For five days, Harry lived in absolute bliss.
He accompanied the professor when he went out into the forest to collect ingredients, listened to him explaining the properties of the plants that grew in the winter and how and when to harvest them. He was such an interesting man!
But with every good thing in Harry’s life, this too had to come to an end and before he knew it, his things were all packed up, the door to his beautiful room closed and he found himself face to face with a sea of red heads, who all stared at him curiously.
“Ron, why don’t you take Harry upstairs and show him the house and the room you’ll be sharing?” said the mother of the red-heads, Mrs Weasley, in a loud voice.
Harry jolted at the words, darting a terrified glance at Professor Snape. He didn’t want to go anywhere, but rather hide and go back home with Professor Snape. Back to his beautiful room with the big lake window. He clutched his bag, that held a few books, but was still light as a feather, close to his chest and didn’t move.
“Go, Harry,” said the professor. “It will be…fun. You will see.”
But Harry didn’t want to see. He had a perfect home and a perfect…well. A perfect Professor Snape. He didn’t need a red-haired family where he was the odd one out.
Professor Snape gave him a little push between the shoulder blades.
“Come on, Harry!” Ron, the smallest of the boys, said importantly. “Don’t be such a baby.”
Harry drew himself up in indignation. He was not a baby. He knew how to cook and clean and weed the garden and he had been the one to go collect herbs in the forest. Another push had him moving reluctantly.
Ron grabbed his arm and pulled Harry along, talking a mile a minute about his room and the house and the gnomes in the garden. Harry let himself be pulled along while watching Professor Snape over his shoulder. The man’s face was carefully blank, but it was mostly blank or grim or scowling, so that was nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe he was annoyed by all the chatter as well. Harry craned his neck to keep the professor in his sight until they were rounding the corner and climbing up the rickety stairs, Harry’s heart pounding, his steps faltering. What if he never saw Professor Snape again? Maybe he should go back down, but the professor had said, Harry would be staying with the Weasleys from now on. A nice wizarding family.
He barely registered when Ron flung open a wooden door to a narrow room with a ladder beside the desk that went up to an attic space.
“We’ll sleep upstairs. It’s way cooler than the other rooms, I promise.”
But all Harry could think about was that he hadn’t said goodbye and what if Professor Snape just left because he thought Harry didn’t care about him?
He spun around and flew down the stairs, almost tripping over the last two. He caught himself on the wooden railing and then darted around the corner, but the room was empty.
The woman who had sent him upstairs, Mrs Weasley, glanced out from around another corner. “Harry dear, everything all right? Did you like your new room?”
Harry stared at her. “Where is Professor Snape?” The words just came tumbling out, breathless and probably quite rude, but Harry didn’t care.
“Oh, he had another appointment to keep and already left. Is there anything you’d like for supper?”
Harry stared at her. He left? No. No, no, no. He wasn’t supposed to leave. He was supposed to stay! Harry hadn’t told him how much he’d liked his little room, how much he’d liked all their trips into the forest. He wasn’t supposed to leave without Harry. He was…he was supposed to be Harry’s dad.
Supper was a loud affair. Harry’s gaze darted around the table, watching the crowd of red-heads, trying to figure out acceptable behaviour. No one had asked him to help which was odd. Why would they want to have him if not to help them in the kitchen?
He was wedged in between Ron and the only girl at the table who darted him quick glances and then looked away, blushing. Odd.
Across from him sat the oldest sons, Bill and Charlie who looked strong enough to even frighten Dudley. Harry sat and watched as they all fell on the food like a pack of hungry hyenas. Harry had once seen a documentary on the telly and knew better than to interfere. There was no telly in the Weasleys’ home, at least not that Harry had seen. Perhaps wizards didn’t watch TV?
“Are you not eating that?” asked the brother who sat in the chair next to Ron’s, pointing at a piece of bread on Harry’s plate. He was one of a set of twins and two heads taller than Harry and Harry had already found out that they liked to play pranks, especially on their younger brother Ron. Harry shook his head quickly. Better not to cross those two.
“You shouldn’t encourage them, Harry,” Ron said importantly as the bread was snatched from Harry’s plate. “They won’t leave you anything if you don’t hurry up and then you’ll go hungry.”
Harry stared at him, feeling confused, his stomach in knots. He flinched when across from him Charlie laughed uproariously.
“Harry, dear, you’re not eating. Is the mutton not to your liking? Perhaps some more potatoes? Fred! Stop stealing Harry’s food, he can’t afford to lose any more weight. Now Harry. What would you like?”
Harry pointed at a bowl randomly, wanting to go home and then felt his stomach tie itself up even further when he realised that this was his home now. His d—Professor Snape had abandoned him.
He swallowed heavily, staring at the Brussel sprouts on his plate. He didn’t like Brussel sprouts. They always made his belly ache.
He picked up the fork, stabbed one of the smelly, sickly green things and shoved it into his mouth, chewing mechanically and then almost choking when it got stuck in his throat.
At night, dressed in the new pyjamas Professor Snape had bought him and which had winged balls zooming around, Harry watched the stars through the tiny window over the bed that had been set up next to Ron’s, silent tears streaming down his face, whilst Ron snored peacefully in the other bed. Harry almost wished to be back in his cupboard. At least there he’d known the rules.
Please, he thought, can you send him back, Mum?
*.*.*
The kitchen was peacefully quiet when Harry crept down the next morning. Mr Weasley sat at the kitchen table with a plate in front of him and a newspaper floating in the air.
“Oh Harry, you’re up early. Crumpets?” Mrs Weasley didn’t wait for a reply, but set a plate on the table with two golden brown crumpets that smelled heavenly and were still steaming. Harry slipped onto the chair and after a wary look at Mr Weasley, quickly pulled the marmalade closer, spreading it on the first crumpet and then, whilst watching Mr and Mrs Weasley, added a spoonful of clotted cream on top.
“There’s a good dear,” Mrs Weasley said and Harry stiffened with his mouth full. “Looks like you’ve got a sweet tooth, hm?”
Harry eyed her. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Aunt Petunia had made it her mission to find out his favourite foods, so that she could withhold them from him. Harry stared at the crumpet, trying to swallow the bite in his mouth through a suddenly tight throat. He darted a glance at Mrs Weasley who was still smiling, another glance at Mr Weasley who was still hidden behind the newspaper (which had moving pictures on the front!), before picking up another forkful of his crumpet under Mrs Weasley’s watchful eye. If anything, her smile seemed to widen and it didn’t look calculating the way Aunt Petunia sometimes looked, but then Harry had learned that adults could be unpredictable.
Well, as long as she wouldn’t snatch his plate away, he might as well eat up. The other boys might come down any moment.
“Here, do you like some cocoa?”
Harry blinked. Dudley had always gotten cocoa, but Harry had never been allowed. It smelled as heavenly as the crumpets and Harry took an experimental sip, eyes widening in surprise at the taste.
Mrs Weasley smiled at him again. “Yes, I thought you might like it.”
Harry froze when he heard voices drifting down, followed by the creaking of the stairs and pulled his plate closer to himself, ducking his head, when the twins entered the kitchen.
“Harry! What a surprising sight so early in the morning!” exclaimed one of them.
“Ooh, and crumpets, too,” said the other, snatching the half-eaten crumpet from Harry’s plate. Harry looked forlornly at the remaining one, all appetite gone and then he stiffened even further when the two older boys slipped into the seats left and right of him.
“Stop stealing Harry’s food!” Mrs Weasley thundered, smacking a wooden spoon across the knuckles of the twin who had stolen the crumpet.
Harry flinched.
“Ow, mum! He still has one!”
“I told you to behave! Now look at the poor thing. Harry dear, don’t mind the twins. Here, have another one. Cream?” Harry stared at the crumpet that suddenly sported a big dollop of cream, which was followed by a generous helping of marmalade. He didn’t like the marmalade on top, but he couldn’t complain now, could he?
The twins were bickering with their mother and soon the boy with the spectacles walked in. Percy.
Harry forced himself to eat two bites of the crumpet Mrs Weasley had prepared and then tried to slip away.
“Harry dear, you haven’t finished your breakfast.”
Harry froze. Mrs Weasley didn’t sound angry, but perhaps her angry just sounded different than Aunt Petunia’s.
“’m not hungry anymore.”
Mrs Weasley looked strangely sad. “Are you sure, dear? What about your cocoa?”
Harry glanced longingly at the cup, then noticed the twins staring at him and quickly shook his head.
“Very well. If you get hungry later, just come find me, all right? We want you to feel happy here.”
“All right,” he said quietly and hurried off, Mrs Weasley calling after him, “Don’t forget to brush your teeth!”
Ron was still asleep and Harry dressed hurriedly in the thick sweater his d—Professor Snape had gotten for him and a pair of soft blue trousers before slinking off to find a suitable hiding place. It didn’t take him long to find one—the house was full of nooks and crannies and crooked corners. There was a tiny cupboard under the stairs up to the second landing, smaller even than the one he’d grown up in. This one, however, had a tiny window overlooking the overgrown garden and the rolling hills beyond. Harry curled up, leaning his temple against the window pane, and let the tears flow.
He couldn’t bring himself to come out even when they called for him, just stared listlessly out of the tiny window and felt utterly alone.
When he saw the familiar black-clad figure stride across the lawn it took him a long moment to notice him. So long, in fact, that the man was almost gone from Harry’s sight before he blinked and pressed himself against the window to make sure that it was really him and not some figment of his imagination. But it was. Harry would know that long black hair and that distinct nose anywhere.
He cracked the door open, straining his ears, even holding his breath, so that he wouldn’t miss a thing.
Then, a murmur downstairs. Deep and dark and so very familiar. And then Mrs Weasley’s unmistakable shrill voice, “Severus! My, did something happen?”
Harry was up and running before he’d even thought about it, terrified that his d— that Professor Snape would leave before Harry had a chance to talk to him.
*.*.*
It had been a terrible night. The devastated look in Harry’s eyes had haunted Severus into his dreams, morphed into Lily’s eyes full of reproach and anger. Then he had dreamed of coming to the Dursleys, only to find Harry dead at the bottom of the stairs, his small body grotesquely twisted, of opening the door of the cupboard to find a small coffin.
He woke up in a panic and had to take a Calming Draught until his brain started working again.
Harry was fine. He was with the Weasleys. Molly knew what she was doing.
Lily’s whispers followed him all through breakfast, Severus, save my son.
“I did, damn you!” he finally roared when he couldn’t take it anymore. “Now leave me alone, will you?”
She didn’t.
He rested his head on the table, finally admitting defeat. “You’ll see, the boy is fine,” he muttered darkly. “And then you better leave me alone.”
He was speaking to a voice in his head. It was official. Severus Snape had finally cracked. After surviving years of spying, an eight-year-old boy had done him in.
The Burrow was crackling with the energy of far too many red-heads when Severus arrived. The children all fled from him, hiding and watching him from the shadows.
Molly was not happy to see him again. But then, nobody ever was.
He was standing in the door of the kitchen, talking to Molly, being berated for showing up unannounced and not giving Harry time to adjust, listening to her telling him, “He’s fine, everything’s fine! You should leave before he sees you!” The next moment something slammed hard into him, almost knocking him over and a pair of thin arms wrapped around his waist, clinging on for dear life.
“Harry,” Severus said, surprised and a bit alarmed, for the boy was trembling like a leaf.
“Harry, did something happen?” The boy only squeezed him tighter. Severus exchanged a concerned glance with Molly.
“Did something happen?” he asked Molly, voice a bit harsher than he’d intended
“Not that I know of,” said Molly and then shouted at the top of her lungs, “FRED, GEORGE, WHAT DID YOU DO TO POOR HARRY?”
Harry flinched violently, curling even further into Severus as if trying to hide in his robes. Severus couldn’t really blame him. Molly did have a voice on her.
“I told you, you shouldn’t have come. It’s too early,” Molly said.
Harry sucked in a sharp breath, pressing his face into Severus’s robes, so that Severus was concerned he would suffocate. He shot Molly a glare before turning his attention back to the boy.
“Harry, please.” It took some effort to loosen the boy’s grip enough to be able to kneel before him and even more effort to coax him to look at Severus. His face was deathly pale, eyes wide and pleading. Tear tracks visible on his hollow cheeks. Gone was the bright-eyed boy of the past week who had been awed at every little bit of magic and had asked question after curious question about herbs and plants and things in his books he didn’t understand.
“Tell me what happened,” Severus said as gently as he could.
The terror in the boy’s eyes was a lance through Severus’s heart. Had he broken something? Had one of the boys hurt him? Severus would string them up by their ears.
“I promise, no one will punish you or hurt you. But please, tell me what happened.”
“I’m sorry,” the boy finally whispered and then continued in a rush, voice cracking, “I can be good, I promise, I can even work, I can! And I promise, I’ll be good!” And then he burst into tears.
Severus stared at the boy in utter bewilderment. “What are you talking about? No one requires you to work.” He glared at Molly and Arthur. “What did you say to him?”
“Nothing!” Molly exclaimed in outrage. “I have no idea what he’s talking about. Harry dear, did the boys say anything to you? I know they can be a bit wild sometimes.”
Harry jerked away when she tried to turn him around, his little fingers curled into Severus’s robes with a white-knuckled grip.
Molly jolted at the boy’s reaction, looking alarmed for a moment before her expression turned stern. “Severus, I think, he just needs some time. Trust me. It’s barely been a day.”
“Please, don’t leave me here.” It was the faintest of whispers that drifted towards his ear, but Severus’s black heart cracked and then shattered into a million pieces. He had thought finding Lily dead had been devastating, but this?
From the distraught look on Molly’s face, she had heard it too, her eyes glistening with tears.
“Harry,” Severus said, at a loss for words.
“We’ll give you a moment,” Arthur said, herding his wife out of the parlour.
“Harry, I thought you would be happy with a family.”
Harry shook his head.
“But where are you going to stay?”
Harry threw himself at Severus, arms tightening around him in an obvious answer.
Severus froze, mind blanking out for a moment. He couldn’t… He couldn’t.
Severus slowly wrapped his arms around the boy, stroking the boy’s back and suppressed a sigh. “Harry… I’m not… I’m not fit to raise a child.”
That made Harry only cling tighter. “Please, I can be good. I can clean and cook and … and … and do lots of things. Please. You won’t even notice I’m there.”
Severus closed his eyes, pulling the boy close who sobbed into Severus’s robes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Harry,” Severus finally said, his voice hoarse. “You did nothing wrong. I thought… I thought you would be happier with a real family. With other children.”
Harry frantically shook his head.
Severus sighed deeply. He couldn’t leave the boy here, not like this, not after what he had been through. “All right,” he finally conceded. “Let’s go back to Hogwarts.”
Harry perked up. “You’ll take me with you?”
Severus nodded. “For now.”
Harry straightened, eyes bright. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”
Severus already regretted every choice he’d ever made.
*.*.*
“Will you tell me what happened at the Weasleys?” Severus asked when he tucked Harry in that night. “Molly said you wouldn’t eat.”
“I couldn’t,” Harry whispered.
“And why is that?”
Harry shrugged. “My belly hurt.”
“Does it still hurt?”
Harry shook his head.
Severus relaxed. Perhaps it had only been anxiety then. Merlin, what had he been thinking, giving a highly traumatised boy into the care of a wild and raucous family like the Weasleys? But who else was there?
“They were so loud,” Harry admitted in a whisper. “And they always … always touched me.”
Severus tensed, but Harry only snuggled closer into Severus’s arms as if to say that Severus didn’t count. Did he even notice what he was doing? Why on earth would the boy feel safe with Severus of all people?
“Please don’t give me away.”
Severus closed his eyes, his arms automatically settling around the small child. Lily’s boy. What an odd pair they were. But Severus couldn’t keep him, could he? He knew nothing of raising a child and he had to work during the day and…
He took a deep breath and Occluded everything away. He’d find a way. He always did and he wouldn’t fail Harry again. He stroked a hand through Harry’s unruly hair and then pulled a bit away, waiting until Harry reluctantly met his gaze. “Are you certain you wouldn’t be happier with a family? A mother and father. Perhaps a quieter family with just one child.”
Harry stiffened, but stayed silent, his eyes darting away.
“Harry, please, I need you to speak to me.”
The boy curled in on himself and Severus had to suppress a sigh.
“All right then. We will speak tomorrow. Do you think you can sleep now? Have you eaten enough?”
Harry nodded and shrugged both at the same time.
“You’ll tell me if you’re hungry? Or just grab something from the kitchen?”
Harry held himself very still.
“You are allowed to eat as much as you want as long as you are living with me, Harry. I promise.”
There was no reaction and Severus didn’t know whether he wanted to shake the boy or curl up around him to shield him from this dark and bitter world. What was he supposed to do with a child who barely talked and offered to work for him, so that Severus wouldn’t leave him with the Weasleys? He felt completely out of his depth. Should he give the boy space after his ordeal? Let him calm down and think in silence?
After a moment’s hesitation, Severus settled himself against the headboard with Harry still in his lap and summoned one of the books on Harry’s little shelf.
“How about a story after all that excitement?”
That at least made Harry perk up a bit and Severus’s nerves settled somewhat.
All was not lost. And he would make sure Lily’s boy would be well taken care of going forward.
*.*.*
Two days later and Severus was at his wits end. Classes were about to start in three days’ time and he still didn’t know what to do with Harry or what Harry even wanted. After the disaster with the Weasleys the boy had barely said a word. It was like living with a ghost.
“Molly, I do not know what to do. I tried to ask him what he wanted and he will not give me a straight answer.”
Severus was kneeling in front of the hearth after he’d tucked Harry into bed, staring helplessly at the flickering image of Molly who gave him a long look. “Well, I thought it was rather obvious the way he attacked you when you showed up.”
“But perhaps it was just the situation. Seriously, Molly, you cannot think I of all people would be fit to raise him.”
“Why not? He obviously likes you.”
“Because I was the one to rescue him from that vile family of his. He’ll be much happier with a real family, don’t you think?”
“Severus, dear,” Molly said gently, “what if you were in his shoes? What would you prefer then?”
Severus opened his mouth and stopped. If someone had come for him to rescue him from his father…
His breath caught in his chest, seeing it in his mind’s eye. Of course, he would have latched onto someone who would understand. Hadn’t he thought just a few days ago that children were supposed to be sensitive, to instinctively know a person?
He shuddered. “Molly, I can’t.”
“Of course, you can. You were friends with his mother. And you were the only one who thought to check on him,” she added in a quiet voice.
“I know nothing about raising a child.”
Molly grinned. “Well, that’s what we all thought with our first child. Welcome to parenthood Severus.”
“What am I supposed to do with him when I’m teaching?”
“He’s eight, Severus, not a baby. He can go to school or you can hire a tutor. I believe, there is a quaint little school in Hogsmeade.”
Severus glared at her. “Do you have an answer for everything?”
Molly smile turned wistful. “I wish I had, then your little boy would have felt more comfortable with us.”
“He’s not my little boy!”
“Are you sure?”
Severus hung his head, rubbing a hand down his face. “I can’t do this, Molly.”
“You can and you will,” Molly said sternly. “That boy has no one but you. And he clearly likes you. And besides, you can always call me if you need help or someone to watch him. I know you won’t believe me, but you are not alone.”
Severus gave her an incredulous look. “Why would you help me?”
Molly gave him a sweet smile. “Well, you figure it out. Now, did you talk to Albus about the situation?”
Severus scowled. “Of course. He presented me with adoption papers.”
Molly’s lips twitched. “Well, have you filled them out yet?”
“Molly, I can’t!” he exclaimed. “I’m the last person on this earth who should adopt a child! And besides they would never let me have him.”
“But do you want him?”
The question caught him completely off guard, his mind going blank as he froze under her piercing gaze. “I—I don’t know.” He felt far too young to make such a decision. How had Lily done it at twenty? This was utterly insane. He could not be trusted with a child, especially one as precious as this one. A sound made him pause and look to the side and there was Harry, staring at him with wide eyes. There gazes met for the briefest of moments before the boy whipped around and sprinted down the corridor.
Severus felt his heart sink. How much had he heard? What had Severus said? Merlin, why hadn’t Severus put up a silencing charm? “Molly, I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
“Of course,” she said. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, dear. I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
Severus stayed on his knees in front of the fireplace after the fire had winked out, just breathing and trying to collect his thoughts. When he felt a tad more centred, he rose to his feet and went to check on Harry.
“Harry?” He knocked on the door, but there was no answer, so he opened it to peer inside.
Silence met him. The bed was neatly made and the room extremely tidy. Worryingly so given that the current resident was an eight-year-old boy. Severus swept his gaze around the room, but there was no sign of the boy. Where had he gone? His heart quickened as several possible and impossible scenarios crossed his mind and he quickly bent down to look under the bed, but there was no child hiding underneath.
His heartrate skyrocketed. Where had Harry gone?
Severus was just about to leave and search the entire quarters top to bottom, the entire bloody castle if need be, when the wardrobe caught his eye. It wasn’t completely closed as if someone had shut it in a hurry without making sure to close it completely.
Or closed it from the inside.
Surely not…?
Severus carefully approached, gently placing his palm against the door that was fully closed. “Harry?”
Why would the boy feel the need to hide in the wardrobe?
The faintest sound escaped and Severus’s heart sank even further.
“Harry,” he said in the gentlest voice possible. “I am going to open the door now, all right?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, but carefully opened the right door, revealing a pale and trembling boy, wedged into the corner under the shirts and jackets neatly hung on the clothes’ rod. Severus saw a flash of tear tracks before the boy hid his face against his knees.
Severus sank to his knees, feeling a strange prickling sensation all over his body whilst his mind was completely blank.
What had the boy heard that would cause such a reaction? Severus tried to go over the conversation with Molly, but for some reason he could not remember what they had talked about.
“Harry,” Severus said softly.
The boy tensed visibly.
Severus raked a hand through his hair, suddenly wishing he’d left Harry with the Weasleys. Molly would have known … But no. She hadn’t. Which was the reason why the poor boy was stuck with Severus at the moment. Severus who had no idea how to deal with children. Severus, whose only role model was a father who thought beating his son into submission was a valid educational tool.
Merlin help him, what was he to do?
“Harry, won’t you at least come out of the wardrobe?”
The boy shook his head.
Severus suppressed a sigh and, not knowing what else to do, reached out to cover a small foot with his hand. The boy was so small. So fragile. Severus held his breath when the boy tensed even further at the touch, but didn’t pull his foot away or shake him off. After what felt an eternity of tense silence, the boy finally seemed to relax a bit. Severus counted it as a win.
“What did you hear that has you so upset?” he asked and winced at the sharp edge to his voice. He was not suitable to raise a small child no matter what Albus and Molly thought.
The tension was back in the boy.
Severus stroked the foot underneath his hand, careful not to tickle.
“Do you not want to be adopted?” Severus asked softly. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the boy curled into an even tighter ball, toes curling beneath Severus’s hand.
Severus didn’t know what to do. Why wouldn’t the boy speak to him? Why wouldn’t he just say what he wanted?
Severus paused. The boy had shaken his head earlier. Perhaps he couldn’t deal with complex questions? Merlin help him, did he have brain damage?
No, Severus was being ridiculous. He had tested the boy on his skills in mathematics and elocution, reading and history. And whilst the boy seemed to be a bit behind with a few of the skills he should have acquired by now the reason for that was likely the public school system or the horrid circumstances the boy had found himself in. No, there had been no sign whatsoever for brain damage or any form of mental disabilities. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check in with Poppy and make sure there was nothing they had missed in their first assessment of the boy.
Severus took a deep breath to calm his racing heart and focus on the boy who was still hiding in the wardrobe. Merlin, he really wanted to grab the child and hand him off to Molly.
“Harry, the floor is not very comfortable and I cannot believe the wardrobe is either. I’m going to pick you up now and then we shall sit down on the bed and talk.” There. Stern but gentle that was good, wasn’t it?
He rose to his feet with a hiss and shook his right leg which had fallen asleep while he knelt on the hard stone floor.
He saw Harry peeking at him and then quickly hiding his face again when he caught Severus’s eyes.
“Now, last chance for you to come out of there on your own,” Severus announced when the pins and needles finally started to fade from his leg.
The boy didn’t react.
“Very well, if you insist.”
Harry gasped, hands automatically going around Severus’s neck when Severus grabbed him and hoisted him onto his hip. Well, at least, the boy had some survival instinct.
Severus sat down on the bed with a lapful of boy, having some strange sense of déjà vu. They kept ending up here, didn’t they? At least the bed was quite comfortable, so much so, that for a fleeting moment Severus entertained the thought of lying down and taking a nap. Well, it was rather late, wasn’t it? Harry should be asleep and not hiding in wardrobes and crying his eyes out.
“Will you tell me now what has you so upset?”
Harry shook his head. Well, at least he was honest.
“Did you hear about the adoption? Is that why you’re so distraught?” Perhaps he did not want to be adopted. “There is no need to worry, I haven’t signed anything.”
Harry made a low keening sound, his bony shoulders trembling.
Severus’s anxiety spiked. Had the boy hurt himself? He cast a quick diagnostic charm which didn’t show anything beyond exhaustion. Yes, the boy needed to calm down. At once.
“Harry, if you do not talk to me, I cannot know what you want,” Severus said in exasperation, trying to recall what he’d said that would make Harry so distressed, but couldn’t think of anything. He was so sick of all this back and forth.
“Do you want to be adopted by the Weasleys?” That, at least, got a reaction out of Harry. He shook his head so vehemently that his entire body shook in Severus’s arms.
Severus paused, an idea forming in his head. The boy did seem to know what he wanted, or rather what he did not want and was quite clear in expressing his displeasure. It was worth a try, was it not?
“Do you want to go back to the Dursleys, then?”
“No!” the boy squeaked, then buried his face against Severus’s shoulder.
Well, that had been clear, hadn’t it?
“Do you perhaps want the headmaster to adopt you?” Severus continued.
The boy stiffened. Interesting. Was this confusion or was he weighing up his options?
Severus held his breath, heart pounding at what he was about to ask. “Do you want me to adopt you?”
The boy froze completely. He seemed to have stopped breathing altogether.
Well, but why then had he run away and hid in the wardrobe. Why then was he still crying silent tears? What had Severus said? Oh. That was it, wasn’t it? Molly had asked him whether he wanted to take the boy in and Severus had replied he didn’t know.
Merlin and Morgana. They were a pair, were they not?
But what was he supposed to do if the boy wouldn’t make his wishes clear? All this guessing would make Severus go mad. He couldn’t keep the boy if Harry didn’t state plainly what he wanted.
Severus paused, thinking back to the incident with the marmalade. Harry did make his wishes clear, didn’t he? If one cared to look for the signs. It was like looking for the subtlest of colour changes in a potion. If one observed very closely, the potion would tell when it was ready or needed to be tweaked. And Severus knew very well how to observe. It was that which made him one of the best Potions Masters in Britain.
“All right then, here’s what we shall do,” he said, feeling a lot calmer than he had a moment before. He would treat Harry like an experimental potion. Observation was key. Simple. “You will stay with me for now.”
Severus didn’t even need to watch carefully because the boy went limp with obvious relief. Severus felt some of the tension leave his own shoulders as well. Yes. He would observe Harry very closely and watch for the subtle signs.
He brushed his fingers through Harry’s unruly locks and continued. “We will talk to the headmaster in the morning and see if we can get you into the school in the village, so that you can start on Monday. If you change your mind and…find that you wish to live with someone else you must tell me, can you do that?”
Instead of answering the thin arms only tightened around Severus as if Harry had every intention to never let go of Severus again.
Well. Despite what Molly had said it seemed like they still had a long way to go until Harry trusted him. Or anyone for that matter.
Severus settled against the headboard with Harry in his lap, summoned the book with wizarding fairy tales from the night stand, opened it to where they had left off before everything had gone downhill again and began to read.