his own childhood, an existence filled with neglect and disdain, where kindness was a distant memory. He thought of the coldness he had endured, the sharp edges of words meant to wound, and the feeling of being unseen, like a ghost haunting the periphery of someone else's life. Yet here stood Harry, offering compassion so freely to a man who looked like he had been carved from the very essence of despair.
Severus’s mind raced as he grappled with the implications of Harry’s presence. This child, this embodiment of hope and light, was now entangled in a world of shadows, and Severus felt an instinctual urge to protect him. To shield him from the harsh realities that had plagued both their lives.
“Nice,” the man echoed, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced at Harry, the edges of his lips lifting in a faint, hesitant smile. The moment felt fragile, like a delicate thread spun from hope and healing.
As they shared this small exchange, Severus felt the air shift around them, thick with the possibility of something new. The world beyond the beach seemed to blur and fade, the noise of the marketplace and the distant laughter of children growing faint. Here, in this pocket of reality, there was just the three of them, bound by an unspoken understanding.
Severus’s thoughts drifted, lingering on the boy’s unwavering trust. It was a rare commodity, something he had seldom experienced in his own life. He realized that he wanted to protect this child, to ensure that Harry never had to feel the sting of betrayal or the ache of abandonment. In that moment, he resolved to shield him from the darkness that lurked at the edges of their lives.
“Harry,” Severus said, his voice steady. “Do you come to the beach often?”
“Sometimes,” the boy replied, glancing back at the man beside him. “I bring him food when I can.”
The way Harry spoke of the man, his quiet affection, his unwavering loyalty, stirred something deep within Severus. He understood the boy’s need to nurture, to offer comfort where none existed. It was a reflection of his own desires, the yearning for connection in a world where kindness often felt scarce.
“Maybe I can help you,” Severus suggested, allowing his gaze to drift back to the man. “I can bring more food, and we can make sure he gets what he needs.”
Harry’s eyes brightened, a spark of joy illuminating his features. “Really? That would be great!” he exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. The innocence of his excitement was infectious, and Severus couldn’t help but feel a smile tug at the corners of his lips.
The man, still lost in thought, regarded them both with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. Severus could sense the turmoil beneath the surface, the internal struggle that kept the man tethered to his own shadows. “You don’t have to,” the man finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I want to,” Severus replied, his conviction unwavering. “You don’t have to do this alone. None of you do.”
The man met Severus’s gaze, his eyes reflecting a flicker of vulnerability that stirred something deep within Severus’s chest. It was a reminder of the battles fought in silence; the burdens carried in solitude.
“Thank you,” the man said again, more firmly this time, the words laced with a hint of hope.
As they stood together on that beach, surrounded by the endless expanse of sea and sky, Severus realized that this moment held the potential for something profound. It was a chance to rewrite their stories, to build connections where only pain had existed before. The weight of his past still loomed large, but in this fragile sanctuary, he found solace in the belief that perhaps, together, they could forge a new path.
With that thought, Severus felt a sense of purpose ignite within him, a determination to shield the boy and the man from the darkness that sought to claim them. And as they began to weave their lives together, he knew that the tides of fate were shifting, drawing them into a future ripe with possibility and hope.