By the time night fell, the fever finally broke and the boy fell into a deep sleep, breathing easier than he had ever since Severus had found him in that cupboard. Severus carefully put him down on the bed, tucking him and straightened in relief when the boy only sniffled once before relaxing into sleep.
“I’ll be off, Poppy,” he announced.
“Get some sleep,” she ordered.
Severus rolled his eyes and strode off.
Once he had showered and changed clothes, however, he found that his thoughts kept returning to that little boy—Lily’s son—sleeping upstairs in the hospital wing all alone. Severus picked up a book on Asian Potions Making after ordering his dinner into his quarters, but when he kept re-reading the same sentence over and over again, he gave it up as a lost cause.
He finished his dinner quickly, feeling disgruntled and angry at himself, before choosing two books that would keep him occupied for a while, pulling on a fresh set of outer robes and left his quarters.
Poppy peeked her head out of her office, the moment Severus strode into the Hospital Wing, gave him a knowing look, which vexed him to no end, but before he could give her a scathing look in return, she had already disappeared.
Severus stepped up to the only occupied bed which seemed far too big for the small figure lying curled up underneath the blankets. Harry’s breathing still had a distinct rasp to it, but his forehead was only slightly warm to the touch. Loath to fold himself once more into the chair he’d occupied for so long, Severus took off his boots and settled on the bed next to Harry’s, stretching his legs out, and unshrank the books with a tap of his wand. He picked up the tome on human development he’d brought with him, hoping to unearth the origins of that Muggle experiment he’d been thinking about and losing himself in the flow of words.
Severus woke up with a start, wand already in his hand and pointing, until he realised that he was in the Hospital Wing, lying in one of the beds, a blanket draped over his body, the book he’d been reading lying innocently on the nightstand. He rubbed a hand down his face, cursing himself for falling asleep and being unaware of Poppy bustling around. He was about to cast a quick Tempus, when he noticed the small boy standing beside the bed, watching him with wide eyes.
“Harry,” Severus said, trying not to snap as he thought of what he could have done to the boy. “You should be in bed.”
The boy’s eyes flickered to the unmade bed beside the one Severus was currently occupying, then returned to Severus.
Severus twirled his wand to cast a warming charm on the boy’s feet, so that he wouldn’t relapse. Seemed like the potions were finally working because the boy hadn’t started coughing yet.
The boy’s eyes widened even further, his gaze darting from Severus’s wand to his feet and back again.
“What did you do?” he asked, then ducked his head.
“Magic,” Severus replied, matter-of-factly.
The boy blinked. “But magic isn’t real.”
Severus should have expected this after what he had seen at Petunia’s house, yet he felt his jaw clench and could barely hold back the growl as he snapped, “Who told you that?”
The boy curled in on himself and shrugged.
Severus wanted to strangle Petunia and Albus, and Lily for dying and then not alerting him sooner to her boy’s plight.
“I assure you it very much is,” Severus said, transfiguring a piece of lint into a butterfly.
The boy’s mouth dropped open in awe, letting out a raspy giggle when the butterfly sat down on his nose before flying on, dancing around his head.
Severus thought that his sanity must have finally deserted him for doing something so utterly foolish and nonsensical. He quickly vanished the offending insect.
“Can you teach me how to do that?” the boy asked in a hushed voice.
“Perhaps when you’re a little older.”
“Really?” The boy almost squeaked in delight.
“Yes, of course. Now sit, will you? It is far too cold for you to be standing there without socks or shoes.”
“But you made my toes warm!”
“Nevertheless. Come, sit.” Severus patted the bed beside him, but the boy did not sit as Severus had expected him to, instead, after a moment’s hesitation and a wary glance at Severus, lifted the light blanket Poppy had draped over Severus while he slept, and slid beneath it, slowly lying down against Severus’s side, all the while watching him warily from the corner of his eye.
Severus sat frozen, staring at the boy in disbelief. Why would he…? They regarded each other until Severus chided himself for acting like a fool. Would he really let himself be intimidated by an eight-year-old boy? Harry wasn’t that much younger than the usual imbeciles he taught. Sick, perhaps, and with a whole lot of baggage, but Severus knew how to deal with that, didn’t he? He would just tell the boy to go back to his own bed and… Hadn’t Poppy said something about how physical contact could help with the healing? Was that what the boy was doing? Did he have an instinctive knowledge? But no, then he wouldn’t seek out Severus.
He was so caught up in his own musings that he didn’t even realise that he’d curled an arm around the boy until Harry melted in obvious relief, giving Severus a small smile, settling against Severus’s side as if that had been his plan all along.
Was it too late to shove him out of the bed? Probably. What an odd boy. Didn’t he know…? But of course he didn’t. He knew nothing.
“Are you a teacher then?” Harry asked in a hushed voice.
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
The boy perked up at that. “And you teach magic?”
“Potions.”
Harry cocked his head. “Magic potions?”
“All kinds of potions. The medicine you took? Those were all potions I prepared.”
The reverent look on the boy’s face made Severus distinctly uncomfortable.
“Do you really make them in a cauldron?”
Severus’s brows shot up in surprise until he remembered some of the Muggle fairy tales he’d read. “I do.”
“So what’s your name then?”
Severus eyed the boy suspiciously, but Harry simply watched him, eyes bright with curiosity. Of course they were. He was a child.
“Severus Snape.”
Harry cocked his head, his lips moving as he tried to repeat the name to himself. “That’s an odd name.”
“Is it?”
The boy shrugged. “I’ve never heard it before.” He squinted a bit. “Are you from Iran? I had a boy in my class who was called Sardar. I think. He had a nose like yours.”
Severus didn’t know whether he should laugh or be affronted. “No,” he said, aiming for a neutral tone. “I am not from Iran. And I do not have Persian ancestors. Not that I know of at least.” He had never thought of it before. Did his nose look Persian?
“What does Persian mean?” the boy asked.
“It is the adjective for the language and the people of Iran.”
The boy scrunched up his nose. “That’s weird. Why is it not Iranish? You know? Like English. But then, why is not Englandish? Hm.”
Severus felt his lips twitch at the boy’s reasoning. It sounded a lot like the discussions Severus himself had had with a young Lily Evans.
“I believe, it would be Iranian.”
The boys eyes lit up. “Oh! Really? But then why did you say Persian?”
“I believe Persia is what the Greek called the country of Iran and therefore we do too.”
“Ah.” The boy nodded sagely. “I’m Harry, by the way.” He smiled brightly, obviously done with his contemplation of terms for different nationalities. “Harry Potter.”
“I know.”
The boy’s forehead creased in confusion before his eyes brightened with understanding. “Ah yes, Mum sent you, right?”
Severus felt another shiver run down his spine, like ghostly fingers brushing against him. The boy couldn’t know about the dreams, now, could he? No, definitely not. Lily was dead and so what if Severus had found the boy in dire straights that did not mean anything. Except for ghosts the dead could not communicate with the living.
“What did your aunt tell you about your parents?” Severus inquired instead of answering the boy’s question. It wouldn’t do to encourage his childish beliefs of his mother speaking to him.
Harry shrugged, yawning widely and snuggling against Severus who was pleased to note that the boy did not feel overly warm anymore. Hopefully the worst had passed. “That they were drunks and died in a car crash because they were so drunk they couldn’t drive the car properly.” Harry lifted his head and pushed away his hair from his forehead, exposing a jagged scar. “That’s where I got this one.”
Severus brushed gentle fingers across the red lightning bolt scar. “No, Harry,” he said quietly, thinking of the irony of the situation, that he of all people would be the one to tell Harry the truth, or at least part of it. “Your parents weren’t drunks. Far from it. They were…” Foolish and rash and self-sacrificial idiots. “…brave and died protecting you from the…” Severus hesitated a moment, but he’d never believed in coddling children. “…from the Dark Lord.”
Harry’s eyes were round as saucers. “You knew them?”
Severus inclined his head. “I did.”
“Could they do magic?”
“Yes, they could.”
“But then why did they die?” the boy cried. “If they could do magic! That makes you invincible, doesn’t it?”
How on earth could the boy have preserved such innocent hope? “No, Harry, magic does not make you invincible,” Severus explained. “The Dark Lord could do magic as well and was more powerful than your mother and father. But not powerful enough to get to you as well. When your mother tried to protect you, she performed some very strong magic which made it impossible for the Dark Lord to touch you.”
“Oh,” Harry said. His little fingers were circling around the buttons of Severus’s waistcoat, around and around, as he took in the words.
Then he looked up, his eyes full of childlike innocence. “So, I really can do magic as well?”
“I do not know for sure. Did strange things sometimes happen around you?”
Harry ducked his head. “Is it bad if it did?”
Severus closed his eyes at the implications behind that little remark, his arm involuntarily tightening around the small boy. “No. It is normal in wizarding children and called accidental magic.”
“Oh,” Harry said again, his fingers stilling, gaze once more fixed on the buttons. “My uncle once pushed me down the stairs and I bounced all the way down. It was quite funny. Although the yelling afterwards was not. And a few weeks ago, I turned my teacher’s hair blue. She didn’t think it was funny, either.”
Severus held his breath. It was either that or explode and leap off the bed to go and kill Vernon Dursley. He’d pushed the boy down the stairs? But then, Severus knew very well what family was capable of.
“Well,” he said, when he was sure to have himself under control, “things will be different now.”
Harry perked up. “I don’t have to go back?”
“No. We’ll find yourself a nice wizarding family.”
The boy’s face fell. “Oh.”
“Do you not wish to go to a wizarding family?” Severus asked, confused about the boy’s reaction.
“I s’ppose,” he mumbled.
Severus suppressed a sigh. He really had no idea how to deal with children, especially ones so young. The sooner they would find a home for Harry the better.
*.*.*
The next morning, they woke to a flurry of feathers and hooting, Harry curled up against Severus’s side as if he belonged there.
“Severus Snape, what is the meaning of this?” Poppy raged. “Why are your owls coming here and not to your own quarters?”
Severus felt a small smile tug at his lips as he sat up, ducking when an owl sailed over his head. “Because they are here for Harry.”
Harry who had been watching the spectacle with round eyes, turned a startled glance on Severus. “For me?” he whispered. “But…why?”
“Well, I believe you missed Christmas, did you not?”
Harry stared at him, mouth hanging open, eyes shining. “I get…Christmas presents?”
Severus felt inexplicably embarrassed and suddenly wished he hadn’t ordered quite so much. Well, too late now. “It is nothing fancy. Mostly practical things.” He tried to ignore Poppy’s knowing smile. Harry did not even have a change of clothes. He needed at least something to tide him over until they could find him a new home.
Most of the owls had dropped their parcels on the bed by now and were getting owl treats from Poppy.
“Don’t you want to open them?” Severus asked, carding his fingers through his hair to get some of the tangles out. That’s what he got for falling asleep twice and in his clothes no less. He would need a few straightening charms to get out all the wrinkles.
“But… there’s so many.” The boy’s voice was hushed.
Severus waved a hand. “Just start with one, it doesn’t matter.”
Poppy, bless her soul, brought Severus a cup of tea then and he reached for it, grateful to have something to do whilst Harry finally decided on the first parcel to open. He was surprisingly careful, not tearing into it, the way Severus had expected a child his age to do, but carefully opening the twine, then gently unwrapping the paper and smoothing it out, revealing a children’s book in the process.
Harry looked in awe at the dragon that curled on the book cover, scales glittering golden, and jolted when the dragon uncurled, yawning widely.
“It moves!” he said, shooting Severus a startled glance.
“Yes, it’s a wizarding book.” Severus suddenly realised that he didn’t even know whether the boy could read. Surely, Petunia would have sent him to school? “You can read, can you not?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Of course, I can. I’m not a baby. Or Dudley.” He snickered, leafing through the pages and watching the moving pictures with rapt attention. It was a book of wizarding fairy tales. Severus had enjoyed it a lot when he was about Harry’s age and had been pleasantly surprised that it was still in print. From Harry’s reaction it seemed to have been the right choice.
It took a while until Harry remembered his other parcels, but Severus didn’t push him. This was likely the first Christmas he had ever received anything. And wasn’t that a sobering thought? Even Severus had received Christmas presents when he was a boy.
Severus’s stomach was growling by the time the boy had finally unwrapped the last parcel and inspected the two woollen jumpers with more reverence than two pieces of clothing should warrant. “Try it on, Harry,” suggested Poppy who had thankfully ordered breakfast and was floating the trays over.
Harry flinched slightly, shooting her a wary glance before his little shoulders relaxed and, after Severus gave him an encouraging nod, pulled on the forest green jumper over his pyjama top. He stared down at himself, looking utterly overwhelmed as he fingered the soft wool and then he whipped around and threw himself into Severus’s arms. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Severus patted his back awkwardly, feeling his face heat. “No need for that.” He wasn’t in the least prepared for the blinding happiness on the boy’s face as he leaned back and looked up at Severus, and his shrivelled heart twisted painfully.
He needed to talk to Albus at once. The sooner the boy could be shipped off to a loving family the better.