Chapter Text
A skinny, dark-haired boy gazed blankly out the window of the Hogwarts Express, his cheek pressed against the cold glass. By some miracle, Severus Snape had managed to survive another summer at Spinner’s End, although his father had certainly seen to it that he’d repented for his continued miserable existence. Fortunately, the twelve-year-old had become quite adept at hiding the evidence of his punishments, having realized at a young age that it was safest to avoid the attention of nosy adults who would ask unwanted questions.
He had learned that lesson when he’d been five years old and had foolishly blabbed to his teacher about his bruises, only to discover that the police officer sent to investigate owed Tobias a large sum of money from poker games. The case had been swiftly swept under the rug in return for a forgiven debt, and the thrashing Severus had received in turn had been more than enough to ensure that he would keep his trap firmly shut. After all, it was a father’s prerogative to teach his worthless freak of a son his place, and he would do well to remember that.
“Earth to Sev! Are you okay?”
Severus flinched as a hand waved in front of his face, startling him from his train of thought. Seeing his best friend, he relaxed slightly. “I’m fine. Just tired,” he said, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace.
“Are you sure?” the red-haired girl asked dubiously, eyeing him with a frown. “Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey when we arrive. You don’t look too well.” She lowered her voice. “Did… did your father—?”
“I said I’m fine, Lily,” Severus interrupted defensively, a bite in his tone. While his neighborhood friend knew more than most about his home life, she didn’t know the full truth, and he was determined to keep it that way. No one could ever find out.
“Sev…”
“Drop it, Lily.”
“Alright, if you say so,” she relented with a quiet sigh, recognizing that it was useless to continue pushing. “It’s just that I barely saw you this entire summer, and I’ve missed you. What did you do during the break?”
Severus closed his eyes, biting back an exhausted sigh. It was always hard knowing what to share with his friend. Lily was always so happy and kind, always trying to look on the bright side of things. He would feel guilty if he made her listen to his problems, especially since she wouldn’t understand anyway. Besides, while he had been forced to bear the brunt of his father’s volatile temper, the discipline had been nothing less than he’d deserved. The only punishment that had been truly unbearable was on the day he’d discovered his mother lying dead in her room with a vial of poison beside her.
Telling his father the news of his mother’s suicide had earned him one of the worst beatings he’d ever received in his twelve miserable years of existence. Tobias’ belt had practically flown off, a meaty hand simultaneously wrapping around his neck and choking him as the drunken man released his rage. Severus flippantly figured that he’d probably cried enough for his mother’s death during that punishment. Of course, he would never tell Lily that. She would pity him, and that would almost be as bad as the shame he felt for allowing a muggle to thrash him, even if said muggle was his father.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Sev?” Lily’s voice cut through the silence.
“Sorry,” Severus winced, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “What’d you say?”
“I asked what you did over the summer.”
Severus shrugged nonchalantly and casually avoided her gaze. “I was just working a little ways down the road. Nothing too exciting.”
“I see… Well, at least you got to earn some pocket change,” Lily said slowly.
Severus shifted uncomfortably under his best friend’s discerning gaze, wishing that she would look away. Lily was giving off her ‘I know you’re lying but you’ll tell me the truth later’ expression, and that was never a good thing. He was perfectly fine. There was no reason for her to worry about him. “Erm, so are you excited for our second year at Hogwarts?” he fumbled awkwardly, hoping to shift the attention away from him.
“What? Oh, yes, of course, I am!” Lily exclaimed, accepting the subject change easily enough, much to his relief. “Second year is supposed to be much easier now that we know the basic theory behind magic.”
“Yes, although I’m sure the coursework will be more difficult. Hopefully dunderheads like Potter and Black will be able to handle it, given their limited brain capacities,” Severus said with a smirk.
“Severus! I know that Potter is a conceited jerk and Black is an obnoxious prat, but you shouldn’t call them stupid,” Lily scolded.
Severus rolled his eyes. “Why do you always defend them? They’re nothing but arrogant arses who have made it their mission to make my life miserable.”
“I know, but at least they don’t use dark curses on people like the boys you hang out with in Slytherin! Don’t you remember what they did to Mary last year?” Lily protested.
“Potter and Black are practically just as bad. They’re always picking on people and bullying them just because they’re poor or unpopular!” Severus retorted darkly. He hated it when they had this argument. He stuck with his housemates because he had no choice, but Gryffindor didn’t work like Slytherin, yet she still defended the arrogant dunderheads.
Lily crossed her arms and speared him with a fierce glare. “I know that Potter and Black bully you, and that’s wrong, Sev, but I don’t consider them my friends. You’re always hanging out with Avery, Mulciber, and Rosier, though, so what’s your excuse? They’re obsessed with the Dark Arts and insult everyone who is a muggleborn. Do you believe all that pureblood supremacy stuff as well, and I’m just the exception?”
“No! Of course, I don’t!” Severus protested loudly. At her challenging look, he lowered his eyes to his fidgeting hands and sighed. “Look, Slytherin has a hierarchy. As a half-blood, I’m already at the bottom. My potions skills are the only reason most of them tolerate me. If I started speaking out against their ideology, I’d become one of their targets without the protection of sleeping in another dorm. Slytherins aren’t supposed to turn against their own, and any who do are labeled traitors and made to pay.”
“But that’s horrible! Why hasn’t Dumbledore—”
“Dumbledore doesn’t care about Slytherins,” Severus interrupted, his voice bitter. “To Gryffindors like him, we’re all just worthless, slimy snakes.”
As if on cue, the compartment door abruptly banged open, revealing none other than Dumbledore’s golden Gryffindor boys.
“Why, if it isn’t our favorite Snivellus,” Potter greeted, a smug smirk gracing his face.
Severus grit his teeth. “What do you want, Potter?” he bit out, his hands curling into fists.
“Just saying hello,” Potter gestured airily, winking at an unimpressed Lily.
“Shove off, Potter,” Lily snapped.
“You wound me,” the Gryffindor boy lamented dramatically. Turning to Severus, he smirked. “Say Snivellus, I’m surprised Filch hasn’t banned you from the halls of Hogwarts yet with all that grease dripping from your hair.”
“Yeah, the hallways have got to be a safety hazard after he’s walked through,” Black added with a sneer. “They should really put up a sign. Caution: Greasy floor from the greasy git.”
“Get out of our compartment and leave Sev alone, or I’ll hex you,” Lily threatened. “You’re both nothing but arrogant toerags.”
”I can defend myself, Lily,” Severus hissed in a whisper.
Black rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever, Evans. It’s starting to stink in here from all the grease fumes, anyway.”
Severus’ lip curled in anger, his cheeks flushing against his will. It wasn’t his fault that Tobias refused to spend money on things like shampoo and deodorant. His eye twitched as he spotted the sandy-haired boy standing silently behind his friends, looking uncomfortable. It wasn’t like the house of lions would ostracize him if he ditched the stupid marauders, for Merlin’s sake. Lupin was a coward.
“What? Nothing to say, Snivellus?” Potter jeered.
“Only that I’m surprised Gryffindor accepts such imbecilic idiots who are too scared to fight unless it’s four against one,” he drawled disdainfully, his hand subtly reaching for his wand. “Expelliarm—”
“Scourgify!”
Severus choked, his spell left unfinished as soap bubbles suddenly filled his mouth. He fought for air, only to inhale a mouthful of bubbles, causing his throat to burn.
“Watch your mouth when speaking to your betters, Snivellus,” Black smirked.
“Leave him alone,” Lily cried furiously, drawing her own wand and pointing it at her fellow lions. “Flipendo!”
“Woah, calm down, Evans!” Black yelped as he dodged the knockback jinx.
“Yeah, Lily flower. It’s only Snivellus! Why don’t you come hang out with us instead of this slimy git?” Potter proposed, gesturing to Severus who was still spluttering on soap suds, unable to speak and desperately trying to wordlessly cast the counter-charm.
“Finite Incantatem!”
Severus gratefully gasped for air, barely noticing as Lily whirled on the Gryffindors, her face red with fury.
“Do not call me that, Potter! Now get out before I summon a prefect!”
“Okay, okay, no need to get so upset,” Potter winked, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “We’re leaving now. You know where to find us when you get sick of Snivellus.”
Lily’s bat-bogey hex just barely missed them as the compartment door slammed shut, her spell splashing harmlessly against the glass. She let out an angry huff before tucking her wand away. “I’m sorry, Sev. Are you okay?”
“I don't need your pity!" Severus croaked out as harshly as he could, his eyes stinging with tears. He had just been completely humiliated in front of his only friend, and he hadn’t even been able to defend himself. Merlin, he hated those bloody marauders.
“I’m not giving you pity,” Lily insisted fiercely, her green eyes glinting dangerously.
Severus swallowed hard at the look he was getting. Lily Evans was absolutely terrifying when she was mad. “Then what is it?” he whispered, his voice still hoarse from choking on soap suds.
“It’s called caring, Sev. Having someone stand up for you is different from pity. It’s friendship, trust, and loyalty. You deserve that,” Lily replied softly.
Severus looked down. He didn’t deserve those things, and he knew it. He was worthless—a waste of space. Ugly and weak, practically friendless, and too scared to stand up to his peers who targeted the only person he cared about because of her blood. But Lily always treated him kindly, despite his many faults, and although he didn’t deserve her friendship, he was beyond grateful for it. “Thank you,” he mumbled.
Lily nudged him gently, her eyes glistening with an emotion that he couldn't quite discern. “You’re welcome, Sev. You know that I’ll always be here for you.”
As the loudspeaker announced their arrival at Hogsmeade Station, Severus took a deep breath and mustered his best smile. “Ready for another year at Hogwarts?”
Lily grinned back, her eyes shining with excitement. “Always.”
As he entered the Great Hall, Severus barely withheld a groan as Lucius Malfoy imperiously gestured for his presence. During his first year at Hogwarts, he had absolutely idolized the older boy, blushing at the praise and attention of the powerful heir like a complete dunderhead. It was only after listening to Malfoy brag about his OWL results that Severus had realized the older Slytherin only cared for his potions knowledge, rather than him.
With an inaudible sigh, the twelve-year-old trudged over to the beckoning perfect, knowing better than to ignore the Malfoy heir, pompous prat or not. Sliding onto the bench beside the blonde, he ignored the jealous glares shot his way. He knew that sitting with the sixth years was a position of privilege for a mere second year, but if it wasn’t for the protection that Malfoy’s favor afforded him, Severus would have been more than happy to be left alone by the pretentious pureblood.
“Severus, what in Merlin’s name are you wearing?” Malfoy drawled in greeting, his nose wrinkling in disgust as his eyes scanned the second year’s worn robes. “You are disgracing the Noble House of Slytherin with your tattered attire.”
Severus’ cheeks flushed red, his fists clenching as he heard the amused sniggers of his housemates. He had barely been able to afford his second-hand school books, much less a new pair of robes, and Malfoy was well aware of that fact. This was just another power play to remind him of his place as a lowly half-blood. “I was unfortunately unable to acquire new robes before the school year,” he ground out as politely as he could manage.
“Ah, I see,” Malfoy smirked condescendingly. “I do hope that you endeavor not to bring further shame upon our house, Severus.”
The twelve-year-old nodded and ducked his head, the tips of his ears burning hot at the insult.
“Please, Lucius,” fifth year Bellatrix Black sneered. “He’s the disgusting spawn of a filthy muggle and a blood traitor whore. His mere existence is an embarrassment to the wizarding world.”
Severus clenched his jaw tightly, willing himself to not respond. He hated being poor and constantly looked down upon just because of his social class and blood status. Unlike his housemates, he hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and thanks to his late mother's spiteful decision to formally refuse her estranged parents’ offer to make Severus the Prince Heir, he would have nothing to his name unless he managed to convince someone to take him on as an apprentice for a potions mastery.
“Now, now, Bella, let’s not be too harsh,” Lucius drawled. “After all, young Severus has shown quite a lot of promise in potions so far. With proper tutelage, I’m sure he could become quite an asset to the cause,” he said with a significant look.
“Lucius is right, Bella,” Narcissa agreed, planting a kiss on her betrothed’s cheek. “Now, tell me more about your summer, darling. I heard it was rather eventful?”
“Indeed it was, my love. Father hosted a very powerful wizard at our manor, you know who I’m talking about, and he accepted my oath to join his cause as soon as I graduate,” Lucius replied, puffing out his chest like a peacock.
Severus barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes as Narcissa fawned over her boyfriend, whispering what an honor it would be to be marked by the Dark Lord. Why all of his housemates seemed obsessed with joining the Dark Lord was truly a mystery to the twelve-year-old. From what he’d heard, the Dark Lord was a powerful egomaniac who regularly tortured his followers whenever he was displeased. And while Severus was admittedly talented in the Dark Arts, even if the Dark Lord did overlook his blood status, he certainly had no desire to ever become a Death Eater. He wasn’t stupid enough to express anything but reverence for the Dark Lord when in the presence of his housemates, though.
A few moments later, the sorting ceremony started, and Severus’ thoughts wandered to the potions he would need to brew. A bruise salve was his top priority, but maybe with some modifications, it would be able to heal some of his welts as well. Perhaps Moste Potente Potions had an advanced healing draught he could brew. It was kept in the Restricted Section, but he was fairly confident that he could sneak into the library after curfew without getting caught. Unfortunately, he also lacked the potions ingredients necessary, but Slughorn was too lazy to catalogue his stores, so the man likely wouldn’t even notice if a few ingredients went missing.
As the last first year was sorted, Dumbledore tapped his glass and rose to his feet, beaming at the student body. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts,” he announced jovially. “It is always a pleasure to see our returning and new students ready to begin a new year of learning. I will try to keep this short, as I am sure you are all hungry, but there are a few announcements that must be made. As you all know, Lord Voldemort has been steadily gaining power and has been recruiting those who foolishly believe that blood defines our power and worth. As such, the castle’s security has been increased, and students are not to leave the walls of the castle after curfew. Students who disobey this rule will be strictly disciplined,” he said seriously, his eyes falling on the Slytherin table.
Severus balled his fists and glared at the table while the older years gazed stonily at the headmaster with blank expressions. It wasn’t a secret that Dumbledore favored his old house and was prejudiced against Slytherins. And while Severus certainly held no love for his housemates, it hurt that they were often shunned by the rest of the student body just because of the color of their ties. No one wanted to risk being friends with a slimy snake who was going to join the Dark Lord, after all. The only exception was Lily, and the fact that she was still willing to be seen with a slimy snake was still a mystery to him and everyone else at Hogwarts.
“With that said,” Dumbledore continued, more cheerfully now, “I am sure that we will have a wonderful year together. And now, I have kept you long enough from your meal, so let the feast begin!”
With a clap of his hands, a large assortment of dishes appeared on the tables, topped with every type of mouth-watering food imaginable. There was steak and kidney pie, bangers and mash, roast beef and gravy, and dozens of other entrees to choose from.
As his housemates eagerly loaded their plates, Severus longingly eyed the perfectly cooked roast beef. After years of being denied regular meals, he was well-accustomed to the constant pangs of hunger, and as such he wanted nothing more than to stuff himself to the brim with his favorite foods. Unfortunately, after last year’s incident, he now knew that indulging himself would only end with his stomach violently rebelling. He would have to slowly increase the size and variety of his meals so that his stomach could adjust again. Considering his options, the twelve-year-old carefully selected a plain slice of toast and a small bowl of soup. It was a rather pitiful meal, but it was certainly preferable to wondering if there would be any leftover scraps for him after his father had eaten his fill.
Picking up his spoon, the twelve-year-old cautiously tried a few spoonfuls of broth, only to feel his stomach lurch dangerously. With a disappointed sigh, he took out his wand and swished it under the table, muttering a vanishing charm under his breath. It seemed that dry, plain toast was the only thing his stomach would be able to handle for a while.
“We all know you’re a pauper, Snape, but there’s no reason to eat like one while you’re at Hogwarts,” someone mocked from a few seats away.
Severus looked up, his eyes landing on his sneering dorm mate, Evan Rosier. “Not all of us have the appetite of a rampaging hippogriff, Rosier,” he snapped back derisively.
“Mind your manners when speaking to your superiors, boy,” Bellatrix interjected coldly. “Or I’ll forbid you from even looking at that mudblood girl you’re always trailing after.”
Severus nodded stiffly, not daring to respond. Bellatrix despised him with a burning passion, but she mostly left him alone, thanks to Malfoy’s protection. While Malfoy was the leader of Slytherin, Bellatrix was the second most powerful student in Slytherin. Their words were law in Slytherin House, and anyone who disobeyed would be made to sorely regret it.
“Evans? Oh, c’mon, Snape. Don’t tell me you ditched us on the train to sit with that dirty little mudblood,” another boy, Gaspar Avery, added disgustedly. “If you ever want to get anywhere in life, you need to stop hanging out with such filth.”
“Your housemates are correct, Severus,” Malfoy confirmed with an arrogant tilt of his head. “You are quite talented at potions and the Dark Arts, so the Dark Lord might be willing to overlook your blood status if you can prove your usefulness to him. He does not look favorably upon those who associate with mudblood filth, however, so it would be in your best interests to cut ties sooner rather than later with the Evans chit.”
Severus nodded and stared at his plate, chewing his lip worriedly. It wasn’t an explicit order, but the warning had been clear. If he knew what was good for him, he would stop being friends with Lily. “I understand,” he mumbled, trying to hide the slight tremor in his voice.
As the conversation thankfully shifted away from him, the twelve-year-old hunched over, helplessly wondering what he was going to do now. It was clear that his housemates would soon demand to know if he was loyal to the Dark Lord, and it seemed that his loyalty would be determined by his decision regarding Lily. He already knew that he would never willingly end his first and only friendship, but the probability of successfully keeping their friendship a secret for the rest of their years at Hogwarts was rather low. And when his housemates inevitably found out that he had deliberately lied to them, there would be hell to pay.
Severus sighed miserably, wondering how his second year at Hogwarts had suddenly become so complicated. Little did he know, this was just the very beginning of what was to come.
Chapter Text
It was the first day of classes, and the Great Hall was filled with animated chatter as students and staff ate their breakfasts. Severus was absentmindedly nibbling on a piece of toast, his attention focused on the potions reference book that he’d checked out from the library that morning. He was hoping that it would tell him which chapter of Moste Potente Potions contained the healing draughts.
A loud groan distracted him from his research, and he sighed, wondering what had upset his housemate this time. “What’s the matter, Mulciber?”
“Look at this, Snape,” the other boy complained, showing him a piece of parchment. “We’re stuck with the Gryffindors for two subjects this term—potions and transfiguration!”
Noticing the stack of timetables on the table, Severus wordlessly picked one up, a scowl appearing on his face as he read through it. Not only did Slytherin and Gryffindor have two core subjects together, but they also shared a study hall. “Bollocks,” he muttered sourly. Spending three periods a day with the marauders was going to be absolute hell.
The warning bell rang, and Severus hastily shoved his book into his bag and stood up. “C’mon, Mulciber. We don’t want to be late for class.”
“Second year transfiguration is far more complex than the material we covered last year,” McGonagall lectured as she stood in front of the class. “It will require immense concentration and great effort, and any fooling around will not be tolerated. Today, we will be transfiguring beetles into buttons. As you should remember from Chapter Twenty of A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration , the visualization behind a spell is of the utmost importance.”
As much as he tried to pay attention, Severus found himself easily distracted as his gaze wandered across the room to where Lily was sitting. He had stayed up late the previous night thinking about the best way to handle their controversial friendship, and the only feasible option he’d been able to come up with was to pretend that they were no longer friends and then meet up in secret. The only issue with that would be figuring out when and where to meet without his Slytherin classmates noticing. He wasn’t daft enough to think that Rosier and Mulciber wouldn’t gleefully report him to Malfoy if they saw him speaking with Lily, so he’d need to be careful.
“Are there any questions before we begin?”
Severus started slightly and forced his attention back to McGonagall, inwardly berating himself for not paying attention. He had barely scraped an A in transfiguration last year, so he really couldn’t afford to let his mind wander during class.
“Very well, if there are no questions, then we will begin the practical. Today’s assignment is to transfigure your beetle into a button,” McGonagall announced. “I will be walking around to check on your progress. You may begin.”
Taking out his wand, Severus pointed it at his beetle and concentrated, visualizing a simple black button. With a focused breath, he cast the spell, groaning when the beetle only became slightly rounder. Transfiguration had always been his weakest subject, and it definitely showed in his practical work. Rummaging through his book bag, he dug out his worn textbook and placed it on his desk. He had read about the theory for this spell over the summer, so maybe there was something written in his notes that could help him.
“Well done, Mr. Potter. That is an excellent transfiguration,” McGonagall praised.
Severus snuck a glance over at the preening Gryffindor, glaring when Potter caught his eye and smirked. As much as it pained him to admit, the arrogant prat was undoubtedly talented at transfiguration, and it infuriated the young potions prodigy that his rival so obviously outclassed him in his worst subject.
“Jealous, Snivellus?” Potter mouthed tauntingly.
Severus scowled and angrily opened his textbook, only to have it magically yanked out of his grasp and knocked onto the floor. “You’re a sodding git!” he hissed, glaring daggers at the other boy.
“Mr. Potter, that’ll be five points from Gryffindor. Eyes on your own work. Mr. Snape, please demonstrate your transfiguration for me,” McGonagall requested strictly, suddenly appearing behind him.
Severus’ cheeks colored, and he ducked his head sheepishly. “Yes, Professor,” he mumbled. Reaching down to pick up his textbook, he didn’t realize his sleeve had caught on the edge of the desk until it was yanked up to his elbow in one abrupt motion. Severus’ heart stopped as he stared numbly at his bare forearm, unable to move. Then, unfreezing as quickly as he’d frozen, he scrambled to tug his sleeve back down.
As he awkwardly straightened up, textbook in hand, Severus glanced nervously at the professor, swallowing uneasily as he noticed her staring at his arm with suspicion. McGonagall’s eyes moved to Severus’ face, and her lips thinned.
“See me after class, Mr. Snape,” she ordered curtly before sweeping away.
“What was that all about?” Rosier wondered from beside him. “She didn’t even have you perform the transfiguration.”
“No idea,” Severus murmured shakily, avoiding the searching gaze coming from the front of the classroom. Had she seen the marks? No, it wasn’t possible. He’d applied glamours just that morning. But then, why did she want to speak with him?
The class was dismissed shortly after, and Severus hurriedly packed his belongings. He wasn’t going to take any chances of someone discovering his secret, even if that meant disobeying a professor. Studiously avoiding eye contact, he slung his bag over his shoulder and rushed for the door as fast as he could.
“Mr. Snape, a word, please!” McGonagall called.
Severus ignored her, half running for the exit as she started towards him, a displeased expression on her face.
“Mr. Snape, come back here!”
But the twelve-year-old was already gone.
Severus paced across the stone floor in the school kitchens, his eyes flitting to the door every few seconds as he waited for Lily to arrive. As he’d bolted from the transfiguration classroom that morning, he had intentionally bumped into his Gryffindor friend, the fumble allowing him to subtly slip her a note. On the parchment was a hastily scribbled message asking her to meet him in the kitchens during lunch so that they could discuss an urgent matter.
“Sev?”
The Slytherin’s head snapped up as Lily entered the kitchens.
“What’s going on?” Lily asked curiously. “Why’d you want to meet here?”
Severus didn’t reply, instead rushing for the door and forcefully closing it. “Did anyone follow you?” he asked in a hushed voice.
The Gryffindor shook her head confusedly. “No, I don’t think so. I just told Mary and Alice that I had to finish an assignment. What’s going on? Why’d you run from Professor McGonagall?”
“I didn’t want to be late to class, but I’ll talk to her later. It’s not a big deal. Listen, Lily, things have changed, and—” Severus nervously took a deep breath. “I don’t think we should be seen hanging out anymore.”
Lily bristled, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Is this because I’m a muggleborn? Because I’ll have you know, Severus Snape, that just because my blood isn’t as pure—”
“No, it’s not that,” Severus interrupted hastily, quickly backtracking before his best friend’s temper could explode. “Well, it does have to do with that, but it’s not because I believe in it or anything, promise! It’s just that, well, my housemates have been talking and, erm…”
“Spit it out, Severus,” Lily said, a hint of hurt in her tone. “If you don’t want to be friends anymore, just tell me.”
The twelve-year-old quickly shook his head in denial. “No, that’s not what I meant! I still want to be friends, it’s just that we can’t because the Slytherins—” He stumbled at the flat look sent his way. This was not going like he’d planned.
“Because the Slytherins what?” Lily prompted.
“The Slytherins will be highly… displeased if they find out I’m still friends with you,” Severus mumbled as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “They’ll see our friendship as a sign of my betrayal to the House and the Dark Lord.”
Lily’s eyes narrowed. Despite being a Gryffindor, the implications of such a betrayal were not completely lost on her. “They’ll be mean to you?”
Severus averted his gaze and nodded. “More like curse me until I end up in the hospital wing,” he mumbled. He didn’t even want to think about how he might be punished if his housemates discovered he wasn’t loyal to their cause. Slytherin House had a reputation of practicing the Dark Arts for a reason, and he had no doubt that a few curses from the end of Bellatrix’s wand would be more than enough to make his father seem like a sweet, fluffy teddy bear.
“You should tell a professor, Sev,” Lily insisted immediately, looking horrified. “It isn’t right that you have to be afraid of your own housemates. Slughorn’s the Head of Slytherin. It’s his responsibility to help you!”
Severus scowled. “Slughorn only cares about the students with connections. He wouldn’t want to offend a pureblood from the Sacred Twenty-Eight on behalf of a poor half-blood who will never amount to anything,” he snorted bitterly.
“Well, Slughorn ought to be fired if he won’t do his job properly!” Lily said heatedly. “And as for you, Severus Snape, you are brilliant, and you’re going to be the youngest potions master that Europe has ever seen, so don’t you dare say that you won’t amount to anything.”
The Slytherin couldn’t help but let the corners of his lips quirk up at his friend’s passionate defense. “As you wish, m’lady,” he replied, mock bowing.
“Oh, shush, you,” Lily huffed amusedly, lightly punching him in the arm.
“Wait, I remember now. I meant to say, my apologies, my noble knight,” Severus teased, sniggering at his friend’s embarrassed expression. Back when they’d been little kids, Lily had used to bring medieval knight story books to the nearby park, and together they would read the stories and act out the scenes as the characters. Lily, always the Gryffindor, had preferred to be the knight in shining armor, so Severus had usually played the role of the evil dragon or the princess locked in the tower.
“Whatever you say, Princess Sevvie ,” Lily smiled sweetly.
Severus yelped in surprise as he suddenly found himself wearing a poufy, frilly dress. “Lily, change me back into my robes,” he whined, pouting at his giggling friend. As the dress was transfigured back, the twelve-year-old huffed indignantly. “You’re a vindictive witch, Lily Evans.”
The Gryffindor in question grinned. “And don’t you forget it.” Her smug look quickly faded as the bell of the clock tower was heard in the distance. “Lunch is already halfway over...” she trailed off.
“You should probably head back to the Great Hall before someone gets worried,” Severus agreed reluctantly. He knew that none of his housemates would care that he was missing from lunch, but the same was not true for Lily.
“Are you coming to lunch?”
Severus shook his head. “I’m not very hungry, so I’ll probably just stay here and ask the house elves for a snack.”
Lily nodded and slowly drifted towards the door. “You’re sure that you don’t want to tell a professor about your housemates? I could talk to McGonagall for you, if you’d like.”
“Thanks, but I can handle it by myself,” Severus declined stiffly. “None of the professors need to know.”
“Alright, if that’s what you want,” Lily said quietly. “So, I guess we’ll have to meet in secret from now on?”
The potions prodigy bit his lip. “I think that’s the safest option for now. We’ll need to find an abandoned classroom or something since most of the older students know about the kitchens.”
“That’s okay. We’ll figure something out,” Lily said reassuringly. She paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder with a tentative smile. “Friends forever, right, Sev?”
Severus swallowed hard past the sudden lump that had appeared in his throat and nodded. “Friends forever.”
As his best friend left the room, the young Slytherin rapidly blinked back the tears that glistened in the corner of his eyes. He had been terrified that he would lose his only friend today, but he should have known better than to underestimate Lily. She was truly a force to be reckoned with, and he was beyond grateful to have her friendship.
Glancing at the time, the twelve-year-old took a deep, steadying breath. There was still one last thing he needed to do.
Minerva’s gaze swept across the Slytherin table, her lips pursing as she failed to locate the child on her mind. Lunch was coming to an end, and there was still no sign of the second year who had fled from her classroom earlier that day.
“Horace, why is Mr. Snape not in attendance?” she questioned, expecting that the boy’s head of house would have an answer.
The potions master hummed. “I hadn’t noticed he was missing, to be perfectly honest. I’m sure there’s no need to worry, Minerva. The boy is probably off in the library studying,” he laughed, waving off her concern.
“Regardless of the reason, all students who are in fifth year and below are required to attend meals in the Great Hall unless they have a pass from a professor,” Minerva reminded her colleague with an annoyed frown. “I do hope that you have not been allowing your Slytherins to regularly miss their meals.”
Horace coughed uncomfortably. “Of course not. I do my best to keep a close eye on my students. Snape must’ve just slipped my mind today.”
The feeble excuse did not escape the transfiguration professor’s attention, and her eyes narrowed with displeasure. It seemed that her colleague was once again neglecting his duties as Head of Slytherin House, likely in favor of ingratiating himself with the students from influential families. Horace’s tendency to “collect” well-connected students was not a secret amongst the staff, but she would not allow it to continue if it meant that the man was ignoring his less privileged Slytherins.
“Is there a reason for your interest in young Mr. Snape, Minerva?” Albus asked curiously.
The professor nodded curtly. “Indeed, Headmaster. I already had a close eye on the child after I noticed that he wasn’t eating much at the feast yesterday, and then at breakfast, he only had a few bites of toast. His first class was mine, and when I approached his desk to see his transfiguration, I thought I saw a brief glimpse of what looked like bruises on his arms. Perhaps it was my imagination because the marks were gone a moment later, but the boy’s panicked reaction seemed quite suspicious.”
Albus frowned. His deputy wasn’t one to imagine things, so it was certainly a matter worth investigating. “Were you able to get another look at the boy’s arm?”
“Unfortunately not,” Minerva answered regretfully. “I asked Mr. Snape to remain after class so that I could question him, but the child quite literally ran away as soon as the bell rang.”
“Hmm, perhaps you should call the child into your office this evening, Horace,” Albus suggested. “I’m sure he would be more willing to confide in his head of house if anything is wrong.”
“I suppose, but do you really think it’s necessary?” Horace asked, looking reluctant. “I already have a Slug Club meeting scheduled this evening that I would hate to reschedule. The boy was probably just in a scuffle with his classmates. You know how boys are,” he finished with a chuckle.
Minerva cleared her throat and leveled her colleague with a displeased look, satisfied to see him shrink back under her glare. “I think we can all agree that a possibly injured student is a more important matter than your Slug Club meeting, Horace,” she countered scathingly. “However, if you do not wish to investigate the well-being of one of your snakes, then perhaps you should consider if you wish to remain as the Slytherin Head of House.”
The potions master visibly paled at the veiled threat. “O-Of course, Minerva, Mr. Snape’s health is most certainly my priority. I will reschedule my club meeting and meet with the boy tonight,” he agreed shakily.
Minerva eyed him shrewdly and then nodded. “See that you do, Horace.” As deputy headmistress, it was her job to ensure that the staff were adequately fulfilling their duties, and if there was one thing that everyone knew to be true, it was that Minerva McGonagall did not shirk her responsibilities.
It was an hour past curfew when Severus decided that it was finally safe to sneak into the Restricted Section. He had not bothered returning to the Slytherin dormitory after classes had ended, figuring that it would be easier to hide himself in a nearby classroom and wait. Having heard Filch and Mrs. Norris pass by some minutes ago, he strategized that now was the ideal time to leave his hiding spot.
Entering the library, the second year quietly unlocked the gate and crept through the bookshelves, looking for the section where Moste Potente Potions was kept. From his research, he had learned that the recipe for a potent, advanced healing salve was in the fourth chapter of Moste Potente Potions. Fortunately, one of the potions books he’d read had referenced the ingredients needed, so he’d been able to acquire those beforehand. In fact, they were safely stored in his robe pockets at that very moment, safely protected by preservation charms. It was almost laughable how easy it had been to sneak into Slughorn’s private stores. The man hadn’t even bothered to ward his ingredients cupboard.
Turning the corner, Severus grinned as he spotted Moste Potente Potions a little ways down the aisle. The infamous book was on the second shelf with an old leather spine engraved with illustrations and the book’s title. Standing on his tiptoes, he just managed to tug it from its place. The book now securely in his hands, he eagerly flipped to the fourth chapter, skimming for the healing salve.
Quickly finding the recipe, Severus carefully took a blank scroll of parchment from his robes and placed it beside the book. “Geminio,” he whispered. The page duplicated itself onto the spare parchment, and he let out a relieved sigh before slipping it back into his pocket. Returning the book to its shelf, he turned around and headed for his dormitory. His plan was to brew the potion within the next couple of days, depending on the prefect rounds schedule. It would be best to sneak out when the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw prefects were on duty since he knew that they rarely patrolled the corridors by the student potions labs.
Absorbed in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the quietly approaching footsteps until it was too late.
“Ahem.”
A throat cleared behind him, and Severus whirled around, wand at the ready. Only to find himself pointing it straight at the headmaster. Oh, shite. This was not good. Not good at all.
“Mr. Snape, it is two hours past curfew. Would you care to explain why you are in the restricted section of the library instead of in your bed?” Dumbledore stood with his arms crossed, a disapproving frown on his face.
“S-Sorry, sir,” Severus stuttered, hastily lowering his wand. He bit his lip, trying not to cower under the headmaster’s gaze. Dumbledore may have tricked the lions and badgers with his smiles and twinkly eyes, but the Slytherins knew better than to believe that benevolent facade. There was a reason why the old man was the only wizard whom the Dark Lord feared.
“That doesn’t answer my question, Mr. Snape.”
Severus gulped at the stern tone, his eyes roving frantically to look anywhere but at the headmaster as he scrambled for an excuse. “I… I was just trying to find a potions book, sir,” he finally responded in a small voice.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “And what, may I ask, is the title of this book that you felt the need to acquire from the restricted section in the middle of the night?”
Severus ducked his head and fought the urge to shuffle his feet. He wasn’t about to admit that he’d been searching for Moste Potente Potions. Even though he was capable of brewing the highly advanced potions, he knew that the professors would never approve of a twelve-year-old having access to a book with such gruesome potions. Telling the truth would be practically asking for a week of detention, and he wanted to avoid that, thank you very much.
“Mr. Snape,” Dumbledore called sharply, drawing his attention back to the situation at hand. “If you will not answer that question, then perhaps you can explain why you were missing from both lunch and dinner today. Younger students such as yourself are required to eat all meals in the Great Hall, as I’m sure you know.”
Severus nervously played with the hem of his shirt. “I wasn’t hungry, sir.”
“And the reason why you missed the meeting with your head of house this evening?”
Severus paled and opened his mouth to reply, only to close it again. Slughorn had sent him a note requesting a meeting, but he hadn’t bothered to go, thinking that the man would probably be glad if he didn’t have to waste his time on a no-name second year. Evidently, it hadn’t been as trivial as he’d thought if Slughorn had informed the headmaster of his absence.
“Mr. Snape?”
“I… I misread the time and thought that I was to report to Professor Slughorn’s office tomorrow evening.”
“Is that so,” the headmaster responded, a slight edge to his voice. “Why don’t you tell me the truth, young man?"
Severus’ heart skipped a beat. “Sir?”
“Mr. Snape, I may be old, but I am no fool. You were the only lower form student who was absent at lunch. Shortly after, Professor Slughorn discovered that someone had broken into his personal potions stores and that ingredients were missing,” Dumbledore informed him. “One of the portraits reported seeing you in the vicinity around the time when the crime must have taken place, and you have just informed me that you were searching for a potions book.”
Severus paled, his mind racing as he quickly assessed the situation. The circumstances were admittedly suspicious, but the portrait hadn’t seen him actually enter the lab, and that meant there was no hard evidence yet. He still had a chance to lie his way out of this. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
“You did not take any ingredients from Professor Slughorn’s stores, then?”
Severus shook his head quickly. “No, sir.”
Dumbledore regarded him sternly. “Thievery is not taken lightly at this school, especially from a professor, young man,” he said in a steely tone. “I advise you to think carefully about whether or not you are telling the truth.”
It took every ounce of Severus’ willpower to resist the urge to squirm under the older wizard’s piercing gaze. Lying to the headmaster was clearly a bad idea, but he couldn’t afford to have the ingredients confiscated. He needed to get his hands on a healing potion, and there was no way he could go to Madame Pomfrey for one. No one could find out. That was the number one rule in the Snape household, and if his father learned that he’d broken that rule for a second time, Severus would pay dearly. “I didn’t take the ingredients,” he repeated finally, not meeting the headmaster’s eyes.
Dumbledore studied him for a minute and then sighed. “Very well, Mr. Snape. You will serve detention with Professor Slughorn for your disregard of multiple school rules today. Now, straight to bed with you, and no detours.”
“Yes, sir,” Severus mumbled. He was beyond relieved that he hadn’t been found out for his thievery, but he couldn't help but feel a tad resentful about the detention. The Golden Gryffindors were constantly breaking rules and were hardly ever punished if the headmaster handled the situation. At least McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout tried to be fair.
Hunching his shoulders, he silently turned and trudged out of the library, oblivious to the pair of concerned, blue eyes that followed him as he left.
Chapter Text
It was nearing the end of the week when Severus concluded that brewing the healing draught could wait no longer. Normally, his injuries would have at least somewhat healed themselves by now, but for some reason, the marks were refusing to go away. It wasn’t an ideal night to break curfew since a Gryffindor prefect was on duty, but he had no other choice unless he wanted to risk his wounds becoming infected.
Sitting with his bed curtains closed, Severus waited patiently until the quiet shuffling of his dorm mates finally turned to snores. Taking his chance, he slipped from his bed and tiptoed out of the room, potion ingredients stored safely in his robe pockets.
The common room door shut with a light gust of wind, and Severus shivered, the cold dungeon air permeating through his thin robe and ratty pajamas. He wished that he could have afforded to buy warmer clothes, but his father had spent almost all of their money on alcohol and paying off poker debts. At least he had managed to scrape together enough money for his school books, although he had been forced to venture into Knockturn Alley to find affordable prices.
Arriving at the potions lab, Severus took out his wand and tapped the door with a simple, “Alohomora.” The lock clicked open, and he slipped inside, thankful for once that Slughorn didn’t care enough about his students’ safety to ward the lab against entry during the night. It was actually quite impressive that the lab hadn't exploded yet considering the number of students who secretly brewed after curfew for various purposes.
Setting up his work station with practiced ease, he lit a fire underneath his cauldron with a quick flick of his wand. While he waited for the cauldron to heat up, he carefully emptied his pockets and organized the ingredients on the table. The second year knew that he shouldn’t have stolen from Slughorn, but he hadn’t really had a choice. His injuries needed urgent treatment, and going to Madam Pomfrey simply wasn’t an option.
After quickly skimming through the recipe to make sure he remembered it correctly, Severus reached for the sopophorous beans and started ingredients preparation. He was using his own crushing technique to squeeze more juice from the beans, an innovation that most potions masters would consider ingenious—with the exception of Slughorn, that is. While the potions professor almost always gave him perfect marks, the man never acknowledged his potential or invited him to his prized Slug Club, although the latter was clearly due to his lack of connections. Not that Severus would have gone even if he had been invited.
The whole idea of the club was absolutely ridiculous in the twelve-year-old’s opinion, and he had no interest in attending fancy dinners and sucking up to rich, snobby purebloods. If he was going to become a potions master, he was determined to do it honorably and earn his apprenticeship by merit rather than connections. It was admittedly a rather Gryffindor-ish mentality, but the sorting hat had told him that he shared a few traits with the house, and it wasn’t like Gryffindor had no merits. After all, Lily was a lion, and she was his best friend.
The next hour passed in relative silence, the only sounds coming from the bubbling of the cauldron and the chopping of ingredients. It was just after midnight when Severus added the final and most volatile ingredient. Belladonna was technically classified as Dark, but Moste Potente Potions had claimed that if properly dissolved, it would merely increase the potency rather than create a toxic substance. Stirring the potion counterclockwise, the potions prodigy meticulously began counting under his breath, knowing that messing up this step could be fatal. The belladonna needed to be stirred for exactly sixty seconds, or his healing salve could very easily turn into a poison.
He had just reached the halfway mark when the quiet click of a door latch echoed through the room. Severus’ head whipped around, his blood turning to ice as the door opened to reveal the very last person he wanted to see.
“Out after curfew again, Mr. Snape?” the headmaster greeted mildly. “While I am glad to see you taking initiative, I must remind you that brewing without proper supervision is strictly forbidden for all students.”
Severus stood frozen like a deer in headlights, words failing him as he tried in vain to come up with an excuse. He was caught, and he knew it. There was no getting out of this.
“I must admit, I am curious to see what you are brewing,” Dumbledore continued, walking forward. His twinkling eyes quickly hardened as he glanced down at the bubbling cauldron and sharply inhaled. “So you did steal Professor Slughorn’s ingredients.”
Forcing his limbs to cooperate, Severus stumbled backwards, his eyes as wide as saucers. Was he going to be expelled? He couldn’t go back to his father! “I-I was going to replace them. I swear, sir!” he stuttered.
Dumbledore frowned at the child’s reaction and visibly calmed himself. He wanted to make a stern impression, not terrify the boy. “Evanesco,” he muttered with a snap of his fingers. The potion vanished. “Follow me to my office, Mr. Snape. It is clear we need to have an important discussion about stealing and lying.” He led the way in silence, glancing behind him every now and then to make sure that the child was still following him. From what Minerva had said, the boy had run from her the last time she’d tried to speak to him.
Reaching his office, the headmaster gestured for his young student to take a seat. “I would normally offer you a lemon drop, but I think we have some rather pressing matters to discuss first, wouldn’t you agree?”
Severus stared at the headmaster mutely, unable to respond even if he’d known what to say. It felt like his throat had closed up, and he vaguely noticed that his hands were trembling.
“Mr. Snape?” Dumbledore prompted.
Severus swallowed thickly, fighting to regain control over his vocal chords. “Please don’t expel me,” he forced out desperately. “I'll do anything!”
Dumbledore eyed him seriously over the rim of his glasses. “Stealing from a professor is a serious offense, Mr. Snape. As is lying to an authority figure when questioned about it. While your actions are not worthy of expulsion, you will be sent home for a three-day suspension.”
Severus felt his heart sink. He couldn’t go back to Spinner’s End. His father would murder him. “Please sir, can’t I stay in the castle for my suspension? I promise I’ll follow every restriction there is,” he pleaded.
Dumbledore shook his head. “Suspension requires that you be sent home, Mr. Snape. I will owl your parents and explain—”
“No!” He hastily lowered his voice at the headmaster’s disapproving look. “I-I mean, I can write them, sir. Please? My father doesn’t approve of owls.”
The headmaster frowned. “I will send my letter by muggle means, then.”
Severus’ shoulders slumped in relief. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” Maybe he could intercept the letter before it arrived and then spend his suspension living on the streets. It was only three days, after all. His father had once kicked him out of the house for an entire week, so three days would hardly be unmanageable. He could find food scraps from the trash bins, and the small bridge by the river would provide cover for the nights.
“I am worried about you, Mr. Snape,” Dumbledore sighed, watching as the boy picked at a loose thread on his tattered robes.
“Thought you only worried about your precious Gryffindors,” Severus muttered under his breath. He winced when the headmaster arched an eyebrow, clearing having heard his comment.
“That is not true, my boy. I care about all of my students, including you,” Dumbledore countered with a hint of admonishment. “I am particularly concerned about the potion you were brewing this evening.”
“It was just a modified pepper-up potion,” Severus shrugged, trying his best to keep his expression impassive. There was no way he would ever admit what he’d actually been brewing because then the headmaster would start asking questions like why he needed such a potent healing draught, and everything would go downhill from there.
“A pepper-up potion?” Dumbledore questioned, easily catching the telltale signs of a lie. He knew enough about potions to recognize that the concoction brewing had not been a pepper-up, but he was curious to discover why the child was lying to him. “Why not go to Madam Pomfrey if you were in need of a pepper-up potion?”
Severus hesitated. “It… It was merely for my own academic interest, sir.”
“I see,” Dumbledore mused, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as a ripple of magic briefly shimmered across the young wizard’s form. His deputy had been correct to think that the child was hiding something. “And is there a reason why you chose to brew this potion after curfew instead of at one of Professor Slughorn’s supervised practice brewing sessions?”
Severus swallowed audibly, a flicker of anxiety shining through his eyes. He was still working on hiding his emotions, having been taught that they were a weakness, but he wasn’t very good at it yet. “I was unable to sleep and thought that brewing might take my mind off of things,” he lied, shifting uncomfortably under the headmaster’s searching gaze.
Dumbledore stayed silent, waiting to see if the child would continue. When the boy merely ducked his head, he spoke again. “The last time I checked, a pepper-up potion does not involve the use of belladonna. In fact, the only potions I know of that require an ingredient classified by the Ministry as ‘Dark’ are poisons. But perhaps I am mistaken?”
Severus stilled, his mind racing in panic. He should have known that the headmaster would recognize the scent of belladonna, for Merlin’s sake! Think, Severus! “I—You just think that because I’m a Slytherin, I’m automatically going to join the Dark Lord,” he accused, jutting out his chin and glaring defiantly.
“I do not think that, and I apologize if I’ve given you that impression. However, this is not the first time that a professor has caught you dabbling with the Dark Arts,” Dumbledore pointed out, refusing to yield to the attempted deflection. “What is the potion you were brewing with belladonna, Mr. Snape?”
“It wasn’t a poison, I swear! I was only using belladonna to increase the potion’s potency. I wasn’t going to hurt anyone,” Severus protested defensively, his shoulders hunching over. “And the spells are just for protection.”
“I am glad to hear that, my boy, but there is a reason why magic of a Dark nature is forbidden within the walls of Hogwarts. The Dark Arts can quickly become addictive and taint a wizard’s magical core, especially if one is young and still developing,” Dumbledore reminded him grimly.
Severus chewed on his lip and deliberately avoided the headmaster’s eyes. He knew what the older wizard had said was true, but he couldn’t help his fascination with the Dark Arts. When he’d been little, whenever he’d snuck one of his mum’s books into his room, the Dark curses and spells had always seemed like the perfect way to protect himself from his father. Naturally, as soon as he’d acquired his wand, he had started studying them more in depth, and being sorted into Slytherin had only encouraged that interest.
“Do you understand what I am telling you, Mr. Snape?” Dumbledore prompted.
“Yes, sir,” Severus acknowledged a bit sullenly. He wasn't a dunderhead, so he didn’t need the headmaster patronizing him. He would be careful, but he certainly wasn’t about to stop studying the Dark Arts completely. Besides, it wasn’t like Dumbledore actually cared about him, so why couldn’t the old man just punish him and let him go already?
“Very good, my boy. Now, you mentioned learning spells to protect yourself which rather concerns me, seeing as you are only a second year,” Dumbledore observed. “May I ask who it is that you need protection from?”
Severus stayed stubbornly silent and crossed his arms. The old coot could ask, but he wasn’t going to answer, that’s for sure. It wasn’t any of the other wizard’s business. Dumbledore would eventually give up if he refused to talk, and then he would be dismissed to go pack his bags, with none of his secrets discovered.
A minute of silence passed, and then the headmaster folded his hands and leaned forward. Severus straightened expectantly in his chair, waiting to be released.
“I can’t help but wonder, my boy, if your desire for protection is related to your reason for wearing glamours,” Dumbledore speculated slowly, calculatingly.
Severus’ head shot up, his face instantly turning a shade paler. That was not how this was supposed to go. How in Merlin’s name had the headmaster even known that he was wearing glamours? They were supposed to be invisible! “That’s not—I mean—you see,” he stammered, his eyes darting around the room for any source of inspiration. His gaze fell on a Gryffindor scarf resting on the shelf, and he blurted out the first excuse that came to mind. “Potter and Black hexed me on the train for being a slimy snake, but I haven’t figured out the counter-spell yet, so I applied a glamour.”
As silence fell, Severus waited with bated breath for a response, desperately hoping that a reminder of the House rivalries would distract the headmaster from digging deeper.
Unfortunately for the young Slytherin, Dumbledore was not a wizard who was easily fooled or manipulated. He could tell that his student wasn’t telling the entire truth, and the hint of fear in the child's voice had not escaped his notice. If the boy felt that he needed protection, then someone was clearly targeting him and likely succeeding, if the glamours were anything to go by. Perhaps a trip to the hospital wing would confirm his suspicions. The twelve-year-old was terribly thin anyways, so a checkup certainly wouldn’t hurt.
“Very well, Mr. Snape. Your suspension for stealing from Professor Slughorn will be effective immediately after you serve detention for brewing unsupervised and breaking curfew,” Dumbledore stated abruptly.
“Yes, sir. Who should I report to?” Severus inwardly sighed with relief. The headmaster had stopped probing and moved on to punishment. He was back in familiar territory.
“You will serve your detention with Madam Pomfrey, as you are evidently in need of a health checkup. I will accompany you to the hospital wing,” Dumbledore said, rising from his chair.
Severus’ eyes widened in horrified disbelief. “R-Right now?” he choked out. If the mediwitch examined him in his current state, there was no way he’d be able to keep his injuries a secret! He needed to stop this. Immediately. “Please sir, would it be possible to postpone my detention until tomorrow? I wouldn’t want to disturb Madam Pomfrey this late.”
Dumbledore shook his head regretfully. “I’m afraid not, Severus. It is important that Madam Pomfrey sees you as soon as possible in order to reverse the effects of the hex you were hit with and ensure that it didn't cause any negative side effects,” he explained lightly, not wanting to frighten the child any more. The poor boy looked like he was about to be handed to Lord Voldemort himself.
“It was just a harmless hex, sir,” Severus began, his voice starting to rise in pitch as panic churned violently within him. “I really don’t think I should bother Madam Pomfrey with such a trivial—”
“Severus,” Dumbledore interrupted gently but firmly. “Everything will be okay. We will take care of you, child. Now let’s go, please.”
Severus swallowed hard and forced himself to his feet, desperately trying to hide his shaking form. Throwing a subtle glance at the headmaster, he walked as calmly as he could through the office door. Then, the instant the older wizard turned to shut the door behind them, he took off like the fastest racing broom in the world.
“Severus!” Dumbledore called, hastening after the frightened boy.
Severus ran blindly through the dark corridors, not risking glancing back to see if he was being followed. His ankle throbbed from a recent sprain he’d acquired when his father had shoved him down the stairs, but he ignored it as best he could. He didn’t care where he was running, as long as it was far away from the headmaster and the hospital wing. No one could find out. It was the number one rule.
Rounding a corner, the twelve-year-old crashed into something soft, the impact causing him to fall backwards. Hands grabbed him before he hit the floor, and the corridor was suddenly filled with light.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed at this hour, Mr. Snape,” a stern voice said.
Severus flinched and roughly jerked his shoulders free, inwardly groaning as he met his transfiguration professor’s disapproving glare. This really wasn’t his night.
“Ah, good evening, Professor McGonagall,” Dumbledore greeted, slightly out of breath as he came up behind Severus and rested a firm hand on his shoulder. “I was just escorting young Mr. Snape to the infirmary when we were separated.”
McGonagall’s eyebrow lifted slightly, then she nodded knowingly. “Of course, Headmaster. I wouldn’t want to keep you, then. Take care of yourself, Mr. Snape.”
Severus gaped at her in utter confusion as she gave him a small smile before briskly striding away. Was his transfiguration professor being impersonated by someone using polyjuice? He couldn’t imagine who would have the nerve and power to capture and impersonate the most intimidating professor at Hogwarts. But then, why had McGonagall acted so friendly, and why had she seemed almost… relieved to hear that he was going to the infirmary? It was impossible that she could suspect anything. He’d been meticulous in keeping his glamours up whenever he wasn’t behind the closed curtains of his bed.
He flinched when Dumbledore gently squeezed his shoulder, accidentally brushing against the tender area where a recently formed bruise lay.
“Let’s head to the hospital wing now. No more detours,” Dumbledore said quietly, having made a mental note of the boy’s reaction.
Severus flushed at the gentle rebuke and reluctantly trudged to the hospital wing, trying his best to hide his limp. He thought about running again, but he could tell that the headmaster was watching him like a hawk. When they reached the entrance to the hospital wing, he grudgingly allowed himself to be guided inside, knowing that it was pointless to try and escape while everyone’s attention was focused on him.
“Headmaster, Mr. Snape, what can I do for you?” Madam Pomfrey asked as she bustled out of her office, gesturing for Severus to take a seat on a bed.
“Madam Pomfrey, if I might have a quick word in private, please?” Dumbledore murmured.
“Of course, Headmaster,” the mediwitch agreed. “Mr. Snape, why don’t you change into a hospital gown while Professor Dumbledore and I have a quick chat.”
Severus nodded timidly, his heart in his stomach as the curtains were closed around his bed. He couldn’t hear what the adults were talking about, but he was sure that it didn’t bode well for him.
“What’s going on, Albus?” Poppy whispered after casting a muffling charm.
“I think you’ll need to check for glamours,” Albus requested in a low voice.
Poppy’s eyes widened in realization. “Minerva was right then. When she thought she saw bruises on his arms.”
The headmaster nodded gravely. “I believe so. I do not know who has been hurting him, but I am almost certain that he is hiding injuries. He flinched when I touched his shoulder, and he appears to have a sprained ankle.”
The mediwitch pursed her lips. “I’ll do an in-depth diagnostic scan, then. Let’s pray to Merlin that we don’t find anything else,” she muttered, canceling the charm and striding over to her patient.
Severus gulped anxiously as the buzzing was suddenly replaced with the clear sound of approaching footsteps. He was just about to make a break for it, consequences he damned, when the curtains were tugged open.
“Severus, dear, why didn’t you change into a hospital gown? Do you need help?”
Severus tensed and scrambled to his feet, backing away as the mediwitch took a concerned step forward. He didn’t need anyone to examine him! “I don’t need a checkup,” he insisted stubbornly. “I’m perfectly fine.”
Madam Pomfrey nodded agreeably. “Okay, Severus. Why don’t you come sit back down on the bed, just so we can make sure?”
The twelve-year-old hunched his shoulders and hugged his arms protectively around himself. “I don’t need a checkup,” he repeated.
The mediwitch eyed him sympathetically. “I know that this can be very scary, but we’re going to help you through this. But first, you need to let me see your injuries.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Leave me the hell alone,” Severus shouted fearfully as he pressed himself against the wall. His eyes darted around like a cornered animal as the two adults slowly approached him. He needed to get out of here. No one could find out. Ever. It was the number one rule. He couldn't break it!
“Severus, take a deep breath for me. It’s going to be okay, child.”
Severus didn’t respond, his energy solely focused on surviving as his instincts screamed danger. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. His legs made the decision for him, and he was bolting towards the door before he even knew it.
Straining for the doorknob, he had almost reached it when two strong arms suddenly wrapped around his torso, keeping him firmly restrained. No! He needed to get away. He needed to run. He needed to escape. He fought wildly, kicking and thrashing and screaming, but to no avail. A sharp pain dimly registered in the back of his mind, but he didn’t process what had happened until the familiar sensation of a calming draught flooded his body.
“No,” he whimpered desperately. A hand was gently stroking his head, murmuring soft, gentle comforts, but all he could focus on was the wand pointing right at him.
“Iniurias revelare.”
Before their eyes, a piece of parchment appeared, growing longer and longer by the second.
Severus’ secret was out.
Chapter Text
Albus’ expression darkened as he wordlessly skimmed through the child’s diagnostic results. The parchment was what he would have expected from a prisoner of war, not a twelve-year-old boy, for Merlin’s sake! Improperly healed broken bones, chronic malnutrition, extensive scarring, open welts… those were just a few of the many injuries the child was suffering from. How could he have never noticed that one of his own students was being abused?
“My dear boy…”
“Severus,” Poppy interrupted, throwing her colleague a warning glance. Ever the professional, her voice was calm and steady, and to the untrained eye, the slight trembling of her hands was imperceptible. “I’m going to need you to change into the hospital gown now, please.”
The child clutched at his clothes and vigorously shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.”
“I’m afraid it is a big deal, Severus. You have serious injuries hidden beneath your glamours, and you need to let me take a look at them,” the mediwitch ordered gently but with a firm tone.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Severus denied fiercely, not meeting her eyes.
“The scan didn’t lie,” Dumbledore commented somberly, kneeling down beside him with worry in his eyes. “Who did this to you, my boy?”
Severus glanced down at the parchment, and his already pale face turned even whiter. A pit of dread settled in his stomach, and he swallowed hard. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t run her typical diagnostic spell. This was his entire medical history, complete with every injury he’d ever received. “It was an accident. I fell down the stairs,” he insisted weakly, grimacing at how stupid that sounded. Judging from the adults’ skeptical expressions, they didn’t buy it either.
“Severus, these injuries are not from a mere accident,” Dumbledore pointed out gravely.
The twelve-year-old drew his knees to his chest and defensively wrapped his arms around them. He hated Dumbledore with his stupid questions and false pity. He just wanted to shut his eyes and pretend that tonight had never even happened. That he hadn’t been stupid enough to get caught by the old coot in the first place. “I want to go back to my dormitory.”
“I’m afraid we can’t let you leave yet.”
“Why not?” Severus demanded rudely. “I said I’m fine!”
“We need to know who did this to you. We just want to help you, my boy,” Dumbledore responded with a sorrowful look in his eye.
Severus scowled. The headmaster was a good actor, he would give him that, but he knew better than to believe the old man’s false pretense of care. No one cared about a worthless burden like himself. “There’s nothing to tell. I’m clumsy and get into accidents a lot, and that’s how I got those injuries.”
“My boy, I know that you are intelligent enough to know that your story is not believable in any way. We want to help you, but we can only do that if you tell us the truth.”
Severus bristled defiantly. “Fine, you want to know the truth? I got into a fight with the neighborhood kids who beat the shite out of me. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that good enough for you?” he spat. Kids got into trouble all the time, and there was no reason to think that his injuries were anything other than the results of a few rough tussles.
“I highly doubt you were getting into fist fights that ended in broken bones when you were two years old, my boy,” the headmaster replied quietly.
Severus clasped his hands tightly to hide their trembling, his knuckles turning white from the force. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
There was a heavy pause. “I can protect you, Severus, but you need to tell me who it is.”
Dumbledore’s voice was laced with sympathy, but Severus knew better than to believe him. His muggle primary teacher had promised the same protection, and the only result from telling the truth back then had been the worst thrashing he’d ever received in his life. The scars he still carried from that punishment were reminder enough to keep his mouth firmly shut.
Mustering up all of his defiance, Severus sneered at the headmaster. “Thank you for your generous offer, sir, but I’m afraid I must decline simply because there is nothing wrong. So, if you would please release me from the infirmary, I would like to go to bed now,” he bit out. Defiance had always worked in the past to make adults go away, easily assuaging their ‘moral responsibility’ concerns, and Dumbledore would be the same. Because adults would always leave, no matter how much they pretended to care at first.
“I think that’s enough questions for now, Headmaster,” Madam Pomfrey interjected. “Mr. Snape has injuries that need prompt attention. We can discuss this later.”
Dumbledore didn’t reply, and Severus inwardly relaxed, relieved that it seemed like the interrogation was finally over. Then, he heard the dreaded words.
“It’s one of your parents who’s been abusing you, isn’t it?”
No. Severus’ breath hitched in alarm as the words processed in his suddenly ringing ears. Too close. Dumbledore was too close to the truth. Never let anyone know. It was Tobias’ number one rule. No one could ever know. Distantly, he heard Madam Pomfrey berating the headmaster, but he was too caught up in his panic for it to register.
“Severus, sweetheart, come back to us,” a soothing female voice said. “That’s it, deep breaths now. No more questions, I promise. You’re safe here.”
A few choked breaths later, he opened his mouth, ready to viciously deny the headmaster’s accusation. Except he couldn’t. “I—” It came out as a croak, and the twelve-year-old furiously fought back tears, suddenly overwhelmed by an onslaught of emotions. He would not cry, he would not! He didn’t want to be the weakling that his father always said he was. But he couldn’t help the tears that spilled down his cheeks as he covered his face in shame, surrendering to his sobs. It was all just too much. He couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t.
A moment later, his world quietly faded to darkness.
Poppy sighed as she cast a sleeping spell on the child. The second year had clearly been having a panic attack, and it would be easier to heal the child’s injuries this way. Waving her wand, she transfigured the boy’s clothes into a hospital gown and gently rolled him onto his stomach. The welts on the twelve-year-old’s back would need to be healed first.
“Why would he not tell anyone, Poppy?” Albus questioned sadly. “Surely he knew that we would help him?”
The mediwitch sent him a withering glare. “Oh, is helping what we call interrogations these days?”
The headmaster winced. “I apologize, Poppy. I should not have pushed the boy so hard,” he murmured regretfully.
“No, you should not have. Abused children are in a fragile state of mind, especially when the truth comes out, and it is best that a trained professional handles the situation so as to not cause further trauma,” Pomfrey lectured.
Albus bowed his head in silent acknowledgement. Hogwarts had unfortunately seen a few cases of children from abusive homes during his tenure, but it was usually the student’s Head of House who facilitated the situation, not the headmaster. With Horace not showing any inclination to help young Severus, it would be his responsibility instead. “Would you like me to contact the Ministry Department of Child Welfare? I’m afraid I’m not very familiar with the protocol in this type of situation,” he admitted.
Poppy didn’t respond as she summoned a disinfectant potion and carefully applied it to her patient’s injuries. The welts had become infected, most likely because the young wizard had been unknowingly straining his magical reserves to maintain his glamours. While magic typically helped injuries heal faster, it seemed that Severus had not had any magic left to spare after applying glamours. She would have to make sure that the child knew how dangerous it was to expend his magic like that.
“Poppy?”
The headmaster’s quiet voice broke through her thoughts, and the mediwitch blinked, shaking her head. “I apologize, Headmaster. What did you say?”
“No worries, my dear. I was merely wondering if there is a protocol in place that should be followed.”
Poppy eyed him sharply. “The boy is being abused at home, Albus. That much is clear from his medical history. Whether it is his mother or father hurting him, I’m not sure. Perhaps both have participated, but even if one parent was a bystander, they are both responsible for either direct abuse or enabling abuse. Severus must be removed from his parents.”
“Doesn’t that seem rather drastic? Surely things would improve at home if—”
“Enough.” Poppy interrupted coldly. She wasn’t a mind healer by any means, but she knew from colleagues that abused children often lived their lives terrified of having their secrets discovered while simultaneously dreading never being helped. Too often, the latter occurred and the abuse stayed a secret until it was too late. So, in situations where the abuse was discovered in time, the mediwitch would stop at no lengths to ensure the child’s safety. “I will not let you handle this case if you refuse to see the truth just because the boy is a Slytherin, Albus. Do you understand?”
Albus paled, rather taken aback by this accusation. “I would never—”
“Your favoritism of Gryffindors and dislike of Slytherins is not a secret, Headmaster,” the mediwitch informed him with an irritated sigh. “You have always believed that families must love each other, but that is unfortunately not the reality for all children. You are especially blind to red flags when the student in question is a Slytherin. Severus is not safe with his parents, and while I know that you mean well, I am worried that the Slytherin emblem on the boy’s robes might cloud your judgement.”
The old wizard shakily sat down in a conjured chair, his expression pained. “I… I had no idea that I was favoring or discriminating against students by their house. I have always thought I treated my students fairly, but I have obviously failed,” he whispered.
“You have prejudices and implicit biases like all of us, Albus,” Poppy said quietly. “What matters now is how you choose to move forward.”
The headmaster wearily closed his eyes. “Thank you for enlightening me, Poppy. It is clear that I have a lot to reflect upon, and I will do my best to do better in the future.” There was a war growing, and he could not afford to alienate any students who might be swayed away from Tom. Severus already seemed to dislike him, but if he helped the child escape his abusive home, perhaps the boy would not see the Dark Lord as his only option.
“If you need any help, Minerva and I are always here,” Poppy reminded him. “I am sure that Minerva would be willing to assist you with Severus’ case. She seems to have taken an interest in the boy.”
Albus nodded gratefully, recognizing that the mediwitch was willing to give him a chance to do his best for young Severus. He would take his colleague’s advice and ask Minerva for assistance. It was only due to her diligence that they had discovered something might be wrong in the first place, after all.
“Per protocol, you will first need to contact the Department of Child Welfare and provide them with a copy of Severus’ medical scan,” Poppy instructed him. “They will conduct an official investigation and interview both of his parents separately. In most cases with minors, the medical scan and parents’ testimony is enough. The aurors in the department will then take over and handle the necessary arrests and trials.”
Albus nodded. “And what of guardianship once the school year is over?” He knew that in previous abuse cases, the child would temporarily become the ward of their Head of House during the school year, but he wasn’t sure what happened after that.
“That is something you will have to investigate, Albus. The Statute of Secrecy prevents muggles from adopting a magical child unless they already know about magic, so that leaves Eileen’s side of the family. You will need to contact any living wizarding relatives, and if the boy does not have any family members who are willing to take him, then he will enter the wizarding foster system,” Poppy said heavily.
Both adults exchanged a low-spirited look. It was well known in the wizarding world that the Prince Family had disowned their daughter for marrying a muggle, so it was unlikely that Severus would have any magical relatives who would take him. And while the foster system was certainly better than living in an abusive home, it wasn’t something that anyone wished for a child to experience.
“I will depart for the Ministry shortly,” Albus murmured after a moment of silence. Hesitantly, he reached down to gently brush the sweaty hair out of the young boy’s face. Years ago, he had failed a Slytherin named Tom Riddle. He did not want to make the same mistake again.
The next morning, Albus slipped into the hospital wing, careful not to wake the sleeping patients. Noticing that the mediwitch’s office door was slightly ajar, he quietly knocked, nodding in greeting when she gestured for him to enter.
“Well?” Poppy asked impatiently.
“The ministry has started an investigation, and Tobias Snape has been arrested for charges of child abuse,” Albus replied.
Poppy looked up sharply. “Not Eileen?”
Albus shook his head slowly, trying to collect his thoughts in a cohesive manner. The last thing he had expected when accompanying the Ministry social workers was to discover that Eileen had taken her own life a few months ago. He had hoped to help his former student if she was also being abused by Tobias, but from what he had gathered, she had loved the vile man and had refused to raise her wand against him. Severus had obviously suffered the price of his mother’s failure to protect him, and the authorities suspected that the guilt of loving her son’s abuser may have been what triggered Eileen to poison herself.
“Eileen died by suicide over the summer, Poppy,” he informed her gravely, eliciting a dismayed gasp from his colleague. “It was also discovered that she was not as cut off from the wizarding world as most of us had thought.”
“Merlin, she left a will, didn’t she?” Poppy breathed in realization. “A magical will.”
Albus nodded. “Indeed. I had made an appointment at Gringotts to determine if there were any Prince relatives who would be willing to take Severus, only to be informed that Eileen had reopened her vault, leaving only her will and a magically binding guardianship request inside of it.”
The mediwitch eyed him shrewdly, then a knowing smile spread across her face. Rising to her feet, she motioned for him to follow her until they were standing next to the sleeping twelve-year-old’s bed. “The boy hides behind a lot of anger and defiance, but deep down, he's just a child wanting to be loved. Go on, Albus,” she said softly, nudging him closer to the bed. “He’s waking up now.”
Severus yawned as quiet voices roused him from his sleep. Stretching his arms above his head, he was relieved to notice that he didn’t feel pain anywhere. His magic must have finally healed his injuries. Blinking sleepily, his brow furrowed in confusion as he realized that he was lying in the hospital wing. How in Merlin’s name had he gotten here?
“Good morning, Severus.”
The twelve-year-old bolted up in bed, his head snapping around to the source of the greeting. Dumbledore . Memories of what had happened the previous night rushed back to him, and he flushed with humiliation. It was because of the old coot’s stupid meddling that he was in this mess.
“Leave me alone.” He scowled when the headmaster ignored him, instead reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone that your mother had died, my boy?”
Severus glared and wrenched his arm out of the meddling wizard’s grasp. What an idiotic question. Like there were any adults whom he could trust at the school. Slughorn wouldn’t have cared, and it wasn’t like he could confide in Gryffindor-loving Dumbledore. And none of the other professors had any reason to care about him.
“I am sorry for your loss and what you have had to suffer through, my boy,” Dumbledore continued when he didn’t respond.
“I don’t need your pity, sir,” Severus retorted bitingly, a scowl on his face. He absolutely hated it when people looked down on him because he was poor or had an alcoholic father. So what? Lots of kids didn’t have a happy home life, and it wasn’t like his situation was even that bad. “Can I go back to my dorm now?”
The headmaster sighed. “We have some important matters to discuss first, my boy. First of all, you should know that your father is being dealt with and has been arrested for child abuse.”
Severus’ eyes widened. Child abuse? He wasn’t abused. Why in Merlin’s name had Tobias been arrested for child abuse? Sure, his bastard father’s punishments hurt like hell, but it was a father’s prerogative to discipline his son as he saw fit. Besides, Tobias only gave him what he deserved for being a worthless burden. There was no way the charges would stick, and once his father was released, he was going to be absolutely livid with his ungrateful son for breaking the number one rule. And it was all Dumbledore's fault.
“Why couldn’t you have kept your damn nose out of my business?” he burst out, trying to hide the slight tremor in his voice. He was absolutely terrified. His father was literally going to beat the life out of him the moment he walked through the door at Spinner’s End.
“Mind your language, young man,” Dumbledore chided lightly.
Severus ducked his head and hunched his shoulders submissively, inwardly berating himself for losing control. Only a dunderhead would further antagonize the headmaster. Dumbledore had the power to expel him, and then he’d be sent back to his father forever. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that anyone would stand up for him if the headmaster decided that he’d had enough. “Sorry, sir.”
Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement. “Your father will be facing a heavy sentence in prison, so you need not worry about him. He will never lay a hand on you again.”
The twelve-year-old quietly scoffed in disbelief. He had no doubt that Tobias would call in some favours from his gambling buddies to bail him out, and then his father would track him down and make him wish he’d never been born. And it’s not like he had any magical relatives who would protect him from Tobias. The Prince family certainly didn’t want anything to do with a dirty half-blood, and those were the only blood relatives he had.
Outwardly, however, he only nodded. He was handling things just fine, and he didn’t need anyone else’s interference. Dumbledore had already meddled enough. “If that’s all, can I please go back to my dormitory now, sir?” he asked hopefully in his most respectful voice.
“Not quite yet, my boy. There’s one last thing to discuss. Are you aware that your mother left a magical will?”
Severus’ eyes widened momentarily before his expression darkened in realization. A magical will meant that his mum must have visited the wizarding world and Gringotts before she’d died. Clearly, she hadn’t been as averse to using magic as she’d pretended to be, considering she had always refused to heal his injuries after a lashing. But… but maybe his mum’s will would explain why she’d always left him at the mercy of his father.
“I didn’t know she had, sir,” he responded quietly. “May I see it?”
“I don’t think that your mother was quite stable, my boy. There are parts of the will that I don’t think you should read,” Dumbledore wavered.
“Please, sir, don’t I have a right to read my own mother’s will?”
After a moment of hesitation, the headmaster reluctantly acquiesced and took a rolled-up piece of parchment out of his robes. “Just remember what I said, please.”
Severus nodded and took the parchment from the headmaster with a trembling hand. This had to be it. The explanation he’d been waiting for since the thrashings had started at age two.
The Last Will and Testament of Eileen Snape née Prince
It is my hope that this letter will be discovered before my son comes of age, but if not, then I must apologize for the delay. Severus, I want you to know that your father is a good man who only wants the best for you, even though his methods of discipline and fondness for alcohol have made life more difficult for you than it had to be. He has made a lot of sacrifices for you, and it is true that you’ve always needed a firm hand. Your father wasn’t always like this though, you must understand. Before you were born, we were living happily together. Your birth was an accident a surprise, but I was hopeful that things would be fine until you started displaying accidental magic at age two. That was the breaking point for your father, but he dealt with it as best he could, and I couldn’t blame him for how he reacted. Our life had been perfect together before the constant threat of accidental magic, and I still love him dearly despite his faults.
The twelve-year-old smiled bitterly at that. Even in death, his mum still defended Tobias’ treatment of him. It seemed that she really did believe he’d deserved the punishments his father had given him. He was a burden who had ruined their happy marriage.
“My boy, despite what your mother may have written, your father’s abusive behaviour was not excusable in any way,” Dumbledore insisted, watching him with concern.
Severus didn’t respond. Dumbledore’s delusions didn’t matter. He knew the truth, and his mum’s words had confirmed it. Ignoring the headmaster’s quiet sigh, he continued reading. The rest of the will was fairly repetitive, although his mum had requested that her “old friend Minnie accept the role of her son’s honorary godmother.” Apparently, his mum had wanted to ask this Minnie person to be his godmother at birth, but she’d known that Tobias wouldn’t have approved, so it had never become official. He vaguely wondered who this woman was, but it didn’t really matter. No one wanted to be saddled with a burden like him if they could avoid it. Having finished, he wordlessly placed the parchment beside him.
“Finished, my boy?”
Severus nodded. “Yes, sir. Do you know who this Minnie person is that my mum asked to be my honorary godmother?”
“Ah yes, that would be Professor Minerva McGonagall, known by her childhood friends as Minnie.”
An expression of pure shock crossed the child’s face. “McGonagall knew my mum?!”
“Indeed, my boy,” Dumbledore confirmed with a smile. “They were close friends at Hogwarts until your mother lost contact with the wizarding world. Minerva was deeply saddened to hear of your mother’s passing, but she was delighted to hear that she’d been named your honorary godmother. I am sure that she will request to speak with you at some point in the near future.”
Severus bit his lip. McGonagall would probably just give him her sympathies, and that would be that. It wasn’t like an honorary godmother was expected to fulfill the responsibilities of an actual godmother. Not that it actually mattered, since his father would be out of jail soon enough. Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask what was planned for him. “Will I be sent to an orphanage at the end of the school year, sir?”
The headmaster shook his head, eliciting a confused frown from the twelve-year-old. He knew that McGonagall wouldn't want to take him in just because she’d known his mum. And his mum had refused to have him reinstated as the Prince heir, so none of those relatives would want anything to do with him. “If I’m not going to an orphanage, then where will I go during the summers?” he asked, puzzled.
“Well, in the case that a magical child no longer has a magical guardian, a student will become a temporary ward of their Head of House while a foster home is being found,” Dumbledore explained.
Severus grimaced. He really didn’t want to be Slughorn’s ward, temporary or not. At least the wizard would leave him alone though, so maybe it wasn’t too bad.
“However,” the headmaster continued, drawing Severus’ attention back. “Your mother did complete the paperwork for a magically binding transfer of guardianship, should something happen to your father.”
Severus stared at Dumbledore in horror. She’d done what now? “W-Who did my mum assign?” he managed to choke out. His eyes widened as the headmaster silently tapped his wand against the parchment, revealing a final paragraph followed by two signatures.
“Your mother named me as your guardian, and I have accepted her wishes,” Dumbledore said quietly. “You are now officially my ward.”
Severus could only gape at the headmaster in utter disbelief.
Bloody hell.
Chapter 5
Notes:
“Adults are rejecting or intrusive. So when I meet you I will avoid or ignore you, and look after myself. I won’t be asking for help no matter what I face. Love? Care? Why would I trust you? You have no idea what I need.” - Bomber, L. (2007) Inside I’m Hurting. London: Worth.
Chapter Text
It was the first Saturday after learning of his mother’s will that Severus found himself reluctantly trudging to the headmaster’s office. Despite acquiring a new guardian, not much had changed within the past week, and he had been mostly left in peace to process things. Lily had been delighted to hear the news, and although Severus shared her relief in regard to Tobias’ arrest, ‘delighted’ was not the word he would use to describe his new guardianship. His mum had known that he didn’t trust Dumbledore, but she’d still tossed him to the wolves, or rather the lions in this case, and left him to fend for himself in unknown enemy territory.
Fortunately, after Severus had expressed his thoughts quite clearly, his new guardian had eventually agreed not to interfere in his life more than was strictly necessary. After all, he was twelve-years-old, not some helpless child. He was perfectly capable of looking after himself. And it didn’t matter that the headmaster had looked rather sad and regretful. This pretense of caring wasn’t going to last forever, and Severus knew better than to allow himself to indulge in a fantasy that would only make reality even more painful when it inevitably returned.
He hadn’t managed to avoid his guardian’s interference completely, though. At the end of Dumbledore’s hospital wing visit, Severus had been informed that they would be going shopping on Saturday, and that he should make a list of the things he needed. Hence, why he was currently standing outside of the headmaster’s office, a piece of parchment in his hands that listed the only belonging he could afford to replace: a pair of socks.
“Come on in, my boy,” Dumbledore called cheerfully at his hesitant knock.
Severus pushed the door open, his eyes widening slightly as he saw McGonagall there as well. “Erm, good morning, Professors,” he mumbled.
“Good morning, Severus,” McGonagall greeted with a warm smile. “Now that you’re my godson, there’s no need for formalities when it’s just us. You are welcome to call me Minerva, if you’d like.”
Severus nodded awkwardly, purposefully not meeting her eyes. Dumbledore had granted him the same permission, but there was no way he would be calling them Minerva or Albus any time soon. That was just weird, not to mention dangerous. He didn’t want to earn himself a punishment for disrespect if he messed up and used the wrong title in a situation. His father had always demanded that Severus refer to him as “sir,” and forgetting to do so would result in a painful lashing.
“I see you’ve brought your list of the things we’ll need to pick up. May I see it, please?” McGonagall asked, holding out her hand expectantly. Her eyebrow rose in disbelief as she glanced down at the parchment. “The only item you need is one pair of socks?”
Severus nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Surely there are at least more articles of clothing that you’d like to purchase?”
Severus silently shook his head and forcibly bit back a retort. Of course, there were more items that he would love to have, such as a pair of shoes that actually fit, but it wasn’t like he could afford them, for Merlin’s sake! He had spent all of his summer job earnings on his second-hand school books, and convincing someone to illegally hire a scrawny twelve-year-old for hours of daily manual labor had certainly not been easy.
“My boy, I am sure that you need more clothing than a single pair of socks,” Dumbledore disagreed with a frown. He had seen the quality of the clothing the boy wore, and it was more than lacking. “You will need three new everyday robes, seven pairs of trousers and shirts, a pair of dress robes, pajamas, and new undergarments, at the very least.”
Severus barely refrained from snorting in response. Did the old man think he was loaded with galleons? What an absolutely ludicrous suggestion—he’d never even owned that much clothing in his entire life, so it clearly wasn’t necessary. “The clothes I have are perfectly adequate, sir.” His cheeks burned with humiliation as both professors glanced at his outfit with barely hidden distaste. So they happened to be a few inches too short, and maybe there were a few patched spots and loose threads, but they would serve their purpose until he was able to learn mending and lengthening charms.
“I’m afraid I must disagree, my boy. You will pick out a new wardrobe today,” Dumbledore ordered firmly.
“And I’m afraid I must decline, sir,” Severus responded stiffly, his fists unconsciously clenching.
“It is not an option. You need new clothes, and you will have them.”
Severus shook his head again, valiantly trying to control his anxiety. He only had two knuts left to his name; obeying simply wasn’t a possibility. “I’m sorry, sir, but my answer remains the same,” he insisted flatly, keeping his expression as impassive as possible.
“That’s enough, young man,” McGonagall interjected with a hint of impatience. “I see absolutely no reason for your obstinance, so unless you’d care to share, you will stop this behaviour at once.”
That was his cue, and turning on his heel, Severus bolted for the door. He was going to get punished no matter what he did, so he might as well delay the inevitable for as long as he could. Just as he reached the door, a jet of light shot past his shoulder, slamming the door shut. Severus stopped short, his breathing ragged as he defeatedly tried the doorknob. It was locked.
“Just let the boy go, Minerva,” came a tired muttering.
“Honestly, Albus. We will discuss this later,” McGonagall hissed quietly. “As for you, young man. Turn around, please. Running away isn’t going to make the problem go away.”
Bracing himself for a smack, Severus resignedly obeyed, his body tensed for the blow. He tilted his head in confusion when the transfiguration professor merely gestured him over to the couch. “P-Professor?”
“Sit down, please, Severus. Now, why don’t you explain to us the real reason why you’re refusing to go shopping.”
Severus ducked his head and sank lower on the couch. Maybe he wasn’t getting hit this time, but the adults had still won. He had no choice but to accept his humiliation. “Idonthaveanymoney,” he mumbled.
“Excuse me?”
Severus flushed. “I said, I don’t have any money,” he ground out through gritted teeth.
“Why, my dear boy,” Dumbledore exclaimed, sounding appalled. “I am certainly not expecting you to pay for your new things! I will be covering all of the costs as your guardian.”
Severus eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want in return?” he asked bluntly.
“What do you mean?” Dumbledore asked, sounding confused.
“Why would you be nice to me if you don’t want anything in return? What is it? Do you want me to brew, or…” Severus’ face scrunched up in thought. What could Dumbledore possibly want from him? The hospital wing’s potions supply cupboard was already stocked as a result of his detentions with Slughorn—his original suspension had been replaced with a week of detention—so unless the headmaster wanted specific potions brewed, there wasn’t anything left that he could do.
“My boy, I do not want anything in return,” Dumbledore responded, his blue eyes lacking their customary twinkle. “I am your guardian now, and it is my job to ensure that your needs are met. Surely you understand this?”
Severus shrugged with feigned indifference, making sure to keep his eyes trained on his ratty shoes. Nothing was free in life; he knew that, but if Dumbledore insisted on keeping up this facade, then he would just have to hope that the cost wasn’t too high when the debt was due.
“Well then,” Dumbledore cleared his throat, looking a bit confused. “I unfortunately have Ministry business to attend to this morning, so Minerva will be accompanying you to Diagon Alley. I am sure you two will have a lovely time together,” he finished with a smile.
Severus nodded, trying to stamp down on the niggling feeling of rejection that blossomed from the subtle rejection. He knew that this would happen, so it was foolish to expect anything else. It was inevitable that he would somehow mess up, and now it would be a gradual process of Dumbledore finding excuses to relinquish guardianship and send him back to Tobias. This was just the first step. Because adults always left him, even if they pretended to care.
“Come along, Severus,” McGonagall called, gesturing him over to the fireplace. “We’ll floo together, just in case. Remember to speak clearly now.”
Taking a large pinch of the offered floo powder, Severus stepped beside the professor and glanced up for permission. Receiving a nod, he opened his hand. “Diagon Alley!”
They vanished in a burst of green flames.
The streets were quiet that morning, something that both Severus and Minerva were relieved to discover. Their first stop was Madam Malkin’s, the place where most students purchased their school robes. Severus had never actually been inside the store before, having only bought two pairs of second-hand robes from a shop in Knockturn Alley before his first year at Hogwarts. He had gone shopping with the Evans family since his mum had refused to go, but luckily Mr. and Mrs. Evans hadn’t known enough about the wizarding world to prohibit his venture into Knockturn.
As Severus followed the professor into the shop, the front door bell chimed, announcing their entrance to a short witch dressed in mauve clothing.
“Minerva, what a lovely surprise!” Madam Malkin greeted with a friendly smile. “What can I do for you today?”
“Good morning, Madam Malkin,” McGonagall said. “Severus here will need to be fitted for a full wardrobe today, please.”
The witch nodded in understanding. “Of course. Step onto that footstool, dear, and I’ll have your measurements done in a minute.”
Severus silently obeyed, standing awkwardly as a tape measure floated around him. Three everyday robes, seven pairs of trousers and shirts, a pair of dress robes, pajamas, and new undergarments—those were Dumbledore’s orders, and he would heed them to the letter. It was confusing, he thought, that his new guardian had insisted on buying him clothes. His father had certainly never offered to buy him anything, and his mum had never gone against his father’s will. Perhaps it was a Gryffindor trait? Dumbledore had mentioned that he was fulfilling his duty, and Gryffindors were known for their chivalry and all that. It was a shame that Potter and Black had missed the memo.
“You’re all set, young man,” Madam Malkin announced, interrupting his musings. “Why don’t you go pick out the clothes that you’d like, and I will have them tailored and ready for pickup in a few hours. Or if you would prefer, they can be owled to you.”
“Thank you, Madam Malkin. If you could send them via owl, that would be much appreciated,” McGonagall answered, nudging him forward. “Go on, Severus. Pick out whatever you’d like.”
With a bit more encouragement, Severus tentatively started browsing the shelves. Focused on picking out exactly what Dumbledore had listed, he didn’t notice his new godmother subtly observing him.
To any passerby, the boy’s insecurity was evident by the hesitant manner in which he handled the clothes. It was almost as if the child thought he would ruin them with his touch alone, Minerva thought sadly. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be surprised if he did believe something of the sort. While she didn’t know the full extent of Severus’ abuse since the report was classified until Tobias Snape’s trial, she had seen the boy’s medical scan, and the results had only increased her determination to protect her young student. It was a disgrace that Eileen had allowed her husband to abuse her son; her childhood friend had clearly changed after marrying, and not for the better. At least the woman had asked her to be Severus’ honorary godmother. Whether it was legally binding or not, a magical will was highly respected in the wizarding world, and being the boy’s godmother would give her the perfect excuse to spend more time with him.
“I’m finished, Professor,” Severus announced quietly, his selections neatly folded in a basket.
Minerva nodded approvingly, seeing that the boy had picked out all of the necessary items. “Excellent. You should be all set for clothes now. Next on the list is a pair of shoes, I believe. Madam Malkin sells an adequate shoe selection, but if you don’t find something you like, we can always visit another store.”
Heading towards the shoe section, it took her a moment before she realized that the child wasn’t following her. “Severus? Is something wrong?” she asked with a concerned look.
The young Slytherin looked uncertain. “Professor Dumbledore didn’t mention shoes before.”
Minerva smiled reassuringly. “There’s no need to worry. Albus wants you to have everything that you need, even if he only mentioned the clothes before. I think your current shoes might be a bit small, so this is the perfect opportunity to purchase a pair that fits you better.”
The twelve-year-old bit his lip but hesitantly nodded, and Minerva continued leading the way to the shoe section. She hadn’t expected the child to take Albus’ words quite so literally, but children rarely interpreted things the same way adults did, so perhaps that was to be expected.
“Do you know what your correct shoe size is?”
Severus nodded without looking up as he sat on the floor, trying on a pair of black trainers with an emerald green trim. “Could I maybe get these?” he asked, chewing nervously on his lip. “It’s okay if they’re too expensive, though. I can get the plain ones. They’re much cheaper. Actually, I’ll just get those.”
Minerva reached out and gently stopped the boy from picking up the other shoes, her heart clenching at his worry. No child should have to concern themselves with money for necessities, especially if it wasn’t a financial hardship for the adults. “If you like the black and emerald trainers, then we’ll get those,” she told him firmly. Receiving a shy duck of the head but no objection, she took his response as acceptance and continued. “Now then, the last thing you’ll be needing is a warm pair of boots for the winter. While it isn’t too cold yet, you should be prepared in case the temperature drops early this year.” She looked expectantly at her godson, waiting for him to continue browsing, but he didn’t even budge.
“I don’t need winter boots!”
The transfiguration professor frowned, a bit taken aback by the forceful refusal. She hadn’t missed the child’s eyes longingly roaming the shelves where the winter boots were displayed. And she sincerely doubted that Severus had good quality shoes to keep his feet warm. “I must insist, Severus. The castle grounds can get very cold during the winter, and I won’t have you frolicking around with mates with freezing feet.”
“I rarely go outside during the winter, so there’s no need for your concern,” Severus countered belligerently, his arms crossed.
Minerva pursed her lips. Hopefully she could nip this obstinacy in the bud before it became an argument. “If this is about the money, you needn’t worry. Albus is more than happy to provide you with anything you might want or need. And you happen to need winter boots.”
“Winter boots weren’t on the list,” the twelve-year-old insisted stubbornly.
“Not originally, but they have been added. Come now, Severus. Even if Albus didn’t approve of you buying winter boots, which is not the case, then I would be more than happy to buy—”
“I don’t need your bloody fucking charity!”
It was only due to decades of teaching experience that the transfiguration professor managed to stifle her shock with the mere arching of an eyebrow. Gone was the sensitive, insecure little boy, and in his place was a hollering, fist-clenching, cursing preteen. What in Merlin’s name had just happened?
Minerva wracked her brain, trying to remember what Poppy had told her to expect from abused children. Her colleague had definitely mentioned something about outward defiance being used to hide internal fear and vulnerability. She had said that it took very little to set an abused child off because often they had been forced to become hypervigilant in order to survive; anything that could possibly be interpreted as a threat was met with a fight, flight, freeze, flop, or friend reaction. Severus was clearly demonstrating the first survival instinct, but what in Merlin’s name was the threat in this situation?
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she willed herself to stay calm. “I will not tolerate that sort of language, young man,” she admonished sternly. The child seemed to shrink back slightly in response, so she continued, encouraged that he was listening. “If something is bothering you, then we can discuss it, but I do not want to hear those curse words coming out of your mouth again, understood?”
The twelve-year-old silently nodded, subconsciously wrapping his arms around himself in a comforting manner. Adults were never kind to him, and it scared him that he didn’t understand what his professor’s motive was.
“A verbal answer, please,” Minerva requested, her tone softer. It was evident that her godson was frightened, and while she wouldn’t condone his disrespectful attitude, she also wanted to gain his trust.
“Yes, ma’am,” Severus mumbled, his gaze averted to the floor.
“Good lad,” Minerva said, gently squeezing his shoulder. The boy flinched, but she didn’t remove her hand until he’d relaxed. “Do you want to explain why you’re so against buying winter boots? Don’t you want to have warm shoes for playing in the snow with your friends?”
The child hesitated. “I-It’s too much,” he finally whispered almost inaudibly. “I’m not worth it.”
Minerva’s heart thumped painfully, and she found herself at a loss for words. She had thought that this had only been about money, but it was evidently connected to Severus' sense of self-worth as well. What kind of horrible person would tell a child that they weren’t worthy of basic necessities like winter boots?
Kneeling down, she softly took his hands in hers. “Severus, please look at me.” The small boy reluctantly raised his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “That is not true, do you hear me?” she insisted. “Whoever told you that was lying. You are absolutely worthy of necessities like winter boots and the comforts that all children should have.”
The young boy shook his head vehemently, his face scrunched up in anguish. “No, stop saying that! It’s not true, so stop trying to trick me!” he yelled, stomping his foot.
“Severus, this isn’t a trick. You are worthy—”
“Shut up! Shut up, and stop lying to me!”
“Severus—”
“Please.”
Minerva stopped short and closed her eyes, the child’s half-sobbed plea ringing in her ears. She had known that accepting the role of Severus’ honorary godmother wouldn’t be easy, but she hadn’t realized just how unprepared she was. How in Merlin’s name was she supposed to help this abused little boy begin to heal?
“Very well,” she began hesitantly, “We don’t have to talk about it anymore, but I’m not going to let you freeze during the winter, so I’m going to give you a choice.”
Choices were supposed to be good, from what Poppy had told her. While children couldn’t be given unending choices for obvious reasons, letting them choose between smaller things was supposed to help them feel safe and more in control. And for an abused child like Severus, having a sense of safety and relative autonomy was essential.
“What kind of choice?” a timid voice asked.
Minerva took her godson’s hand and gently tugged him over to the shelves. “You don’t have to get winter boots, but running around the castle with cold feet isn’t an option. So, if you don’t want the boots, then you can get these winter socks that are specifically charmed with long-lasting warming spells,” she offered, looking at him sincerely.
Severus chewed on his lip, his eyes darting back and forth between the boots and the socks. “I—I’ll get the socks?” he asked, sounding as if he expected her to override his decision.
“Socks it is then,” Minerva confirmed, giving the child a reassuring pat on the shoulder. One battle down, only a million left to go, she thought sardonically.
“Are we done now?”
“I think we are,” Minerva agreed, hiding a small smile at the very hopeful tone. She had originally planned to stop by the cosmetic store and pick up a special shampoo for greasy hair, but that was obviously out of the question now. They had already had a difficult day, and the professor was intimately aware that most pre-teens had very fragile pride and self-esteem. Severus would undoubtedly react poorly to any insinuation about his hair, so at this point, it would be easier to simply owl-order it and have it delivered.
“Let’s go check out with Madam Malkin,” she said, nodding towards the register. “And then we can return to Hogwarts.”
Severus lay on his bed, the curtains closed tightly around him as he reverently stroked the soft fabric of his brand-new pajamas. It had quite possibly been the most confusing, overwhelming day in his entire life. Not only had Dumbledore paid for an entire new wardrobe, but he’d also gotten new shoes and winter socks! He had never even owned a new piece of clothing before, as all of his previous clothing had come from charity shops or his father’s cast-offs, but now everything he had was new. It was simply mind boggling.
McGonagall had also treated him with more patience and kindness than he had ever experienced from an adult before. Even when he’d lost control and fearfully waited for her to smack him for his outburst, all she had done was lightly scold him. Then, she’d told him that his father had been wrong about his worthlessness, and she had even let him choose between winter socks and boots! And she’d actually respected his decision! Tobias had sometimes liked to pretend to give him a choice between the strap and the cane, but then the man would just give him a dose of both for his insolence.
But McGonagall had been genuinely nice to him, and he didn’t know what she could possibly want in return. He was a worthless, ungrateful burden, even if the professor didn’t realize it yet, and there was nothing he had to give in exchange for her time and kindness. It just didn’t make sense because it had almost seemed like she’d cared about him… No. He couldn’t let himself get attached to the first adult who showed him kindness. Especially one who wasn’t even his legal guardian. McGonagall didn’t have a single reason to stick around, and he knew that she would leave as soon as she realized how worthless and useless he was.
He supposed it didn’t matter, though. After all, none of this could be real, right? No adult would actually be nice to him in real life. This was a dream, and when he woke up, he would find himself wearing his regular oversized shirt, complete with rips and tears. It was a wonderful dream, truly, but that was all it was. It couldn’t be anything else.
Chapter Text
Severus was rummaging through his trunk for his study materials when he heard the loud footsteps of his dorm mates coming up the stairs. Shoving his notes into his book bag, he straightened up and hurried for the door. He had a meeting with Lily planned, and he didn’t want to be late because of his annoying peers.
Muttering a greeting as Mulciber and Avery walked in, Severus brushed past them, only to find his path abruptly blocked at the door. The leader of their group, Rosier, was standing in the doorway with a menacing look on his face.
“We want a word with you, Snape.”
Severus bristled and scowled defensively. “What is it, Rosier? I don’t have time to help you with potions right now, if that’s what you want,” he snapped, his eyes flitting to the wall clock. He was already running a few minutes behind.
“There’s a rumour going around that Dumbledore took over your guardianship. Mulciber, Avery, and I want to know if it’s true,” Rosier demanded, his arms crossed.
Severus eyed his dorm mates warily. All three were from prominent pureblood lines, and any connection with the ultimate blood traitor would not be looked upon favourably. The only reason he was even tolerated in Slytherin as a half-blood was because of his potions knowledge.
“Well? Is it true or not?” the other boy repeated impatiently.
Seeing no way to deny the truth, Severus nodded curtly. “Yes, Dumbledore is unfortunately my new legal guardian. I can assure you that it was not my decision.”
“Consorting with mudblood lovers, really? Makes me wonder if you’re even still one of us,” Mulciber scoffed, looking disgusted.
“Sounds like you’ve already turned traitor to the Dark Lord,” Avery added with a snarl.
Ignoring his lackeys, Rosier smirked maliciously and leaned forward. “Malfoy and Bellatrix won’t be happy to learn that you’re under the old man’s thumb, Snape.”
Severus stiffened at the implied threat, his fingers instinctively twitching for his wand. Viciously clamping down on his reaction, he stopped himself just in time. A duel against three boys who were trained in the Dark Arts by their parents and private tutors would only end badly for him. He knew a few nasty curses, but not nearly as many as they did.
“Nothing to say, Snape?” Rosier mocked.
Mustering his best sneer, Severus shook his head. “I was merely taken aback by your accusations that I would feel anything but pure loathing for Dumbledore,” he retorted tersely. “While I may have the misfortune of a legal connection to the blood traitor, I am not influenced in any way by the Gryffindor-loving fool.”
“If you say so,” Rosier drawled haughtily. “See that it stays that well, or you’ll pay for your betrayal. Malfoy may favor you as his little half-blood pet, but Bellatrix won’t hesitate to teach you your proper place.”
Severus didn’t bother responding. He knew enough about Slytherin to know that this was an ultimatum. He would be watched, and if a change in his loyalty was suspected, they would drag him to Slytherin House’s leaders for judgement. “If that is all?” he questioned indifferently, his expression betraying nothing. It would be best if his housemates received the impression that he was unbothered by their threats.
Rosier’s lip curled unpleasantly. “Address us properly, and then you can go, half-blood.”
Severus’ fists clenched in humiliated fury, but he gave a short bow to each boy as pureblood etiquette demanded when addressing someone of a Noble House. “Heir Rosier, Heir Mulciber, Heir Avery,” he gritted out.
The other boy smirked. “Glad to see you haven’t forgotten how to treat your superiors, Snape. You’re dismissed.”
Severus barely managed to maintain his composure as he whirled around and slammed the door behind him, the sniggers of his dorm mates ringing in his ears. He absolutely loathed it when the lower ranks of the Slytherin hierarchy were unstable, because that meant his egotistical, arrogant year mates tried to elevate their own positions by humiliating him. Most of the time, Rosier, Mulciber, and Avery were fairly tolerable and generally accepted him into their cohort, but then there were moments like this where they were just as bad as Potter and Black.
“Hi Lily. Sorry I’m late,” Severus greeted tiredly as he arrived at their secret meeting place. Slipping his satchel off of his shoulder, he slid down the wall next to his friend and took out his books.
“It’s okay,” Lily smiled at him. “Mary and Alice are covering for me, so we still have an entire two hours to study and catch up.”
Severus stilled and arched an eyebrow. “Do they know that you’re meeting with me?”
Lily shook her head. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell.”
“Well that explains it,” Severus snorted in wry amusement. “I would be rather surprised if any lions were so willing to help you hide your secret rendezvous with an evil Slytherin.”
“Oh, c’mon, Sev,” Lily protested with a playful shove. “That’s not true, and you know it. The girls are much more sensible than the boys about house stereotypes. But I know that you still want to keep our friendship a secret, so I told Mary and Alice that I was meeting up with a friend, and they agreed to cover for me.”
Severus smirked knowingly. “They think you’re on a date, don’t they?”
“They do not!”
“Uh huh. Sure, whatever you say.”
“Shut it, or I’ll hex you,” Lily threatened, her cheeks turning slightly pink.
“I don’t know,” Severus drawled with a cheeky grin. “I’m sure Macdonald and Fortescue will be eager for details from your date, and I would hate to disappoint the imaginations of your friends.”
Lily huffed. “You are absolutely ridiculous.”
“Oh, tell us everything, Lily,” Severus mimicked in a high female voice, fluttering his eyelashes. “Was he nice? Did he kiss you? Did you—Hey, no fair!” he whined at his best friend who was innocently tucking her wand away.
“Is something the matter?” Lily inquired angelically as if she hadn’t just sent a light stinging hex his way.
Sticking out his tongue in retaliation, Severus pouted when his best friend merely giggled in response. “You take away all my fun,” he lamented dramatically.
Lily rolled her eyes. “You’ll get over it. Enough about me, though. I want to hear all about your shopping trip with Professor Dumbledore! You should’ve seen Potter’s face when he saw you walk into the Great Hall with brand new robes and silky hair,” she grinned.
The potions prodigy forced a smile. “Not such a greasy git anymore, am I?” While he was grateful for the new shampoo and conditioner that had appeared with his belongings, no doubt sent by McGonagall, he also knew that not having greasy hair anymore wouldn’t be enough to stop the marauders from bullying him.
“I’m sorry they’re so mean to you, Sev,” Lily said softly, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I had thought that Dumbledore taking over your guardianship might mean that he would put an end to it.”
Severus shrugged self-deprecatingly. “He doesn’t really have a reason to, does he? He’s already paid for my new clothes, so he’s fulfilled his duty. Being my legal guardian doesn’t mean he has to care about me.”
Lily’s eyes flashed with indignation. “It most certainly does! If he accepted your guardianship, then it’s his responsibility to act just as a proper parent would, and that means more than just providing for you financially. Hasn’t he at least asked to meet with you so that you can get to know each other better?” she exclaimed.
“No, he hasn’t. But it doesn’t matter,” Severus sighed, leaning his head against the wall.
“It does too matter,” Lily fumed. “How dare he treat you just like any other student when he should be acting in loco parentis!”
The dark-haired boy smiled, touched that his friend cared about him so much, even if he didn’t deserve it. “It’s okay, Lily. I actually asked him to limit his interference, so he’s really just respecting my wishes.” And that was true. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that any adult would want to keep him, so the safest thing to do was to push Dumbledore away before he could get hurt. And the headmaster seemed perfectly content to ignore him, so it was clear that the man had only taken him in as a charity case.
“Are you sure, Sev? I’d be happy to give Dumbledore a piece of my mind, if you’d like. I’m sure he would find my Bat-Bogey Hex quite impressive,” Lily offered with a grin.
The two children giggled at the thought of the powerful headmaster cowering before a twelve-year-old girl, bats flying out of his nose.
“Thanks, but I don’t want you to get expelled for attacking the headmaster,” Severus laughed. “After all, what would I do without my best friend?” he finished sincerely.
Lily smiled softly and maneuvered them so that his head was resting against her shoulder. She was taller than him by a few inches, so her head easily rested on top of his. “Tell me more about your shopping trip, Sev. Did anything exciting happen?”
Severus leaned against her comfortably, telling his friend everything that had happened. How McGonagall had actually been the one to take him shopping, and how she hadn’t yelled at him the whole time, even when he’d lost his temper and cursed at her. “I was sure that the entire day had been a dream, but when I woke up the next morning, I realized that everything I thought I’d imagined had actually happened,” he murmured. “I’ve never had an adult treat me so nicely before.”
Lily listened to her friend’s story with a heavy heart. It was painful to hear how amazed and grateful Severus was just because an adult had been kind to him. She had always suspected that her childhood’s friend’s father was a nasty man, but it had only been a couple of weeks ago that Severus had confided in her and admitted that his father had been arrested for child abuse. She had been horrified to learn that her friend had hidden his bruises from her with muggle makeup, but she was beyond relieved that the bastard was now in jail where he could no longer hurt her best friend. Dumbledore taking over Severus’ guardianship had filled her with hope, but it seemed that it was only her house of house who was actually making sure that her friend was taken care of properly.
“I’m glad to hear that Professor McGonagall treated you as an adult should treat a child,” she responded quietly.
Severus silently nodded. He was grateful for the professor’s kindness as well, but he knew better than to hope that it would last. McGonagall wasn’t his guardian, and being an “honorary godmother” was just a title with no obligations attached, so she really had no reason to treat him differently from any other student.
“We should probably get started on our homework,” he suggested, glancing at the time. “Do you want to start with potions?”
Lily smirked, knowing full well that he preferred to procrastinate on his weakest subjects for as long as possible. “Alright, Sev,” she agreed, “but we need to at least start McGonagall’s assignment afterwards. You’re not getting out of your transfiguration essay that easily.”
Severus gasped in mock affront. “Why, Ms. Evans, I am appalled that you would accuse me of such a thing!” he cried.
Lily poked him playfully. “Shut it, you. Now tell me, Mr. Potions Prodigy, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”
It was the last period of the day, and Severus was hurrying towards the transfiguration classroom. Tardiness was not accepted by Minerva McGonagall, and any student who was late to her class would face an automatic detention.
He was only a few corridors away when he felt someone yank the back of his robes and swing him into the nearest wall. His body slammed against the stone, the impact knocking the breath out of his lungs.
“In a hurry, Snivellus?” Black’s voice taunted.
Severus fought back furiously, but the larger boy easily got the upper hand. In an instant, Black had him pinned against the wall, his wand clattering uselessly across the floor. “What do you want?” he snarled, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.
The Gryffindor bared his teeth in a smile, an unhinged look in his eyes. “I’ve seen you skulking around with Evans, you slimy Death Eater, so I’m here to warn you. Leave her alone, or you’ll be sorry.”
Unable to punch or kick, Severus spat in Black’s face causing the other boy to rear back in surprise. Seeing his chance, he lunged for his wand, only to land flat on his face as a tripping jinx hit him from behind.
“I don’t think so, Snivelly,” Black taunted.
Severus desperately scrambled to his feet, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the ropes that flew from the other boy’s wand. “Let me go, you bastard!” he hollered, genuine fear in his voice as Black casually leaned over his bound body and picked up his wand.
“Don’t think you’ll be needing this for a while,” Black smirked, pointing it at him. “Silencio. Wingardium Leviosa.”
Severus’ eyes bulged in horror as his own wand was used to levitate him into the nearby broom cupboard. Black wouldn’t dare, would he? He let out a silent groan of pain as he was roughly lowered, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
“Have fun, Snivellus. I better get going,” Black sing-songed, slamming the cupboard door shut. “Wouldn’t want to be late for transfiguration.”
The echo of footsteps soon faded into silence, and Severus was left alone in the utter darkness that enveloped him. Black was an utter bastard, but his spell work wasn’t shoddy; he was truly trapped in the cupboard until someone opened the closet or the Gryffindor took mercy on him. But… but what if no one ever came? What if he was trapped in here forever?
The twelve-year-old’s pulse started to race, his heart pounding against his rib cage like it was trying to break free of its prison. He was going to die. He just knew it. He had almost died when he’d been five and his father had locked him in a trunk in the cellar as punishment. His mother had found him just in time; if he’d been in there much longer, he would have suffocated.
Was he already starting to lose oxygen? He let out a gasp as he felt the sensation of being squeezed. The room was shrinking on him, getting smaller and smaller. He fought desperately for air, but his lungs were quickly losing the battle. A tingling feeling danced its way through his body, and a wave of nausea rushed through him, leaving him weak and dizzy. Numbness settled in his hands and feet, and his vision swam. The drumbeat in his chest accelerated faster and faster by the second until he could no longer distinguish between beats. Only a loud roaring in his ears could be heard. Then… darkness.
Something was constricting his movement. That was the first thing Severus noticed as he tried to sit up. Confused, his eyes snapped open, only to find his vision obscured by a veil of black. Where the hell was he? The light sound of nearby footsteps drew his attention, and memories instantly rushed back to him. Black attacking him, getting locked in the cupboard, his panic attack… Black. He was going to absolutely murder Sirius Black once he escaped from the damn cupboard. The marauders had always bullied him, but this was a new level of viciousness.
Sudden light flooded the cupboard, and Severus squinted against the brightness, trying to see who had opened the doors.
“Wow mate, you weren’t kidding,” Potter gaped, peering down at him in surprise.
Black sniggered. “Snivellus deserved it. Almost lurking around Lily and studying the Dark Arts. He’s nothing more than a Death Eater in training.”
Potter shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Best not let Remus know about this. He’d go ballistic, even if it is Snape. Toss him his wand, Siri, and let’s go down to dinner.”
Severus heard the clatter of his wand hit the floor, and the door slammed shut again. Ignoring the muffled laugh, he inched around as much as his bonds allowed, breathing a sigh of relief when his hand closed around a familiar piece of wood. Without wasting a minute, he quickly freed himself and burst out of the cupboard.
“You’re bloody insane, Black!” he hollered down the corridor as his enemy turned around and smirked.
“You’re just lucky I remembered you, Snivellus,” Black mocked. “Was it scary for the poor, snivelling baby?”
Severus’ vision went red, his mind blank except for the burning need for revenge. "Ossio Dispersimus!” A jet of sickly purple light flew from his wand, on track to connect with the other boy’s leg, when it suddenly dissolved against an invisible field of magic. A shield charm. How had Black possibly managed to react so quickly? Second years didn’t even know the shield charm. It was almost as if someone else—
“What in Merlin’s name is going on here?” a cold, furious voice demanded.
Severus’ head snapped around, cold dread filling his body as his eyes met the Head of Gryffindor’s. “P-Professor McGonagall.”
A flash of concern crossed the transfiguration professor’s face. “Mr. Snape, you are bleeding.” She flicked her wand, and his nose straightened with only a slight twinge, the blood vanishing. “Now, would any of you three boys care to explain this situation?”
“It was all Sniv—I mean, Snape’s fault, Professor. He tried to curse Sirius!” Potter insisted.
Severus clenched his fists and scowled. Of course, Potter and Black would try and blame everything on him so that they could get away scot-free.
“If Mr. Snape was the only one to raise his wand, then why did he have a bloody nose?” McGonagall questioned, her eyes boring into her lions’ guilty faces.
“It was an accident,” Black finally responded, recognizing that his head of house wasn’t going to let the matter go. “I was just defending myself, really! I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
Severus barely refrained from snorting. If Black hadn’t actually meant to hurt him, then he would eat his cauldron. Judging from McGonagall’s expression, she didn’t find the explanation very convincing either.
“Mr. Snape, Messrs. Black and Potter have told me their side of the story. What is yours?” McGonagall asked, her gaze calculating.
The twelve-year-old glared at the Gryffindors. He would never admit that he’d been weak enough to let Black lock him in the closet, but he would tell the professor the truth about his broken nose. “Black hit me with a tripping jinx from behind, Professor.”
McGonagall’s lips thinned. “I see. Mr. Black, you will serve detention with Mr. Filch this evening at 7pm. Mr. Potter, since you do not seem to have been involved in any spellcasting, I will let you off with ten points from Gryffindor for attempting to pin all of the blame on Mr. Snape for this incident.”
The two lions looked dismayed but wisely stayed silent, accepting their punishment without protest. Severus shifted nervously, knowing that his sentence was coming next.
“Now then, off to supper with both of you,” McGonagall said, shooing them away.
“But what about Sni—er, Snape’s punishment?” Black whined. “He tried to curse me with the Dark Arts! He should be expelled!”
“No, I-I didn’t mean to!” Severus protested frantically. “Please, Professor—”
“Mr. Snape will be serving detention with me this evening, Mr. Black,” McGonagall cut in.
“But aren’t you going to expel—?” Potter began.
“The details of Mr. Snape’s detention are none of your concern and vice versa, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall snapped. “Now head to the Great Hall immediately, or it’ll be twenty points from Gryffindor.”
Both boys scurried off, leaving the two of them alone. Severus swallowed thickly as he felt the professor’s burning gaze evaluating him. The Dark Arts were strictly forbidden at Hogwarts, and the bone breaking curse was most definitely classified as Dark. McGonagall would be well within her rights to demand his suspension at the very least, if not expulsion for attacking another student with that spell. There was a reason why it was a favorite of the Dark Lord’s followers, and many aurors had lost their lives to it.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” McGonagall finally asked.
Severus shook his head. “No, ma’am,” he whispered weakly.
“Then follow me to my office, and we will speak there.”
Chapter Text
Severus struggled to hide his trembling as he trailed behind the professor, silently berating himself. How could he have been so utterly stupid as to use a lethal spell in the middle of the school corridor? What if he did end up expelled, and Dumbledore sent him back to his father? Would they at least obliviate Tobias so that he didn’t remember it was Severus’ fault that he’d been arrested?
“It is dinner time now,” McGonagall announced, jolting him from his thoughts, “so we will first eat our meal together, and afterwards, we will discuss why you missed my class and your impermissible spell usage.”
The dark-haired child awkwardly took a seat across from her, surprised but grateful that she was bothering to feed him. His father had certainly never bothered with such niceties before a punishment.
“Tibby,” McGonagall called. “Dinner for two, please.”
Severus jumped in surprise as a house elf appeared a moment later with two heaping plates, each containing a large serving of shepherd's pie, a sausage roll, a generous portion of peas, and Yorkshire pudding.
“Thank you, Tibby,” the professor nodded, dismissing the elf. “Do start eating, Severus. You don’t want your food to get cold.”
Severus hesitantly picked up his fork, anxiety washing over him as he surveyed his plate. Even after a month at Hogwarts, his stomach hadn’t fully recovered, so he was still very limited in what foods he could digest. With a quick glance at McGonagall, he started with the peas, knowing that they contained the least fat.
“You must be the only twelve-year-old boy at Hogwarts who eats his vegetables without being prompted,” McGonagall commented with an amused smile. “But don’t forget about the rest of your food. You’re a growing child, so it’s important that you get enough protein.”
Severus silently nodded and obediently nibbled on the sausage roll. His stomach instantly rebelled, and he quickly put it down. There was no way he was going to risk emptying his stomach on McGonagall’s fancy, expensive-looking rug.
“Is something wrong?” the professor questioned, eyeing him with concern.
“No, ma’am. I’m just not very hungry this evening,” he lied.
McGonagall pursed her lips. “Madam Pomfrey said that you are extremely underweight and need to gain at least eight kilos. Please try to eat a little more,” she requested firmly.
Severus inwardly sighed before slipping his hand into his robe pocket where he kept his wand. He would just have to wait until McGonagall looked away so that he could vanish some of the shepherd’s pie. His chance came a second later when the professor’s gaze flitted back to her own meal. “Evanesco,” he breathed almost inaudibly. It didn’t work.
“I saw that, young man. Don’t let me catch you trying to vanish your food again, or I’ll confiscate your wand for the rest of the evening,” McGonagall warned. “It’s very important for your health that you eat a sufficient amount.”
Severus balled his fists in agitation. He knew that his stomach couldn’t handle any more food, but he also wasn’t willing to admit that because then McGonagall would know his humiliating secret. And if there was one thing that Severus hated, it was being vulnerable. “I said, I’m not hungry,” he repeated, an edge to his voice.
“Severus, five spoonfuls of peas are not enough nourishment for a growing boy, especially one who is already underweight,” McGonagall countered. “Even if you’re not hungry, you need to finish at least half of your plate.”
“No. I’m fine,” he hissed through gritted teeth, trying in vain to suppress the familiar burning sensation sweeping through his body.
McGonagall placed her fork down and leaned back to survey him. “Something is clearly bothering you,” she said quietly, “but I can’t help you unless you talk to me.”
Severus’ nails bit harshly into the palms of his hands as red-hot fury churned inside of him like a thunderous storm. The only thing bothering him was her annoying, insistent nagging! He didn’t need any stupid adults lecturing him about his eating. He could take care of himself just fine. Stubbornly clamping his mouth shut, he sent McGonagall his most vicious glare.
“Very well,” the professor sighed. “If you don’t wish to explain, then you will eat half of your dinner, and not a bite less.”
Severus’ temper exploded.
“Why don’t you sod off and mind your own damn business,” the twelve-year-old hollered, his chair toppling over with a loud screech. “You’re not even my guardian, so you can't tell me what to do!”
“Cease this behaviour at once, or you’ll be serving another detention,” McGonagall said sternly. “While I may not be your guardian, I am still your godmother and professor, therefore you will obey me.”
Scowling darkly, Severus crossed his arms. Why wouldn’t she give up this stupid facade of acting like being his honorary godmother actually meant something? She had no legal obligations towards him besides professorial duties, and they both knew it. And the longer she pretended otherwise, the harder it was going to be for him when she did decide to leave. Because while McGonagall was harder to drive away than most, she’d give up on him soon enough, just like the rest of them. Adults always left.
“I don’t see you eating your dinner, young man.”
That was it. A spark of rebellion lit inside of Severus, and his eyes blazed with defiance. He was done playing this stupid game, but if she wanted to continue, then he would show her just how awful of a godson he could be. That would make her give up the act already.
With a lofty smirk, he leaned forward in challenge. “Make me.”
"Severus," McGonagall began.
“What are you going to do, huh? Shove food down my throat and—”
“Watch yourself, young man. You are treading on very thin ice right now,” the professor warned in a dark tone.
The twelve-year-old bit his lip, his defiance wavering at the implied threat. Maybe he should stop pushing now. But he could tell by the tightening of McGonagall’s jaw that she was close to losing her temper, and once she did, she could quit her stupid facade of pretending like she cared about him. Maybe just one more smart remark, then he’d stop.
“Eating is non-negotiable,” McGonagall continued, oblivious to his internal debate. “You will eat half of your dinner now, or—”
Before he could even process what his hands were doing, Severus had snatched up his place and hurled it against the wall, the unmistakable sound of a shattered dish echoing in the room.
Sudden silence.
Fuck. What had he done? Severus’ hands started to tremble as he desperately tried to mask the rapidly growing terror inside of him. “I—I didn’t mean,” he stuttered fearfully.
“That’s enough,” McGonagall interrupted. “Corner, now,” she ordered strictly, pointing at a bare corner of her office. The child would do well to realize that while she might be sympathetic to his situation, she was not above disciplining her charge when he needed it. And her godson certainly seemed determined to test her. “Do not make me ask again, young man,” she warned.
Severus didn’t move as he blinked at the professor in bewilderment, wondering if maybe he’d heard incorrectly. Why on earth would McGonagall want him to stand in the corner for his beating? He was obviously going to get one—there was no doubt about it given the stunt he’d just pulled. But his father had always preferred that he bent over a table or chair, as that was easily the most effective position for administering a good thrashing.
“I will count to three,” McGonagall said in a low tone, drawing his attention back. “One…Two...”
The twelve-year-old mutely opened and closed his mouth, confusion mixing with fear. “I… I don’t understand,” he whispered, looking lost.
McGonagall rose and gently but firmly took the boy’s arm, ignoring his flinch. Steering him to the corner of the room, she turned him to face the wall. “You are going to plant your nose in this corner until I tell you that you can remove it,” she told him firmly.
Severus blinked, his mind taking a few seconds to process what was happening. Then, it struck him. “I'm twelve, not two!” he protested indignantly. “You can’t put me in time out.” He started to turn, but the professor still had a steady grip on his shoulders, so he didn’t get very far.
“If you would like to avoid a time out in the future, then I suggest you act your age instead of throwing a tantrum like a toddler,” McGonagall advised. “Now. you will stand here, and you will do so quietly, until I tell you otherwise."
“But—”
“No arguments, young man. That type of behaviour is not acceptable in this family.” Resting a hand on the back of Severus’ head, McGonagall firmly guided it so that the child was facing the corner again. Once it seemed that the boy would do as he was told, she removed her hand and went to sit behind her desk.
Severus let out a small, indignant huff, wriggling in protest before growing still again when McGonagall pointedly cleared her throat behind him. This was stupid. It wasn’t fair that she was giving him such a babyish punishment, especially when she wasn’t even his real godmother! A small voice in his head pointed out that McGonagall had referred to him as family, but he quickly shut it down. She had merely been using an expression. Not even his actual guardian wanted to keep him—that much was clear from Dumbledore’s actions. Sure, he didn’t want the man to interfere with his life, but the headmaster barely even looked at him these days. So if his parents and his guardian didn’t care about him, then there was absolutely no reason for McGonagall to care. Which meant that this kindness and concern was all fake. It had to be. He kicked the wall angrily, slightly satisfied by the scuff mark his shoe left behind.
“Do you want me to extend the time, young man?” McGonagall questioned, the warning evident in her tone.
Severus scowled and forcefully shook his head, sullenly resuming his position. His father had never made him stand in the corner before a beating, and he didn’t like this addition one bit. What was he even supposed to do? Have an epiphany by staring at a chunk of stone? This was pointless, and he was determined to prove it.
Except he couldn’t. He couldn’t prove it because time passed so excruciatingly slowly in that stupid corner that Severus swore it must’ve been charmed that way. Every minute felt like an entire hour, and by the time fifteen minutes had gone by, he’d been forced to reevaluate his opinion. Because this was agonizing in an entirely different way from a thrashing. His legs were restless and stiff from standing still for so long, and he was bored to death of staring at the same two walls. Worst of all, McGonagall was grading papers behind him like nothing was wrong, and it was perfectly normal for a young adult like himself to be standing with his nose pressed into the corner like a bloody toddler.
Inwardly sighing in resignation, the twelve-year-old watched out of the corner of his eye as a glob of shepherd’s pie slowly slid down the wall. He winced as it hit the floor with a dulled splat. Okay, so maybe throwing his dinner across the room in a fit of temper hadn’t been the most mature behaviour. It wasn’t that unreasonable that McGonagall was making him stand in the corner before his actual punishment. And having to wait for his thrashing did make it worse.
Severus guiltily bit his lip. He had wanted to test and maybe cross the line, yes, but instead he had messed up big time and completely trampled it. He had no idea what he’d even been thinking when he’d flung his plate across the room, but he knew that his behavior had been despicable. He should have been beyond grateful that McGonagall had allowed him dinner, but instead he’d behaved exactly like the spoiled brat that his father always said he was.
A warm hand landed unexpectedly on his shoulder, and he flinched. Turning his head, he saw that McGonagall was standing next to him.
“You can come out now, Severus.”
Severus nodded and apprehensively obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut as he braced himself for the impact of the strap. But the pain never came, and instead he found himself being guided back to his chair.
“Take a seat, please.”
Somewhat dazed, Severus wordlessly sat, his thoughts whirling in confusion. McGonagall was almost acting as if his only punishment for his abominable behaviour was the time out, but that couldn’t be right. He’d been bad, and bad freaks like him deserved to get thrashed. Maybe she was just waiting until later when she punished him for missing her class and trying to curse Black?
“Now then,” the professor began calmly. “Would you care to explain why you hurled your plate across the room like an upset toddler?”
“I… I didn’t mean to, honest! I just lost control,” he admitted in a small voice. “A-Aren’t you going to punish me?”
McGonagall looked at him oddly. “I don’t believe an additional punishment is necessary. The twenty-minute time out seemed a fitting consequence for your temper tantrum, so I see no reason to reprimand you further.”
“Oh,” Severus whispered, slumping in relief as tension drained from his body. He knew that he didn’t deserve the professor’s leniency, but he was grateful for it nevertheless.
“I do, however, wish to know why you were so vehemently against eating your dinner this evening,” McGonagall prompted.
Severus averted his gaze to his knees, the tips of his ears turning pink. He’d already messed up enough that night, so he might as well tell the truth now. “I… I can’t eat rich foods, or I’ll throw up,” he mumbled shamefully. A flash of anger crossed McGonagall’s face, and he fearfully shrank back in his seat. “I’m sorry! It won’t happen again, I swear!”
“I’m not angry with you,” McGonagall assured him quickly. “I’m upset because that tells me you weren’t being regularly fed over the summer.”
The twelve-year-old shrugged half-heartedly. “It wasn’t that bad. There were usually leftover scraps that I could pinch after my father ate. Besides, lots of kids have it worse than me,” he pointed out. He shuffled nervously when the professor’s gaze only darkened. Was she angry at him for whinging about it? He hadn’t meant to sound ungrateful!
“Severus, look at me, please.”
The second year hesitantly met her gaze.
“What your father did was wrong,” McGonagall told him gravely. “It is never acceptable to deprive a child of food when it could be shared instead. You should not have had to depend on your father’s leftovers for your own meals.”
Severus frowned. “Sometimes he’d let me have a small portion of his plate if I’d behaved that day. But usually I was bad, so it was my own fault for being a brat,” he explained, not wanting to give her the wrong impression.
McGonagall let out a strangled sound before closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. Would it be considered assault if her animagus form happened to visit the Ministry holding cells and found a mouse to play with?
“Severus,” she began slowly. “A child’s daily food should never be taken away as a consequence for misbehaviour. Denying a child the right to eat every day is abuse, and that is what your father was doing to you. Do you understand?”
The twelve-year-old bit his lip, feeling rather conflicted. On one hand, his father had repeatedly told him that ungrateful brats like him didn't deserve nice things like food. But Lily had always seemed aghast when they’d been small and he’d mention not having eaten for a day or two. And now his professor was saying that his father had been abusing him. He knew that the abuse part wasn’t true, but maybe his father should have fed him more often?
“It’s okay if you don’t understand yet,” McGonagall said with a sad smile, “but I hope that you will someday. I will make a note to talk with Madam Pomfrey about the best course of action to take, but for now...” She flicked her wand, and a vial flew into her hand. “Please take this nutrient potion. If you’re unable to eat any more food tonight, then at least you'll still have some nourishment in you.”
Severus obediently gulped down the potion, his face scrunching up at the revolting taste. He fervently hoped that Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t make him take any more nutrient potions because they were absolutely disgusting. “Eurgh,” he gagged, setting the vial down.
The professor’s lips quirked up. “Not the most pleasant taste, I’m afraid.”
A silence fell between them, and McGonagall leaned back in her chair, contemplating how to best address the confrontation she’d witnessed that afternoon. Fortunately, she had arrived in time to prevent her godson’s curse from hitting young Mr. Black, otherwise Severus would be facing immediate suspension without question. As it was, the matter was not to be taken lightly, but at least she was afforded more flexibility in dealing with the situation.
“I believe it’s time we discuss the consequences of your spell usage today,” she said at last, adopting her strict demeanor as deputy headmistress. “Ossio Dispersimus, otherwise known as the bone-breaking curse, is classified by the Ministry as a Category 3 Dark spell. While its counter curse is taught to OWL students in Defense Against the Dark Arts, the curse itself is strictly forbidden in Hogwarts due to its lethal nature. Explain yourself.”
Severus ducked his head. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I was just really angry, and… it slipped out,” he offered weakly.
“It slipped out,” McGonagall echoed, clearly unimpressed. “Tell me, Severus, where did you even learn this curse that I know for a fact is only mentioned in books from the Restricted Section?”
The twelve-year-old shuffled nervously. “Erm, my mum had some books on the Dark Arts that I brought with me,” he mumbled.
McGonagall’s lips thinned. “I expect all of them to be sitting on my desk first thing tomorrow morning. You will also write a fifteen-inch essay on why the Dark Arts are forbidden, to be handed in by the end of the week, is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Severus confirmed reluctantly. He knew that he shouldn’t be studying the Dark Arts at such a young age since his magical core was still developing, but that didn’t mean he was happy about giving up his books. Every Slytherin knew at least a handful of Dark curses, and giving away his resources meant that he would fall behind his peers.
“I must say, I’m absolutely appalled by your use of such a spell against a classmate. I know that you and Mr. Black have a rather adversarial relationship, but that is no excuse for casting a bone-breaking curse on him. If an instance like this happens again, the consequences will be severe,” McGonagall warned sternly.
“He started it,” Severus mumbled in weak protest.
“It does not matter who started it, Severus. What matters is that your spell choice could have resulted in a fatality today,” McGonagall said gravely. “Do you understand this?”
Severus lowered his eyes, not wanting to meet the professor’s disappointed gaze. He knew that she was right. If Black had attempted to dodge the spell, or if he’d aimed improperly, he could have easily killed his classmate. “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”
“I am relieved to hear that. Now, while there is no excuse for actions, I do wonder if something else occurred that prompted you to react so strongly to a tripping hex. Something that I am unaware of,” the transfiguration professor mused, observing him shrewdly. “Perhaps it is related to why you were missing from my class this afternoon?”
“That’s none of your business,” Severus exclaimed impulsively, his cheeks hot.
“It’s none of my business why were you absent from my class?” McGonagall drawled with a raised eyebrow.
Severus swallowed hard but stubbornly clamped his mouth shut and crossed his arms, jutting out his chin. There was no way he’d ever admit that he’d been too weak to defend himself against Black, and he certainly wasn’t about to confess to panicking in the cupboard like a baby.
“Very well,” McGonagall sighed. “If you wish to be petulant, then you can write lines until you feel like sharing.”
The twelve-year-old visibly bristled at being called petulant, but the professor ignored him. Summoning a scroll of parchment and a quill, she placed it in front of him. “You will write, I will not practice the Dark Arts because they are addictive, lethal, and damaging to my magical core. It’s up to you how many lines you’ll write. You may stop when you’re willing to cooperate.”
Severus set his jaw and wordlessly dipped the quill in the ink, determined not to give in. McGonagall was a Gryffindor, so surely she would only make him write a hundred lines or so before dismissing him. This was just an empty threat. After all, she couldn’t keep him in her office forever, right?
The first hour passed with relative ease, and aside from the occasional twinge in his right hand, Severus was stubbornly content to maintain his silence. It was when he’d passed 150 lines that he started to worry. Glancing at the clock, he calculated that he had been writing lines for about two hours, and by now, his hand was definitely starting to cramp.
“Keep writing, young man, unless you’d like to tell me the truth about what happened this afternoon?”
Severus inwardly groaned. Minerva McGonagall might be the Head of Gryffindor, but this was most definitely a Slytherin punishment at its finest. Gritting his teeth, he resolved to keep writing. I will not practice the Dark Arts because they are addictive, lethal, and damaging to my magical core. He could do this, he repeated to himself, ignoring the painful cramping in his hand. Surely she’d stop him soon.
Unfortunately, by the time he’d reached 250 lines, he could barely hold his quill anymore, and the professor still showed no inclination of dismissing him. Sighing in defeat, he stopped writing and tenderly cradled his aching hand below the desk.
“Well?” McGonagall said expectantly.
Severus’ shoulders slumped. “Black hexed me with a body binding and silencing spell and then locked me in a broom cupboard without my wand,” he admitted in a mumble. He was too tired to keep the secret any longer.
McGonagall’s nostrils flared. “I see. Rest assured, he will be dealt with appropriately.”
The twelve-year-old nodded, not even having the energy to smirk at Black actually being punished. “Yes, Professor. May I please go now?” he asked. It was almost curfew, and he really just wanted to go to bed and rest his throbbing hand.
“One moment.” The transfiguration professor reached into a drawer and pulled something out. “Let me see your hand, please.”
Warily, Severus held out his hand, wondering if she was going to smack it with a ruler like his muggle primary teachers often had. Instead, his eyes grew wide as the professor gently took his hand and tenderly applied a soothing cream. Almost instantly, he felt his muscles and tendons relax, relieving his hand of all discomfort. She had… healed him. His eyes suddenly filled with unshed tears. She had healed him. His honorary godmother had taken away his pain—the only adult who had ever cared enough to do so in his entire life.
“There, that should feel better now,” McGonagall declared, giving his hand a gentle pat. “You know, Severus, I’d been just about to give up and dismiss you, so thank you for telling me the truth first and saving me from having to admit defeat,” she winked conspiratorially.
Severus’ jaw dropped, stunned disbelief temporarily overcoming him. “But… you… you’re a Gryffindor!” he spluttered.
McGonagall chuckled. “It is rare that one embodies only the traits of their Hogwarts house,” she said lightly, rising from her desk and guiding him to the door. “Come along, now. I’ll walk you back to your dormitory.”
As he waved goodnight to the professor outside of the Slytherin common room, Severus felt a small flicker of hope bloom inside of him. He knew that it wouldn’t last, and he was being foolish to even let it exist, but he couldn’t help it. That evening had been the first time he had ever felt truly cared for by an adult. And as he crawled into bed, he knew that he would give almost anything to experience that feeling again.
Chapter 8
Notes:
A/N: Please review the tags before reading this chapter.
Chapter Text
He dreamed of the night when he had discovered her pale figure lying lifeless on the bed, an empty vial beside her…
“Mum?" The boy shook the woman’s shoulder roughly, desperately willing her to respond. “Mum, wake up, please!”
No movement.
Severus’ gaze fell on the small glass vial resting in her hand, and he quickly snatched it up, searching for clues. Giving it a cautious whiff, he immediately recognized the scent. His legs collapsed beneath him, and he crumpled to the floor, gasping as if the air had been knocked out of him. His mother had poisoned herself.
“BOY! Get your worthless arse over here right now!” an angry voice roared.
Severus didn’t move, his father’s order barely registering as he stared at his mother’s limp form. It was too late for a bezoar. She was gone. The woman who had birthed him and given him magic was dead.
“Freak, if your ungrateful arse isn’t in here making my dinner in five seconds, you’re gonna get a thrashing you won’t forget,” Tobias bellowed from down the hallway.
The twelve-year-old felt hot anger stirring inside of him, betrayal and resentment quickly replacing initial shock and sorrow. His mother had always left him at the mercy of his father’s discipline, always refusing to raise her wand against her husband no matter how much her son had begged. But now, she had completely abandoned him, daring to escape herself while leaving him to fend for himself. And in the way that children’s schemas of the world develop, Severus tucked away two conclusions that day—the first was that he was not worthy of love, and the second was that adults would always leave.
Hearing his father’s angry shouts still demanding his presence, the child pushed himself to his feet and strode out the door, not even glancing back. Sentimentality was a weakness that he could not afford if he was to survive. Emerging from the bedroom, he was met with a meaty fist grabbing him around the neck and slamming him against the wall. His vision briefly danced with darkness before focusing on the enraged man in front of him.
“Did ya not hear me calling ya, you worthless piece of shite?” Tobias growled, smacking him across the face. “What the hell were ya doin’ in my room, anyway? Stealing like the filthy scum that you are?”
Severus’ hand automatically came to rest against his stinging cheek, his eyes watering from the harsh impact. “No, sir. I wasn’t stealing,” he choked out.
Tobias snorted and roughly shoved him into the kitchen. “Lying piece of shite. I outta throw you out on the streets,” he muttered drunkenly. “I want fish and chips for dinner, boy, and you can forget about eating tonight. Useless trash doesn’t deserve food.”
The twelve-year-old silently obeyed and took out a pan, ignoring the throbbing pang of hunger in his stomach. He had burnt his father’s bacon that morning by accident, so he’d been denied breakfast and lunch as well. “Would you like one filet or two, sir?” he asked, opening up the fridge and taking out the wrapped fish.
“Two,” Tobias grunted, reaching for the TV remote. “Where’s Eileen, boy?”
Severus’ shoulders tensed.
“Answer me, boy!” the man snarled impatiently.
“M-Mother is dead, sir. I f-found her in your room just now, l-lying on the floor. S-She k-killed herself,” he stuttered in a whisper. He fearfully stumbled away as his father menacingly stalked towards him, backing up until he hit the counter.
“What did you say, boy?” Tobias hissed, the strong scent of alcohol on his breath.
“S-She’s d-dead, sir.”
A loud, enraged roar echoed through the house followed closely by the panicked scream of a young child. Tobias had harshly lifted the boy up by the neck and thrown him face down over the table, forcing him to bend at the waist.
Severus trembled in terror as he felt his threadbare trousers ripped off and heard the telltale jingle of a belt buckle being undone. He’d taken plenty of beatings before, but he had never seen his father as furious as he was now.
“You bloody worthless freak!” his father hollered, lashing the belt down with full force on the boy’s quivering backside. “She’s dead because of you!” he punctuated with another vicious lick. “You’ve ruined both our lives with yer miserable, ungrateful existence, and now you’ve driven Eileen to an early grave.”
The twelve-year-old cried out with each searing stroke of the strap, his cries quickly turning to sobs. Even while drunk, his father knew how to administer a dreadful thrashing, and soon he was writhing in pain. “Please sir, I’m sorry,” he pleaded, begging for a mercy that he knew would never come.
“You killed her, boy,” Tobias snarled, an insane glint in his eyes. "And I’ll make you pay , if it’s the last thing I do."
Severus shot up in bed, a shrill scream escaping his lungs. It took him a moment to realize that he was safe in the Slytherin dormitory, his usual silencing charm cast around him. Untangling himself from his sweaty sheets, he pulled his knees to his chest and dropped his head down, his hair creating a dark curtain. His shoulders shook in quiet sobs as the rest of the memory replayed in his mind.
Tobias had said that it was his fault that his mum had killed herself, and he knew deep inside that it was true. He was a worthless burden, and he ruined everything around him. He’d ruined his parents’ lives, and he was certain to ruin more with his unworthy existence. Dumbledore was smart to stay as far away from him as possible. He was a burden, and no one in their right mind would ever want a horrible brat like him. Certainly, the headmaster wasn’t pleased to have a worthless child thrust upon him. He had come across his guardian in the hallway the other day, and the man had actually turned around to avoid him, muttering something about going the wrong way. Only McGonagall seemed to care for him a little, but it had been a week since his detention with her, and they hadn’t had any other interaction besides lessons since then. And that made sense. He had driven his own mother to her death, so why would anyone else want to spend time with an unlovable burden?
But a small part of him still yearned for love, and he hated himself for that. He hated being so weak as to crave his guardian's attention and acknowledgement, even if that attention was the bad kind of attention. Because as long as he at least had Dumbledore’s attention, maybe someday he’d have the good kind as well.
No. He had to stop this. Dreaming of things that he would never have, like a parent’s love, would only end in him getting hurt. No one would ever love him because he was unlovable. A waste of space and money. A worthless burden whom the adults would always leave.
Severus squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenched as he tried to drown out the stupid flicker of hope inside of him. He wasn’t worthy of anyone’s love no matter how much he wanted it. He had killed his own mother—he deserved the thrashings his father had given him because even if they had hurt, he needed the pain to atone for being a useless burden who everyone despised, himself included.
Slipping out of his bed, the twelve-year-old quietly opened his trunk and took out his potions knife, studying the glinting blade in the light of the moon. He had scratched himself before, pulling at his hair and leaving nail marks on his skin, but he had never used a blade before. But things were different now, and if his father wasn’t there to give him what he deserved, then he would have to punish himself.
His mind made up, Severus climbed back into bed and tugged the curtains closed around him, just in case any of his dorm mates woke up. They wouldn’t understand, and he wouldn’t be able to explain. Pulling his pajama bottom leg up, he lightly ran his hand over the pale, unblemished skin of his left upper thigh. No one would ever notice if he hid his dirty secret there. Grasping his knife, he braced himself and drew a thin line across his leg.
A gasp escaped his lips. It stung fiercely, but there was also a feeling of relief, like the tension and turmoil battling inside of him were slowly leaving in the droplet of crimson that ran down his thigh. He drew another line, and this time the cut was deeper.
Severus took a deep breath, confronting the pain that somehow both punished and freed him at the same time. It was hard to describe, but cutting felt like a release from reality; the pain, while punishing, was a distraction from his guilt and self-hatred. It stopped the turbulent emotions wrestling inside of him, and it left his mind with a rare clarity. Nothing mattered in that moment except the physical sensation of pain. The pain demanded his full attention, and that in itself was worth it.
Gritting his teeth, the twelve-year-old drew one last line across his thigh, a strange sense of contentment filling his body as he lifted the blade away. His nightmare had faded away by now, and whatever had been bothering him was a distant memory that he felt no desire to revisit. It was as if cutting had made his worries disappear, and all that was left was the light throbbing of his leg.
With an exhausted yawn, Severus cleaned the knife and muttered a spell to wrap a thin bandage around his leg. It was essential to hide all evidence of his self-harm because if anyone found out about his shameful secret, he would undoubtedly be locked up in St. Mungo’s quicker than he could say quidditch. This was just another secret that no one could know about.
Rolling down his pajama pants, the dark-haired boy closed his eyes, letting himself surrender to sleep. He wasn’t planning on resorting to his knife as a habit, but it comforted him to know that it was there. Just in case.
Severus knelt before his school trunk, a satisfied look on his face as he emptied his robe pockets of potions ingredients. He had just come back from a venture into the Forbidden Forest where he’d been collecting the rarer ingredients needed for dreamless sleep. Having been plagued by nightmares for the past few weeks, his exhausted body had finally decided that brewing dreamless sleep was a necessity, so today he had finally acquired what he would need to brew the potion. While he could always go to Madam Pomfrey, he knew that she would tell Dumbledore, and he didn’t want his guardian to think he was even more of a burden than he already was.
The door opened behind him, and the potions prodigy turned around, nodding at his roommate who had just entered. “Rosier.”
“I’d make myself scarce if I were you, Snape,” Rosier smirked in lieu of a greeting.
Severus quirked an eyebrow. “What are you on about?”
“You’ve been missing for over five hours, mate,” the Slytherin answered, casually propping an elbow against the wall. “The professors went bonkers when they realized you were missing from the second-year study hall. They’ve been searching the castle all afternoon trying to find you. Pretty sure I heard some talk of calling the aurors.”
Severus paled. In his rush to sneak out without being noticed, he had completely forgotten about the mandatory Saturday study hall that afternoon. Damn, how was he going to explain this to the professors?
“Where did you get off to, anyway?” Rosier asked curiously. “Bribe an older student to take you off the grounds?”
The twelve-year-old shook his head, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers. “I was in the Forbidden Forest.”
His dorm mate whistled. “Impressive. And you’re back without a scratch on you. The last student who snuck into the Forbidden Forest ended up in the hospital wing for a week straight. One of that half-breed Hagrid’s creatures apparently attacked him—an acromantula, if I remember correctly.”
Severus shuddered lightly. Fortunately, he hadn’t needed to go too far into the Forbidden Forest, so he’d been able to avoid the more dangerous creatures living there. He had no delusions that he would have survived an encounter with an acromantula or a blast-ended skrewt.
“Anyway,” Rosier continued, “the students have been told to immediately alert their heads of houses if they see you, so unless you cast a disillusionment charm on yourself on your way back here, the professors are probably on their way here as we speak.”
Severus swore loudly. “Damn it, Rosier, why didn’t you tell me that first?” he snapped, slamming his trunk closed and scrambling to his feet. He needed time to fabricate a story and secure an alibi, and he wasn’t going to be able to do that if the professors caught him in his dorm room.
“I did warn you,” Rosier shrugged, looking far too amused at the plight of his housemate. “Try Diggory from Hufflepuff if you need an alibi. I heard he’s failing potion.”
Severus nodded in thanks and flew past his dorm mate, desperate to reach the Hufflepuff dorms before the professors found him. Diggory already owed him for previous potions tutoring, and now was the perfect time to call in that debt. Sprinting around the corner, he didn’t see the figure coming towards him until it was too late.
“Oomph!”
He stumbled backwards at the impact, trying to catch his balance, when a vice-like grip latched onto his arm and pulled him upright.
“Mr. Snape.”
Severus gulped, instantly recognizing the voice. With trepidation, he reluctantly lifted his head to meet the furious expression of Professor McGonagall. Oh, shite.
“You will follow me to the headmaster’s office immediately, young man,” McGonagall commanded, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
The twelve-year-old winced as he was spun around and marched down the corridor, the professor’s grip on his arm strong and unforgiving. He twisted slightly, trying to loosen her hold, but it only tightened painfully. A muffled whimper escaped him before he could stop it, and the grip holding him instantly softened, much to Severus’ confusion. Why was McGonagall being kind to him? He had just made the professors waste their entire afternoon looking for him—he was undoubtedly going to be punished harshly for wasting their valuable time, not to mention entering the Forbidden Forest.
They reached the headmaster’s office, and Severus swallowed hard as McGonagall knocked sharply on the door. This would be his first interaction with his guardian since their shopping trip discussion a few months ago, and while he knew that this was the bad kind of attention, he couldn’t help but feel a hint of satisfaction. Dumbledore didn’t have any excuse for ignoring him this time; the man would finally be forced to acknowledge him, even if it was only to determine his punishment.
“Enter.”
Severus ducked his head as he was firmly guided to stand in front of the headmaster’s desk. McGonagall stood behind him, her hands resting on his shoulders to prevent him from running, should he try.
“It seems that our young charge has returned to the castle grounds, Headmaster.”
Dumbledore’s expression flickered momentarily with relief before quickly morphing into one of stern displeasure. “You left the wards of the castle, young man. Explain yourself,” he ordered.
The second year shivered at the steel in his guardian’s voice but bravely raised his head. Facing an angry adult was always scary, but he was determined to make the most of the man’s attention, even if it was the bad kind. At least Dumbledore wasn’t ignoring him. “I was collecting potions ingredients in the Forbidden Forest, sir,” he said in a small, quavering voice.
The headmaster opened his mouth to respond, only to frown as an owl swooped through the window, dropping a letter into his hands. Breaking the seal, he quickly rose to his feet and summoned his cloak.
“Albus?”
“I apologize, Minerva. I must leave immediately. It’s an urgent matter at the Ministry. If you could take care of this, please, I would greatly appreciate it.”
And in a flash of green flames, he was gone, Severus noted numbly. His guardian hadn’t even referred to him by his name. He was merely ‘this,’ just like at Spinner’s End where he’d been ‘the freak’ or some other insult.
“That man,” McGonagall huffed, shaking her head in disapproval at the headmaster’s hasty departure. She had seen the look of longing her godson had sent her colleague; Severus wanted a father figure, and Dumbledore was too busy managing the school, the incompetent ministry, and the upcoming war to even realize what his ward needed.
Surveying the child over her spectacles, she gestured to the chair in front of the headmaster’s desk. “Take a seat, please.”
Severus sullenly obeyed, a sinking feeling of resentment settling in his stomach for reasons he couldn’t understand. He just wanted to be back in his dorm room now, curled up on his bed.
“Tell me, Severus, why in Merlin’s name did you think it was a good idea to venture into the Forbidden Forest all by yourself?”
Severus crossed his arms, sulking rather petulantly. McGonagall was neither his guardian nor his Head of House, so why was she dealing with him?
“Look at me, Severus Tobias Snape!”
The twelve-year-old’s head shot up. No one had ever addressed him by his full name before.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was, young man? For all I knew, you’d been kidnapped by Death Eaters! And now I find out that you voluntarily risked your life for a few potions ingredients? You could have been seriously injured or even killed!”
Severus stared at her, eyes wide. She had been worried? About him?
“Well?” the professor demanded. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Severus bristled at her tone, following his instinct to hide behind a wall of defiance and let it protect him. “Why are you so upset? It’s not like you have any reason to care! You’re not even my guardian, and he obviously doesn’t care,” he burst out.
McGonagall sighed at the obvious hurt in her godson’s voice. “Albus does care about you, Severus, but he is overcommitted and unable to see that you need him right now.”
“I don’t give a bloody knut if he cares about me!” the twelve-year-old denied fervently. That certainly hadn’t been the response he’d been looking for. “And I don’t need him or you!”
“Your opinion has been duly noted. However, whether you need me or not, I will always be here for you,” McGonagall promised.
“But why?” Severus cried desperately.
“Why what? Why am I promising to be here for you? Why do I care about you?”
Severus shrugged helplessly. He didn’t even know what he wanted to hear, but he was confused and felt like crying for some reason.
“I am doing this because you deserve care and love, and as your godmother, I wish to provide this to the best of my ability.”
“Honorary godmother,” Severus countered in a mumble. “It’s not official.”
“It does not matter to me that my status as your godmother is not legally binding, child. I accepted your mother’s request to act as your godmother, and I will treat you as I would have, had I been named your godmother since your birth. I’m afraid you're stuck with me, and there’s nothing you can do to get rid of me,” McGonagall finished with a wry smile.
Severus bit his lip, wanting so badly to believe her but also knowing that nothing good ever lasted. Adults always left him—the concerned teacher from muggle primary, the muggle social worker, his mother...
“It’s okay if you don’t believe me,” McGonagall said gently, as if reading his thoughts. “But I will never stop being your godmother no matter what you do, and I hope that someday you can trust that I am speaking the truth.”
Severus stared at his lap, his mind drifting to the days when he and Lily had played pretend and acted out the stories where everything ended happily ever after. He had originally scoffed at the storybooks, claiming that those endings weren’t realistic, but his best friend had always insisted that a happy ending was possible. And while the twelve-year-old held no delusions that he would have this happily ever after, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to pretend for just a little while? To indulge himself in a fantasy where he was the good kid with a fairy godmother?
“What are you thinking so hard about?” McGonagall asked with a small smile.
“What’s my punishment, Professor?” Severus forced out rather desperately, suddenly needing to talk about something else. McGonagall looked rather surprised by the abrupt subject change but thankfully didn’t comment on it, much to his relief.
“I believe we should start by discussing why you were in the Forbidden Forest looking for ingredients. Why not ask Professor Slughorn to use the ingredients in the student potions stores?”
Severus averted his eyes to his knees. “I needed a few ingredients that aren’t kept in the cupboard,” he admitted reluctantly.
The transfiguration professor pursed her lips. “You were planning to brew a potion that is not approved for student brewing, I assume?”
“It’s allowed,” Severus protested. “It’s just not in the potions cupboard for the younger years.”
“Spit it out,” McGonagall prompted with a stern look.
“But you’ll take away my ingredients!” the second year whined. He had worked hard to collect his ingredients, and he didn’t want them confiscated.
“Well, you are most definitely not keeping them if you already know that I won’t approve. What is it, young man?” McGonagall pressed insistently.
Severus remained petulantly silent, crossing his arms and shaking his head.
“I can always search your trunk if you refuse to tell me.”
The potions prodigy scowled at the threat. “Fine. It’s dreamless sleep,” he mumbled grudgingly.
The professor’s eyebrows shot up. Dreamless sleep was only taught under strict supervision to the NEWT students, not to mention that the substance was restricted for minors by the Ministry’s Department of Substance Regulation due to its highly addicting properties. “Well, you are correct that I will be immediately confiscating these ingredients, and you know exactly why. I would, however, like to know why you are in need of dreamless sleep. Surely you know that you could go to Madam Pomfrey if you are having trouble sleeping?”
Severus’ cheeks reddened. “I’m not having trouble sleeping,” he denied hotly. “I’m not some baby who can’t handle a few bad dreams.”
McGonagall inwardly sighed to herself. What would life as a professor be without having to deal with the fragile pride of preteens and adolescents? “I wasn’t implying anything about your ability to deal with distressing dreams, Severus,” she explained calmly. “Even adults have nightmares sometimes, and they are nothing to be ashamed about. I am, however, concerned that you were planning to brew a ministry restricted potion instead of speaking with Madam Pomfrey. Is there a reason for this?”
The twelve-year-old fidgeted awkwardly and shrugged, not seeing the point of sharing. It wasn’t like admitting his reasoning would change the fact that he was a burden to everyone.
“Very well,” McGonagall conceded after a minute of silence had passed. “In the future, I expect you to go to Madam Pomfrey instead of attempting to brew your own health potions. Is that understood?”
Severus nodded, his gaze focused on his hands.
“A verbal answer, please,” she requested.
“Yes, ma’am. I understand.”
“Good. Now, as for your punishment.”
Severus stiffened. Would it be the strap? Or perhaps the cane? His disobedience had inconvenienced all of the professors who had been forced to search for him, so the cane certainly wouldn’t be out of the question.
“I believe three days of detention with Professor Dumbledore should do it,” McGonagall declared, nodding to herself. That would give Severus and his guardian a chance to get to know each other, even if it was in a disciplinary context.
The twelve-year-old stared at her incredulously. “Only detention?” he managed to get out.
“I can assure you that the headmaster is perfectly capable of devising detentions that will make you think twice before foolishly risking your life again, young man,” McGonagall said sternly, her lips pressed together.
Severus nodded hastily at the reprimanding tone, not wanting to increase his punishment. His godmother must be leaving the corporal punishment to his legal guardian, as was only proper. A few days of thrashings would be painful to take, but he’d had worse before, and at least Dumbledore wouldn’t be able to ignore him if he was serving detention with the man. It stung to be constantly tossed aside for other professors to deal with, and even though Severus knew that craving his guardian’s attention would only end in disappointment, he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“Now, I expect to see you in my office with your dreamless sleep ingredients in ten minutes,” McGonagall continued. “And afterwards, we shall head to the Great Hall for dinner. As you know, your pumpkin juice contains an appetite stimulant, a stomach soother, and a nutrient potion on Madam Pomfrey’s orders, so don’t forget to start with that.”
Severus pulled a face. After McGonagall had learned about his stomach issues, she had dragged him to the hospital wing, and now the house elves drugged his pumpkin juice every meal. The juice only partially hid the disgusting taste of the potions, but Madam Pomfrey had threatened him with a week in the infirmary if he refused to take them, and he knew better than to disobey her. The mediwitch could be truly terrifying when it came to her patients.
“Severus, are you listening to me?”
“I’m listening,” the twelve-year-old insisted automatically.
McGonagall shot him a skeptical look. “Then you won’t mind repeating why you will be meeting me in my office in ten minutes?”
Severus shuffled his feet guiltily. “Erm… potions?” he offered weakly. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t been paying as close attention as he should have been.
The transfiguration professor pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Yes, but more specifically, the ingredients you collected in the Forbidden Forest.”
The potions prodigy winced. “Oh, right. I mean, of course, Professor,” he amended hastily at her raised eyebrow.
“And don't even think of hiding some of the ingredients before bringing them to me, young man,” McGonagall warned, recognizing the classic signs of a scheming child. “Or it’ll be a weekend of detention with me as well.”
Severus deflated. Well, there went his plans. Maybe he’d be able to bribe an older student to brew it for him. Madam Pomfrey would remain his last resort for now.
“Off you go,” McGonagall prompted, gesturing to the door. “My office. Ten minutes.”
Severus was sitting alone in the library after dinner, his transfiguration textbook beside him. There was an exam next week, and he was still struggling to understand the theory behind turning a pin cushion into a porcupine. Unfortunately, every time he tried to focus, his mind would wander back to his upcoming detention with his guardian. McGonagall had said that Dumbledore would send a note with the details after dinner, but he still hadn’t received any word. Perhaps the man was still at the Ministry?
Chewing on the end of his quill, the second year forced his gaze back to his textbook. He wasn’t usually this distracted by upcoming detentions, but to be fair, this wasn’t exactly a regular detention. This would be the first time that he would be completely alone with Dumbledore since the man had informed him of the guardianship, and while he was admittedly scared, a small part of him was also looking forward to it. And how stupid was that? What kind of idiotic dunderhead looked forward to a detention with an adult who was going to thrash him? And yet here he was, craving his guardian’s attention like an ugly little puppy at the shelter who wanted love from the people who would never pick him.
Severus slammed his textbook shut and shoved himself to his feet, ducking his head in apology when Madam Pince sent him a glare. Quietly packing up his things, he left the library and headed for his dorm. He would study another day when he could concentrate.
“Young Master Severus Snape?”
The twelve-year-old blinked in surprise as a house elf appeared next to his bed, holding a scroll of parchment. “Er, yes?”
“Master Albus Dumbledore wanted me to give this to you.”
Severus anxiously took the scroll and unfurled it, not even noticing when the house elf popped out. Would his guardian say?
A moment later, his expression crumbled. Dumbledore had transferred his detentions to Slughorn due to “scheduling conflicts,” and his head of house was requesting his presence in the potions lab at eight o’clock that evening. His eyes stung with unshed tears, and he angrily blinked them back, furious at himself for daring to feel disappointed. He shouldn’t have expected anything else, and this was what he got for being foolish enough to hope.
Crumpling the parchment in his fist, he flung it into the wastebasket and threw himself onto his bed, yanking the bed curtains around him. A quick flick of his wand, and a silencing charm was surrounding him. Only then did he allow himself to bury his face into his pillow and scream, never hating himself more when the tears that he so desperately fought against leaked out of his eyes.
The clock tower chimed, signaling the start of Severus’ detention, but the twelve-year-old couldn’t have cared less. Slughorn could clean his own bloody cauldrons.
Chapter 9
Notes:
“Behaviour is the primary way children and young people communicate distress” - Bomber, L. (2007) Inside I’m Hurting. London: Worth.
Chapter Text
The next morning found Severus curled up in his favorite secret alcove, smiling weakly as his best friend hurried towards him. Lily must’ve noticed that he hadn’t been at breakfast.
“Sev, what are you doing? We have transfiguration now,” Lily whispered urgently, gesturing her head towards the hallway. “C’mon, let’s go!”
Severus shook his head. “I’m not going to classes today. But now that you’re here, can you do me a favour?”
The Gryffindor eyed him worriedly. “Are you sick? You should go to the hospital wing if you’re not feeling well. Do you need me to get Madam Pomfrey?”
“I’m not sick. Really,” he insisted at his friend’s skeptical expression. “I’m perfectly fine. I just want some time alone, okay?”
Lily tilted her head and sent him a speculative look. She knew as well as he did that skipping class would result in a detention, and while it wouldn’t be the first time that Severus had skipped class, it was rare. “Sev—”
“First period starts in five minutes,” Severus interrupted tiredly, “and I don’t want you to be late. I was just wondering if I might be able to borrow your notes from today?”
“Of course,” Lily agreed easily, contradicting her concerned demeanor. “Will you tell me what’s going on the next time we meet?”
“I will,” Severus assured her. “Thanks, Lily. Promise you won’t tell anyone where I am?”
Lily bit her lip hesitantly. “First pinky promise that you’re really not sick or hurt?”
“I pinky promise,” he swore solemnly.
“Then I promise that I won’t tell.” The warning bell rang, and her eyes widened in panic. “I gotta go. See you later, Sev!”
Severus slumped against the wall as his best friend flew down the corridor. He knew that ditching all of his classes was a terrible idea, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care how much trouble he’d get into. He was certainly no stranger to detentions, and it wasn’t like the headmaster would get involved for something as trivial as a student skipping class.
There was still a pang of hollowness every time he thought of his guardian’s rejection, as much as he tried to ignore it. He didn’t even know why he wanted Dumbledore’s attention. McGonagall was everything he could wish for from a godmother, and he knew that he should be beyond grateful for her; she’d even arranged for a vial of dreamless sleep to appear on his bedside table the previous night! But somehow, it still wasn’t enough to fill the void of misery inside of him.
The twelve-year-old closed his eyes, listening wistfully to the cheerfully chirping birds in the distance. Sometimes, he wondered how it was possible that such small creatures were able to sing such happy songs. Even after the darkest of storms, their voices would resume as soon as the first rays of sunlight returned. Was it truly possible to be so happy and filled with hope?
He had never had many reasons to experience joy and hope, but he supposed that was his own fault. Burdens like him didn’t deserve happiness, so it was stupid to wish for what would never happen. Yet a small part of him couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel to be one of those birds. What would it be like, to feel the freedom of flight? To be able to leave behind the past and burst into cheerful song as soon as the shadows faded?
A silent tear ran down the child’s cheek, but he didn’t bother to wipe it away. After all, it was nothing but a foolish dream.
Minerva pursed her lips in concern as she watched her second year Gryffindors and Slytherins working on their teapot to tortoise transfigurations. Class was almost over, and her godson had still not made an appearance. The child had already missed breakfast, and he hadn’t been in the Slytherin dormitory or any of the potions labs when she’d gone searching for him, so it seemed likely that he was awake but skipping class for some reason.
The bell rang to signal the end of the period, and Minerva loudly cleared her throat to get the students’ attention. “The homework for tomorrow is to read the next chapter on snuffbox transfigurations and answer the questions on the worksheet. Class dismissed.” As the second years started to pack up and leave, she frowned as the suspicious hastiness of her red-headed lion caught her eye. “Ms. Evans, a quick word, please.”
The second year hesitantly approached her. “Professor?”
“I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed rather distracted during class,” she pointed out. “Is there something bothering you?”
The child’s eyes widened slightly, and she quickly shook her head. “No, ma’am.”
Minerva raised a skeptical eyebrow. “So there wasn’t a reason why you kept glancing towards the door every few minutes?”
Lily awkwardly fidgeted with her book bag strap, her eyes pointedly averted. “I’m sorry for my lack of attention. It won’t happen again,” she responded politely.
It was a weak attempt at deflection, and they both knew it. Pinning her young student with a disapproving look, Minerva continued probing. “It did not escape my notice that Mr. Snape was absent from my lesson today. Perhaps you have some knowledge of his whereabouts, seeing as you two are close friends?”
Something changed in the twelve-year-old’s stance as she boldly met her head of house’s gaze. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Professor.”
Minerva barely hid a groan at the girl’s determined reply. She was glad that her godson had a loyal friend in Ms. Evans, but her protectiveness was more of a hindrance than a help right now. “I understand that you don’t wish to betray your friend’s trust, but if his health and wellbeing are at risk, then making sure he gets help is more important than keeping his secret,” she explained firmly.
Lily chewed on her lip, uncertainty evident in her posture. “He promised that he wasn’t sick or hurt. He said that he just wants some time by himself.”
“Where is he, Ms. Evans?” Minerva pressed.
The Gryffindor shook her head, a stubborn glint appearing in her eyes. “I don’t know, Professor. May I go, please? I don’t want to be late for charms class.”
Minerva shot her a look of stern rebuke, but the twelve-year-old didn’t budge. “You are certain that he is not injured in any way?”
“He pinky promised,” Lily repeated. “Sev wouldn’t lie to me.”
Recognizing that her young student wasn’t going to reveal anything else, Minerva nodded curtly. “Very well. Off you go.”
The girl practically flew out of the classroom, eliciting a weary sigh from the professor. She could have continued pushing for answers, but since Severus didn’t appear to be hurt or ill, it wouldn’t have been appropriate to further interrogate the second year. And while skipping class was obviously not condoned, Minerva could understand why her godson might want to be left alone after spending an evening with his guardian for the first time. It had to be a lot for the poor child to process, but hopefully he and Albus had at least bonded a little bit, despite it being a detention.
“Good morning, Professor McGonagall,” a fifth-year Ravenclaw greeted dreamily as he wandered into the classroom, followed by the rest of the OWL students.
“Good morning, Mr. Lovegood,” Minerva responded with a nod. Since it didn’t seem to be an urgent matter, she would allow her godson his requested space before checking in with him at lunch. And Merlin help the boy if he decided to skip lunch as well because once Poppy found out, there was no magic on earth that would be able to save him from her concerned wrath.
Except that was exactly what happened. It was lunch time, and Severus wasn’t in the Great Hall. Again. And judging by Poppy’s slightly murderous expression, Minerva wasn’t the only one who had noticed the child’s absence. The two exchanged a dark look, both well aware of how important it was that Severus took his potions. If the twelve-year-old didn’t follow the potions regimen Poppy had prescribed, it was possible that he could have chronic health issues.
“Poppy, my dear, is something wrong?” the headmaster asked with a wary glance at the clearly pissed off mediwitch.
Poppy smiled sweetly, eliciting a nervous gulp from the older wizard. “Whatever would be wrong, Headmaster?”
“Well, you just seem a bit… upset,” Albus pointed out hesitantly. “But perhaps I am misreading the situation,” he said hastily as the mediwitch suddenly glared daggers at him.
“No, Albus, you are absolutely correct,” Poppy snapped. “I am upset. And would you like to know why?” She didn’t give the headmaster a chance to reply before jabbing her finger into his chest. “I am upset because this is the second meal in a row that a severely underweight and malnourished twelve-year-old has failed to make an appearance in the Great Hall to take the potions that are essential to his health. Any thoughts on who this child might be?” she sneered sarcastically.
The headmaster wearily sighed. “I apologize, Poppy. I have been extremely busy dealing with the war effort and the Minister’s incessant pleas for advice, so I haven’t been keeping track of the boy. Perhaps one of you might know where Mr. Snape ran off to?” he asked, looking around at his colleagues.
“You are most likely the last professor who saw him, Albus,” Minerva countered with a frown. “Your ward has skipped all of his morning classes, so the last time anyone saw him would have been at his detention with you last night.”
Albus’ brow crinkled in confusion. “I had an emergency Wizengamot meeting yesterday evening, so I reassigned the detentions to Horace. Horace, did you—” he faltered at the angry hiss from his deputy headmistress.
“You reassigned his detentions?” Minerva questioned in furious disbelief. She had specifically assigned the child’s detention with Albus so that the two could spend time getting to know each other!
The headmaster smiled placatingly. “No need to worry, my dear. I’m sure young Severus was properly chastised in his detention with his head of house. Isn’t that right, Horace?”
“Well, the boy never showed up,” Horace admitted guiltily. “And since my Slug Club meeting was already scheduled, it slipped my mind to pursue the matter.”
Minerva glowered furiously at both wizards and forced herself to take deep breaths. It would regrettably be rather unprofessional if she hexed her two colleagues in front of the students. But she could hardly believe their stupidity! Letting an emotionally fragile twelve-year-old boy skip multiple meals, classes, and detention without even bothering to follow up? It was a good thing that Ms. Evans had assured her that he wasn’t injured or ill, otherwise she would have demanded another castle-wide search for the child. As it was, this needed to be nipped in the bud immediately.
“This is unacceptable, Albus. You need to call your ward to your office and have a serious talk with him. It is your responsibility as his guardian to establish and consistently enforce boundaries that ensure his well-being, especially since it’s clear that Horace cannot be trusted to do so,” she responded, shooting a deadly glare at the sheepish potions master.
“I am merely respecting Severus’ wishes, Minerva,” Albus countered calmly. “The boy made it quite clear that my interference in his life beyond what was strictly necessary would be most unwelcome, therefore his misbehaviour will be handled by his head of house, as it would be for any other student.”
Minerva gaped at him in utter disbelief. For all that Albus was hailed as a brilliant wizard, he was as clueless as a flobberworm when it came to his ward. “Albus, you can’t just let an insecure twelve-year-old child dictate the terms of your relationship and then accept it without question. Can’t you see that Severus is trying to get your attention?”
The headmaster shook his head. “He is likely just going through a rebellious phase, as many of our students do. It’s nothing that a few detentions with his head of house won’t fix.” He nodded at the potions professor. “Horace, please see to it that Mr. Snape shows up for his detentions this week. If he doesn’t, I’m sure one of the Slytherin prefects will be able to escort him to your office.”
“Certainly, Headmaster.”
“You cannot be serious,” Minerva spluttered in disbelief. “Have all those lemon drops meddled with your brain? This is not your typical case of a rebellious child. Severus is testing you to see if you care enough to do something!”
“I will not be intervening unless the issue escalates,” the headmaster repeated with a hint of authority in his tone. “I cannot afford to get involved every time a child skips class. There are more pressing issues I must focus on, as I’m sure you know.”
“Severus is not just any child, Albus,” Minerva stated coldly. “He’s your ward, and you took responsibility for him when you signed the papers—”
“My answer will not change,” the old wizard interrupted curtly. “If you will excuse me, I have other business I must handle. Horace will deal with the boy.”
Minerva huffed angrily at the departing back of the headmaster. She knew that Albus was stressed and overworked, but then he shouldn’t have accepted guardianship of Severus if he didn’t think he could properly care for the child. She was trying her best to support her godson along with managing her own three positions, but it was clear to anyone with eyes that the child needed a father figure as well.
“Horace, if you find the boy before me, I expect you to bring him straight to the hospital wing,” Poppy ordered, raising her head from where she had been quietly scribbling on a piece of parchment.
“Poppy?” Minerva questioned, her eyes drifting curiously to the parchment.
“It’s a note to a colleague who works in the children’s psychiatric department at St. Mungo’s. Abused children with limited support systems can only be pushed so far before they reach their breaking point, Minerva,” the mediwitch responded quietly. “And if Albus doesn’t get his act together, Severus is going to reach that point very soon.”
Back in his hidden alcove, Severus was rolling down his left trouser leg, covering the evidence of the new, red lines that now marked his thigh. There were twelve total now. One for each year of his worthless, miserable existence.
Pushing himself to his feet, the dark-haired boy stumbled into the hallway before resting his hand against the wall to support himself. He was feeling a bit light-headed, and while he knew that he should have gone to the Great Hall to get his potions, he couldn’t bring himself to face anyone right now. Not that it really mattered, since lunch was already over. But he couldn’t go to the kitchens either, because then the house elves might tell Madam Pomfrey where he was.
With a weary sigh, Severus wandered aimlessly through the corridors, relieved that all of the professors were teaching and therefore unable to ask him why he wasn’t in class. The headmaster was undoubtedly in his office, Madam Pomfrey would be in the hospital wing, and Filch was probably in his office, daydreaming about torturing students. He was safe from adults for now.
As he passed by an unfamiliar door, he paused as he felt a tingle of magic pass over him. Turning back around, he inspected the engraving in the wood, a smirk gracing his features. It appeared that he had discovered the staff lounge.
“Alohomora.”
The door unlocked with a quiet click, and Severus poked his head inside. Surveying the room, he noted that there were a few clusters of comfy-looking armchairs, a desk for each professor, and a conference table in the middle. On the walls, there were posters and decorations strung up, creating a pleasant, cozy atmosphere.
His curiosity satiated, the twelve-year-old started to close the door, only to pause. It was preposterous to even consider it. Impulsive, irrational, and without a doubt worthy of only the most idiotic dunderhead. And yet…
Afternoon classes had just ended, and the professors were heading to the staff lounge for their usual grading sessions combined with catching up on the day’s gossip. Minerva was no longer feeling quite as stressed, having heard that her godson had finally been located shortly after lunch. According to Poppy, Severus had seemed almost giddy, as if on an adrenaline rush when she’d found him, which had struck the mediwitch as unusual. So, after giving the twelve-year-old his potions and lunch, her friend had decided to keep him in the hospital wing for observation. The latest update was that Severus’ vitals had returned to baseline, and he would be released as soon as he woke up from his nap.
“Good afternoon, Filius,” Minerva greeted, closing her classroom door and joining her colleague who was coming down the hallway.
“Good afternoon, Minerva. Ah Pomona, how did the second years’ lesson on mandrakes go?” Filius asked jovially as he spotted the herbology professor behind them.
“I do hope none of the students fainted,” Minerva commented dryly.
Pomona chuckled. “No fainting students today, luckily. Although two of your lions were fooling around and just barely got their earmuffs on in time, Minerva.”
The transfiguration professor sighed, not even having to ask who the troublemakers were. “Well, that explains why the Gryffindor hourglass is lower than it was at lunch.”
The herbology professor frowned. “I actually assigned them detention with Argus since this isn’t the first time they’ve neglected to listen to my instructions. Filius?”
“It wasn’t me, either,” Filius said, shaking his head. “There you are, Horace,” he greeted as the potions professor hurried to catch up to them. “I don’t suppose you would know anything about Gryffindor’s point loss?”
“Ah, yes. Mr. Black and Mr. Potter thought it would be amusing to throw a firework in Mr. Rosier’s cauldron,” Horace sighed. “Luckily, I was able to cast a shield charm in time, but the results could have been disastrous, so I was not light in my point deduction. I apologize if I was too harsh, Minerva.”
“Not to worry, Horace. I fully approve,” Minerva agreed, her lips thinning with displeasure at hearing of her lions’ irresponsible actions. She would most certainly be having words with both boys for their blatant disregard of their fellow students’ safety. Potions was a dangerous subject, and while Horace wasn’t fit to be a head of house in her opinion, he was undoubtedly a skilled potions master and teacher, despite his favoritism. There had been no potions incidents where students had been gravely injured ever since the man had become the potions professor, and for that she was grateful.
As they reached the staff lounge, Pomona took out her wand and unlocked the door with a silent swish. Stepping forward, she pushed open the door, only to stop short and gasp.
“Pomona, what’s wro—” Minerva cut off mid-sentence as she took in the scene in front of her. It looked like a tornado had swept through and destroyed everything. Desks and chairs were overturned, papers were torn and littered across the room, and the tapestries and decorations that had adorned the walls were now lying crumpled on the floor.
“What in Merlin’s name happened?” Horace exclaimed, his hand flying to his mouth.
Minerva’s eyes narrowed as suddenly everything clicked into place. “I think I have an idea,” she said slowly. “Filius, if you could please cast the charm that allows one to identify a magical signature?”
“Of course, Minerva.” The diminutive professor murmured a complicated spell, and with a jab of his wand, a distinct pattern of magical energy gathered in the air.
“Do you think it was the work of one of You Know Who’s followers?” Horace asked in a fearful tone.
Minerva shook her head. Given that transfiguration required detailed attention to wand work, she was consequently familiar with most of her students’ magical signatures. And this was one that she had come to know quite well over the past few months.
“Who do you think it was?” Pomona asked shakily.
Minerva exchanged a knowing glance with the charms professor. Filius evidently recognized the signature as well. “This was the work of a student, Pomona.”
“A student? But who would dare?” she gasped.
Letting out a weary sigh, Minerva closed her eyes.
“A second year Slytherin by the name of Severus Snape.”
Chapter 10
Notes:
“Adults are either frightening by being abusive to me or frightening because they seem so scared and helpless most of the time. I don’t know whether to approach you or to run away from you. I feel confused by you and others. I’m bad. What is going on? Why should I trust you? But then I need you sometimes. I need to stay in control—ready. Who knows what will happen next?” - Bomber, L. (2007) Inside I’m Hurting. London: Worth.
Chapter Text
Severus sat rigidly before the headmaster, his hands tightly clasped in his lap to prevent their trembling. He could hardly believe that he’d been stupid enough to think that deliberately trashing the staff lounge had been a good idea. The professors were masters in their fields; of course, they’d been able to trace the crime back to him! Even a muggle forensics team could’ve figured it out using the fingerprints he’d left on the overturned furniture. And it wasn’t like the staff room’s location was exactly a secret—any student who had gone to weekend office hours knew where it was, so it was easily plausible that a student could’ve been the culprit.
The professors had evidently come to the same conclusion, and while Severus had never attended office hours, given that he had only been right around the corner from the crime scene when Madam Pomfrey had managed to track him down, it didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. Thankfully, the mediwitch hadn’t kept him in the infirmary for very long, and after a lecture filled with threats of dire consequences should he skip his potions again, he had been released back to his dormitory. At which point he had received a summons to the headmaster’s office via a house elf.
“Mr. Snape.”
The tone was highly displeased, and Severus barely managed to withhold a shudder. He obviously hadn’t been thinking straight when he’d wished for his guardian’s attention in the past because this was bloody terrifying. And the man hadn’t even looked at him yet.
“Y-Yes, sir?” the twelve-year-old stuttered in a barely audible whisper.
Dumbledore frowned as he reached for the missive from St. Mungo’s that had just arrived. The war had picked up recently, and now he was constantly busy with business at the Ministry and leading the Order of the Phoenix’s efforts against Voldemort, not to mention managing his duties as Headmaster and his obligations to the Wizengamot and the ICW. He really did not have time to be dealing with errant students, and Minerva was fully aware of this, yet she had still relentlessly insisted that he deal with the boy rather than his head of house.
Opening the sealed parchment, he spoke tersely to the child. “I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve with this rebellion of yours, Mr. Snape, but I want it to stop.” His eyes closed briefly as he finished skimming the report. The Prewett twins, both Order members, were at St. Mungo’s in critical condition and unlikely to make it. For Merlin’s sake, why couldn’t the boy just behave? It wasn’t that hard to stay out of trouble. There were good people sacrificing their lives to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters every day, and every moment he wasted on trivial matters was another life potentially lost.
“You have detention with Mr. Filch for two weeks, and Professor Slughorn will ensure your compliance,” Dumbledore bit out, his attention already focused on writing a letter to a potential war ally. “I cannot waste any more of my valuable time on unimportant matters.”
Severus sat there numbly, his guardian’s words affecting him worse than any beating ever could. Dumbledore had only confirmed what he already knew from his father, yet it felt like the last shred of hope that he’d foolishly held onto had just been destroyed.
“You’re dismissed,” the old wizard muttered, waving him off.
“Yes, sir.” Severus mechanically walked to the door and quietly closed it behind him. Then, as soon as he was safely out of sight, he fled.
The twelve-year-old stumbled blindly through the hallways, his eyes stinging with tears as the castle air whipped across his face. Eventually, his legs carried him to an old, abandoned classroom, and he wrenched the door open, determined not to lose control until the door was locked with as many charms as he knew. Only then did he let a choked, distraught sob escape his lungs.
It didn’t matter who his guardian was because he would always drive them away. It was his fault for being bad. He was a waste of time, an ungrateful burden who imposed on the valuable time of his betters. Dumbledore had barely even looked at him the entire time, obviously too disgusted with his presence to even spare him a glance. And it wasn’t like Tobias hadn’t been the same, so he should be used to this by now! But the rejection hurt even more coming from Dumbledore because he knew that this had been his second chance, and he’d blown it. He could’ve kept his head down and stayed out of trouble, but instead he’d acted out like an ungrateful brat, and now his guardian hated him. And it was his own fault.
Severus slammed his fist into the wall, tears of self-loathing streaming down his face. Why couldn’t he stop being a worthless burden so that someone would love him? He tried, he really did try to be good, but he just couldn’t seem to be a good kid. And he hated himself for that. For being such a freak that he would never be worthy of love or care.
Burden. Freak. You’re nothing but trash, boy. Should’ve drowned you at birth.
The twelve-year-old let out a cry of anguish and pummeled the walls with all his might. His father had been right. He didn’t deserve good things because he was the villain in the story. And the villain could never get what they wanted if the worthy people were to have their happy ending.
A loud crack filled the room, and Severus whimpered, instantly recognizing the signs of a broken bone. Slumping to the floor, he cradled his throbbing hand against his chest and brought his knees up, his head hanging in misery. He was bad, and bad people deserved to suffer for their crimes. And his crime was existing.
The door banged open as someone forced their way through his locking charms, but he didn’t bother raising his head. If it was Potter or Black coming to finish him off, then at least his suffering would finally be over.
“Severus, what in Merlin’s name happened?” McGonagall exclaimed in concern at the sight of the sobbing, balled up child. She quickly crossed the room and knelt before the boy, laying a gentle hand on his trembling shoulder. “Severus?”
The twelve-year-old curled into himself even further. He didn’t want the only adult who seemed to care about him to see him in this disgusting state. “Go ’way,” he pleaded, his voice muffled by his knees.
The professor shook her head. “I’m not going to leave you here. But if you don’t want to talk, then I’ll stay with you until you feel better.” Slowly, she sat down beside the small child and gently tried to tug him against her side, only for the boy to jerk away with a frightened cry. “It’s okay, Severus. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. You’re safe now,” she soothed in a low murmur. Hoping to demonstrate that touch could be kind, she tried again, gently resisting as the young boy tried to squirm out of her embrace. “Shhh… it’s okay, my little cub.”
McGonagall sighed in relief as the child finally melted into her, his face buried in her robes. Wrapping one arm around the trembling body, she used the other to draw soothing circles on his back. “I’ve got you, little one. You’re safe, I promise.” With a sad smile, she held her godson as he cried his heart out, absentmindedly wondering how long it had been since an adult had given the poor child a hug. It was clear that her godson wasn’t used to being touched gently by the way he clung desperately to her robes, and it broke her heart to think of the horrors he must have lived through at Spinner’s End.
She didn’t know how much time had passed before the twelve-year-old’s sobs turned into sniffles, but eventually his grip loosened and he pulled away. “Feeling better?” she asked softly, a kind smile on her lips.
Severus nodded, a flush covering his face as he realized he’d just cried like a baby and most likely covered his professor’s robes in snot. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
McGonagall shook her head and placed a finger under his chin, lifting his head. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, child. There’s no shame in crying, no matter what others may say.”
Severus lowered his gaze and didn’t reply. Tobias certainly didn’t share his professor’s perspective, and he knew that Dumbledore wouldn’t appreciate a sniveling brat either. He wasn’t sure why McGonagall was still being nice to him after his disgraceful breakdown, but he couldn’t find it within himself to question it. She had willingly hugged him, something that no adult had done ever since he’d started showing signs of accidental magic at age two, and to feel loved again, even if only for a minute, was something he would never be able to stop wishing for.
“Do you want to talk about it?” McGonagall asked quietly, her arm still wrapped around his shoulders.
Severus shrugged, not wanting to admit that he’d been so upset by his guardian’s words. It was nothing he didn’t already know, and it was shameful that he’d overreacted so much.
The professor eyed him contemplatively. “Do you want me to get Albus?” she asked. It would make perfect sense that the boy might want to speak to his guardian rather than his godmother, since Albus was supposed to be his father figure, after all.
Her brow furrowed in confusion when Severus quickly shook his head. She knew that Albus had talked with the child earlier that day, so perhaps her godson was merely upset about his punishment, as most children would be. “I know that detention with your guardian won’t be fun, but it isn’t the end of the world, is it?” She nudged him lightly. “Is that why you’re avoiding him?”
Severus ducked his head. “My detention isn’t with the headmaster,” he mumbled.
“Oh?” McGonagall asked casually, dawning recognition mixed with displeasure growing inside of her. If Albus had given the boy detention with Horace again…
“I have detention with Filch instead,” the twelve-year-old admitted. “Professor Dumbledore said that he has more important things to do than waste his time on my childish behaviour.”
McGonagall’s nostrils flared, her lips pressing into an impossibly thin line. “I see. It seems that I will need to have some words with our esteemed headmaster,” she said, inwardly seething.
Severus shook his head desperately. “No, please, Professor! I don’t want him to get mad at me. He’s right. I was wasting his time, and I shouldn’t—”
“You were not wasting his time,” McGonagall cut in icily.
“But—”
“Albus is your guardian, Severus, which means that it is his job to care for you like his own child. While your behaviour as of late has not been ideal, it is never a waste of time to help a young person learn what is appropriate behavior and what is not. That is part of raising a child, and it is a joy and privilege to be involved with that,” McGonagall insisted.
Severus nodded quickly, not daring to argue against the fierce look on the professor’s face. His honorary godmother sure had some strange ideas, but he wasn’t going to be the one to tell her that.
McGonagall’s face softened at seeing her godson’s wide eyes. “Come along, Severus. Dinner is almost over, so we might as well eat in my quarters.”
Severus nodded and scrambled to his feet, hissing as he jolted his broken hand. Luckily, it was his left hand, so he’d still be able to use a fork until he could bandage it back in his room. He tilted his head in confusion as he heard a sharp intake of breath. “Professor?
“Have you been injured this entire time?” McGonagall exclaimed in horror, her eyes glued on his broken hand.
The second year slowly nodded, taking a cautious step back at his professor’s aghast expression. “It’s not a big deal, really!” he rushed to assure her.
“Not a big deal—Merlin's beard, Severus! If I’d realized you were hurt, I would have taken you straight to the infirmary. We are going there right now,” McGonagall declared, inwardly berating herself for not checking him for injuries earlier. She couldn’t believe that the boy had been sitting there with a broken hand the entire time.
“Hey, I can walk!” Severus yelped indignantly as he found himself lifted into the air without warning.
“Hush, child. Let me take care of you.”
Severus huffed lightly but decided against protesting. He could tell from the professor’s tone that she wasn’t going to budge, and it was rather comfortable resting in her arms. And with the rhythmic, gentle swaying as she walked, it was almost like getting rocked to sleep…
Minerva looked down in surprise as a soft snore came from the precious bundle she was carrying. Smiling fondly, she saw that the child had fallen asleep in her arms. She was truly privileged to be entrusted with young Severus’ care, and she would make sure that Albus understood that too, even if it took sticking him to his chair to make him see sense.
Entering the hospital wing, she gently laid her godson on a bed and quietly informed Poppy of the situation. Assured that her good friend and colleague would take care of Severus, she left for the headmaster’s office, her mouth set in a grim, determined line.
If Albus was surprised by his deputy headmistress bursting into his office, he didn’t show it. “Is there something I can do for you?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. It had been a long day, but he had just received word that the Prewett twins would recover, which was a heavy load off of his mind.
“Are you aware that your ward is currently in the infirmary?” Minerva demanded, her hands on her hips.
Albus sighed, wondering what the boy had done this time. “Did he get into another fight?”
Minerva shot him a scathing glare. “That’s the first thing you ask, Albus? Do you make it a habit to always assume the worst of your ward?”
The headmaster frowned. “Of course not. But we all know that the boy has been acting out lately, so I assumed—”
“Severus is in the hospital wing because he was so distraught that he punched a wall until he broke a bone,” Minerva hissed, slamming her hand down on his desk. “Do you have any idea of the state that I found your ward in because of your despicable words? How dare you tell the child that he is a waste of your time!”
Albus paled. He had been admittedly harsh in his words to the child, but he had been so stressed with hearing that the Prewett twins might not make it that he’d snapped. He was shaken to know that Severus had taken the words to heart. The boy had always seemed so tough and defiant. “Is the child doing better now? I assume Poppy has healed him?”
“Physically, Severus will be fine. But he is far from healed,” McGonagall snapped. “He is hurting inside, and your continued refusal to deal with him in favour of your other commitments has only cemented the child’s opinion that he’s worthless.”
Albus dragged a weary hand down his face. “It seems that I am repeating the same mistakes I made many years ago with another young Slytherin. I had thought that Severus would prefer my lack of interference since he’s never welcomed it before.”
Minerva took a seat with a frustrated huff. “Albus, we are dealing with an insecure twelve-year-old boy, not an independent adult. Severus is unsure of his place with you now that you’re his guardian, and I believe he’s subconsciously testing you to see how you’ll react. It’s your job to establish and enforce clear boundaries while showing that you care so that he knows what to expect from you.”
“Are you saying that the boy would appreciate more rules?” Albus asked incredulously. The child already broke half the school rules on a regular basis, so certainly more restrictions wouldn’t be welcome.
“Not exactly, no,” Minerva countered. “But I wouldn’t find it difficult to believe that he yearns for a father figure whom he can rely on and trust to be there for him both at his very best and his very worst. And while I’m certainly no expert on childhood trauma and its long-term effects, I would imagine that for a child who has been repeatedly abandoned by adults, showing his worst side first would be a strategic way to see if the new adult cares enough to stick around.”
Albus gave a mirthless chuckle. “Well, it’s quite evident that I’ve failed in that regard. You would be a far better guardian for the boy than me, Minerva.”
“Perhaps,” the transfiguration professor inclined her head, “but that is not the position Eileen granted me, therefore it is not a role that I can fulfill in Severus’ mind.”
The older wizard briefly closed his eyes. “Severus does not trust me, and I would not blame him if he never does, especially after my despicable words to him today.”
“You made a mistake that will not be easily forgotten,” Minerva acknowledged. “But I do not believe that it is too late for him to learn to trust you. You will simply have to prove through your actions that you are trustworthy, and that will take time.”
“The boy already trusts you.”
“To some extent, yes. I have spent both time and effort earning his trust over these past few months. And it is high time that you do the same.”
Albus met his friend’s challenging look with a weary sigh. “I do not know if I have the time to be the guardian that Severus needs,” he admitted. “Perhaps it was a mistake to accept the guardianship.”
“Bollocks.”
The headmaster’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
Minerva’s eyes flashed dangerously, her hand twitching for her wand. “You heard me. You signed the guardianship papers, so don’t you dare back out now, Albus too many damn names Dumbledore, or mark my words, you will be looking for a new transfiguration professor.”
Albus stared at her, taken aback. “Minerva, I—EEP!” he squeaked, his voice an octave higher as a powerful stinging hex caught him in an exceedingly sensitive area.
“I will not let you abandon him,” Minerva growled, glaring unrepentantly.
The headmaster gaped wordlessly at his colleague with wide eyes, his legs crossing protectively at the sight of her still glowing wand. “I—you just—” he spluttered.
“It would utterly destroy him, Albus,” the deputy headmistress continued in a whisper, the fight draining from her. “The child wouldn’t show it, but it would break him into pieces we could never hope to repair.”
There was a moment of silence.
Then, Albus nodded tiredly. “You are right, of course. I am sorry, I don’t know what I’ve been thinking. Not that it is an excuse, but I have been stretched extremely thin this year, and the war has been taking an extra toll, especially since we confirmed at our last Order meeting that Tom did indeed take steps to achieve immortality. We also almost lost the Prewett twins today in an attack that I should have anticipated if I’d spent more time on the war effort.”
“I heard about the attack,” Minerva said heavily, “but you are not responsible for the casualties of war. Thank Merlin that the Prewett twins will recover, but remember that they are both adults who have chosen to fight in this war. You may be the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, but every member is of age and makes their own decisions.”
“Yes, but it is still difficult to watch so many former students fight in the war, on opposite sides often, and know that I cannot save them all.”
“I know,” Minerva agreed. “War is terrible in that way, especially for us professors. But our graduates make their own choices, and we are not responsible for them. The best we can do is protect and guide our students to the best of our ability while they are within the walls of Hogwarts. And for you and I, we now have an additional responsibility as guardian and godmother to a hurt, insecure little boy who has been entrusted to our care.”
The headmaster closed his eyes, his memory flashing back to the painful past. The last time he had been entrusted with the guardianship of a child, she had died. His sweet little sister Ariana had only been a couple of years older than Severus, and because of his foolish, impulsive actions, her life had ended at only fourteen. No one knew whose curse it had been that killed her, but Albus knew that it was his fault because he had failed to protect her.
If he forced himself to be honest, that was a large part of why he’d been avoiding his ward. He was terrified of becoming attached to the child and then losing him, so he’d distanced himself. Because if he let himself care for Severus, then he risked the possibility of there being a time when he might fail again. And he wouldn’t be able to handle it if another beloved child met the same fate as his little sister.
“What happened to Ariana was a tragedy,” Minerva said knowingly, resting a sympathetic hand on his own. “But it isn’t too late to save Severus.”
Albus wiped away the single tear that had trailed down his cheek, a sad smile dancing across his face. He knew that his dear friend, one of the few who knew about Ariana, was right. Perhaps there was some truth in the words of muggle poet Alfred Tennyson— ’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. He would do his best to make amends, and even if Severus never forgave him, he wouldn’t let that deter him from trying to be the supportive, caring guardian that his ward deserved.
“I truly don’t know what I’d do without you, Minerva. Thank you for knocking some sense into this lemon-drop addled brain of mine,” Albus said sincerely. “I… I believe that it would be best if I resign from the ICW and Wizengamot so that I can focus on what and who truly matter.”
Minerva smiled approvingly. “Of course, Albus. I’m glad I was finally able to get through to you. And I’m sure Augusta Longbottom will be a force to be reckoned with as the next in line for the position of Chief Warlock.”
Albus chuckled and rose to his feet, wincing slightly as his trousers shifted. “Indeed, she is one of many formidable witches in our world. I will write the letters tonight, but right now I would like to visit the infirmary and apologize to Severus, if he is still awake. Would you care to accompany me?”
Minerva nodded affirmatively. “He was asleep by the time we made it to the hospital wing, but I’m sure Poppy will want to speak with us about next steps.”
“Ah yes, I remember Poppy did mention something about a mind healer,” Albus murmured.
The mediwitch had informed them that she was in contact with a colleague, Healer Jacob Smythe, from St. Mungo’s Children and Adolescent Psychiatric Department, so hopefully he would have some advice for handling the aftermath of Severus’ breakdown. It was certainly quite worrying that a twelve-year-old had purposefully hurt himself so severely. Both could only hope that this was the first time it had happened.
Chapter Text
Severus sat petulantly on the hospital bed, his arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face. He had almost made it to freedom the day before when Madam Pomfrey had suddenly swooped out of her office and marched him back to bed. After scolding him for trying to escape for the seventh time that week, the mediwitch had promptly ensured that any future escapades would be foiled with a silent wave of her wand. The twelve-year-old still thought that she’d looked entirely too smug when he’d realized that his backside was stuck to the mattress. None of the counter-spells he’d tried had worked either, and after many failed attempts, he’d given up and decided to sulk instead. Hence his current state.
“Good morning, Mr. Snape,” Madam Pomfrey greeted as she bustled into the room with a handful of potions. “And how is my wayward patient feeling this morning?”
Severus stuck out his tongue in protest as she cast a diagnostic charm. “I’m fine, Madam Pomfrey, as I’ve been saying for the past week,” he whined.
“Hmm… well considering that you fainted after the first time you claimed to be fine, you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take your word at face value,” the mediwitch answered sarcastically.
The twelve-year-old pouted. “I didn’t faint. I’m not a baby.”
“Of course not. You merely collapsed to the floor and lost consciousness,” Madam Pomfrey deadpanned before waving two potions in front of him. “You know the drill.”
Severus groaned but obediently gulped down the contents of each vial, a shudder running through his body at the bitter, slimy taste. For the past week, the mediwitch had practically shoved an appetite stimulant and a nutrient potion down his throat, easily convincing him that his new life goal was to discover how to make potions taste good while still being effective.
“Do I really have to take these gross potions with every meal?” he complained.
“You most certainly do, young man. And if I find out that you’ve skipped any more meals once you’re released, I will have no qualms about sticking you to this hospital bed for another week. Is that clear?” Madam Pomfrey demanded, towering over him rather like a dragon would protect her nest.
“Crystal,” Severus squeaked. Merlin, the mediwitch could probably get even the Dark Lord to obey with a look like that.
“I’m glad we have an understanding,” the mediwitch smirked. “Now, eat your breakfast, and if you behave, I will release you from my care.”
Severus’ eyes widened, and he hastily dug into the bowl of steaming porridge topped with nuts and fruit that appeared before him, desperate for his long-awaited release. He was finished in record time and quickly directed his energy to giving the mediwitch his most pleading puppy dog look.
“You know that won’t work on me,” Madam Pomfrey said amusedly. “But luckily for you, I was going to discharge you anyway,” she said, waving her wand to lift the sticking charm.
Severus eagerly leapt to his feet. He was free at last! “Thank you,” he said shyly, facing the mediwitch. As much as he hated the hospital wing, he did appreciate her care and kindness, even if she did mollycoddle him at times.
“You are most welcome,” Madam Pomfrey said warmly. “Now, off you go, and I better not see you here any time soon!” she called as the boy practically sprinted for the door.
Severus turned around and grinned impishly. “Don’t worry. I’ll try not to blow up any cauldrons this week.” And then he was gone, flying through the halls, his mind racing with all the possibilities. Maybe he could find Lily and see if she wanted to plan a prank. It had been awhile since they’d schemed together, and Lily was absolutely brilliant at causing mischief and most importantly, not getting caught.
His smile vanished a moment later as he caught sight of a familiar set of blinding robes coming down the hallway. Clenching his fists, he whirled on his heel and started walking in the opposite direction as fast as he could. Dumbledore had come to visit him every day while he’d been trapped in the infirmary, but Severus had always pretended to be asleep, not wanting to face the man.
It had been stupid of him to hope that his guardian might actually want him, and he knew that. He had foolishly indulged himself in a fantasy in which he might someday have a father who loved and cared for him, but now it was time to let go of his stupid childhood dreams. Dumbledore had made his opinion quite clear, and his words had only confirmed what Severus already knew to be true.
“Severus?”
The twelve-year-old slowed his pace but didn’t look back. Maybe he could pretend he hadn’t heard?
“We need to talk, my boy.”
The voice came from right behind him this time, and Severus inwardly cursed, knowing that he was trapped. Reluctantly, he turned around. “There’s nothing to talk about, sir. I wouldn’t want to waste your valuable time. If I may go now?”
Dumbledore closed his eyes, as if pained by his statement, but Severus only scoffed. Even a Hufflepuff would be able to see through the old wizard's pathetic display.
“I did not mean what I said that day, and I sincerely apologize for my harsh words and neglectful actions,” Dumbledore replied somberly. “I have been inexcusably remiss in my duties as your guardian, but I am here to remedy that now. And while I do not expect your forgiveness, I would like to get to know you better.”
Severus scowled bitterly. This was an act, and both of them knew it. No one changed their mind so drastically in only a week. “Whatever. Can I return to my dormitory now?”
The headmaster tiredly shook his head. “I believe it would be best if we discuss a few things first. Let’s move this to my office,” he prompted, gesturing for him to lead the way.
Under the man’s watchful eye, Severus sullenly trudged forward, not bothering to respond. It was obvious that Dumbledore wasn’t going to let him go until they had their stupid discussion, so it wasn’t like he had any choice but to obey.
As they entered the headmaster's office, the twelve-year-old stomped over to the indicated chair and crossed his arms, glaring at the floor as if trying to make a hole in it by will alone. Dumbledore didn’t want him, and he didn’t need a guardian. Problem solved. There was nothing else to talk about.
“It has become evident to me that we should have had this conversation months ago when I first took over your guardianship,” the headmaster began. “It was a mistake on my part to not discuss expectations of each other back in September, and I am sorry for this negligence. We will be addressing this now, however, as your behaviour clearly indicates a need for adult guidance.”
Severus bristled indignantly. “I don’t need any adults to look after me! I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
Dumbledore raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Your perspective is your prerogative, but you are only twelve years old, Severus. All children need a parent who looks after them. And if a child does not have that at home, as with your situation, then it is another adult’s responsibility to fill that role.”
“I didn’t need your interference with my father,” Severus retorted, glowering at the many trinkets sitting on the headmaster’s desk. “I was handling everything just fine on my own.”
“I’m sure you were managing admirably, my boy, but no child should have to suffer at the hands of an abusive parent,” Dumbledore replied. “We had no choice but to intervene once we saw the evidence of abuse.”
“I wasn’t abused!” Severus hissed vehemently.
The headmaster eyed him seriously. “Striking a child in anger is abuse, my boy. We don’t have to talk about it now, but what your father did was wrong, and he will be tried for his crimes against you.”
Severus balled his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms until he was sure that they would leave marks. The old man was senile if he thought that they would ever discuss what had happened with Tobias. “Mind your own bloody business and piss off,” he spat poisonously.
Dumbledore fixed him with a stern look. “And that right there is one of the reasons why we are having this conversation, young man. I will no longer be taking a hands-off approach when it comes to addressing your rule-breaking, so I advise you to curb this disrespectful attitude and rebellious behaviour of yours.”
“Or what?” Severus retorted with a scoff, a clear challenge in his tone.
“Or there will be consequences,” Dumbledore responded, a slight edge in his voice. “And if you do not cease with this attitude, then you will be receiving one.”
“Do your worst. I’m not scared of you, sir,” Severus mocked, leaning back in his chair. In the back of his mind, he knew that he was digging his own grave, but he couldn’t seem to care. Dumbledore sure had another thing coming if he thought that Severus would suddenly accept his authority after months of being ignored.
“That will be one point from Slytherin, young man. Enough.”
Having abandoned all sense of self-preservation by this point, Severus smirked and daringly shot his guardian a two-fingered salute. “Whatever.”
Dumbledore’s gaze darkened. “Would you prefer to be banned from the potions labs for a day instead?”
Severus’ smirk vanished and was instantly replaced with rage. The headmaster could take away points and give detentions to his heart’s content, but how dare the man threaten to restrict his brewing! That was off limits!
“I expect a verbal answer, young man. Or shall we make it two days?”
Uncontrollable fury coursed through Severus’ veins as he shot to his feet, not even sparing a glance at the chair he had violently knocked over. “You want an answer? Well, here it is. FUCK OFF!” he hollered, grabbing the closest object within reach and hurling it across the room.
“I said that’s enough. Sit down,” Dumbledore demanded, his tone becoming hard.
But Severus was too far gone to listen.
“How dare you try and act like my bloody guardian after months of ignoring me!” the child screamed, smashing another trinket against the wall. “You have no damn right to tell me what to do after constantly tossing me aside for another professor to deal with like I’m chopped liver!”
His next target was a strangely melted eagle shaped diadem with a blue oval sapphire in the middle. Severus flung it against the wall behind Dumbledore with all his strength, satisfied when it left behind a noticeable dent. “You said that you wanted to get to know me better? Well guess what, I don’t give a sodding knut what you’d like,” he shouted with a vicious kick to the man’s desk.
“You’re a right foul git, trying to trick me into believing your stupid act. You said it yourself—I’m a bother and waste of your valuable time—so stop pretending like you bloody care when we all know you don’t give a rat’s arse about me! I’m not gonna fall for it again.”
With visible effort, he hefted his chair into the air and sent it flying through the window, the glass shattering and ricocheting back towards him. Severus flinched and braced himself for the impact, only for an invisible shield to appear in front of him.
Whirling around to find the headmaster standing with his wand out, the dark-haired boy shouted in frustration. “No,” he cried, stomping his foot. “You’re not supposed to protect me! You’re supposed to let me get hurt!”
Dumbledore didn’t reply which only served to further incense him. He would shatter every damn trinket in the man’s office if that’s what it took to make him give up the act and leave him alone!
And he tried. Object after object was hurled against the wall, but with every broken trinket, a shield charm sprang up, preventing the flying shards of glass and ceramic from injuring him. Dumbledore was still protecting him even while he trashed the man’s office.
His face flushed and his eyes watering, Severus snatched the last trinket from Dumbledore’s desk and flung it to the floor, a breathless cry escaping from his lips. Then, the office was silent except for the sound of the child’s heavy panting and hitched gasps for air.
“Are you done now?” Dumbledore asked calmly after a moment of silently watching him.
Severus swallowed hard but bravely lifted his chin. “Yes, sir.”
The headmaster nodded and waved his wand a few times, quickly repairing the damage. “Then sit.”
The twelve-year-old stiffly obeyed, trying to hide his trembling hands. He knew perfectly well that he had just crossed every line in existence. He’d probably be on the train back to Spinner’s End before dinner.
“Head down.”
Severus gaped. “H-Huh?” he stuttered. Was he not getting expelled?
“You heard me,” Dumbledore replied evenly. “You will put your head down on the desk until I believe you are calm enough for a civil discussion.”
“I’m calm now!” he protested weakly.
“Head down, young man.”
Severus huffed, but seeing the unrelenting look in his guardian’s eyes, laid his forehead down on top of his crossed arms, his arms blocking his vision from the outside world as he stared at the smooth wooden surface of the desk. What was it with these adults and their stupid time outs? At least this punishment didn’t involve standing in the corner like a naughty toddler like when McGonagall had put him in time out. Shifting slightly, he subtly tilted his head upwards to see what his guardian was doing, only to feel a gentle weight push it back down.
“Stay there,” Dumbledore chided, keeping his hand on the back of the child’s head. Hearing a resigned sigh and seeing the tension draining from his ward’s shoulders, he removed his hand and leaned back in his chair, silently observing his young charge.
Severus was small for his age, still underweight and malnourished despite his daily potions regimen. And for all the boy’s bravado and defiance, Albus could now see that it was truly just an act. Sitting in front of him was a child who was scared of the world and afraid to trust, having been let down and betrayed by adults far too many times. To his great shame, the headmaster knew that he, too, had been one of those adults. But he was determined to show his ward that he would never abandon him again, and maybe someday, he would be gifted with the child’s trust.
He knew that it wouldn’t be a quick and easy journey, though. When he had spoken to Poppy’s colleague from St. Mungo’s Psychiatric Department, the healer had said that Severus likely had an insecure-disorganized attachment style. Having grown up with an abusive father and a neglectful mother, Healer Smythe had posited that Severus had learned to fear the very adults who were supposed to provide for his emotional and physical needs and safety. This type of unstable environment had led to a negative sense of self and a distrust of others, which for Severus and most children with this attachment style, manifested as an outwardly defiant attitude. The defiance was meant to mask the child’s insecurity and internal fear, but the consequences of this often resulted in behavioural issues and conflicts with authority figures.
The shallow, red lines marking the child’s thigh also hadn’t gone undetected when Poppy had run her medical scan. According to Healer Smythe, the cuts appeared to be nonsuicidal self-injury (NSSI) which was a coping mechanism for emotional distress that around 17% of youth engaged in at least once, according to a meta-analysis published in the Child and Adolescent Psychiatry and Mental Health journal. They would need to discreetly monitor Severus in case medical attention became necessary, but directly confronting him about it before he trusted them would likely only make the situation worse. Fortunately, the cutting didn’t seem to be addictive or frequent, so Smythe believed that if Severus learned more adaptive ways to handle his negative, strong emotions, then he wouldn’t feel that hurting himself was the best option for gaining relief.
The healer did suggest professional intervention once they felt that Severus might be receptive to it, but for now, it would be Albus’ job to help the child learn how to regulate his emotions, mainly by modeling adaptive coping strategies and guiding him through his emotional distress. He would need to show his ward that he would always be there for him, and that it was okay to ask for help. Severus would hopefully come to trust that his guardian would be there to support him when he needed it, and with time, the child would learn how to self-regulate his emotions based on his guardian’s model and support. The additional benefit of this was that Severus would experience and internalize that it was possible to have positive, reliable relationships.
A quiet buzz pulled Albus from his thoughts, his wand vibrating in its holster to alert him that ten minutes had passed. Gazing down at the dark-haired head resting on his desk, he cleared his throat. “Are you ready to have a civil conservation now?
“I was ready before!” came the indignant reply accompanied by a petulant glower.
The headmaster arched an eyebrow. “Evidently not. Head back down, please.”
Severus shot the man a dirty scowl but grudgingly obeyed. It felt like he had been staring at the wood grain of the desk for ages now, but at least this was preferable to a thrashing. His father would’ve had him bent over the desk for a belting he’d never forget if he’d dared to treat the man with such disrespect.
The twelve-year-old felt a wave of shame rush over him as he thought about his earlier behaviour. He had cursed and insulted his guardian and then broken all of the man’s prized trinkets, yet Dumbledore had still protected him from the flying shards that his own destruction had caused. He hadn’t deserved the generosity. He was nothing but an ungrateful waste of space, and anyone in their right mind would send him straight back to his father after such a disgraceful display.
“Severus, look at me, please.”
The second year obediently raised his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. He knew that he deserved to be expelled, but he didn’t want to be sent back to his father. Maybe if he promised to be really good from now on, Dumbledore might agree to give him one last chance?
A warm hand lifted his chin, and Severus fearfully met his guardian’s discerning gaze. To his surprise, he didn’t see any disgust or hatred hidden in the blue orbs, but rather a knowing look of pained understanding. The child felt tears form unbidden in his eyes as he waited for the dreaded words. That his guardian wasn’t going to keep him any longer.
“What you said was not uncalled for,” Dumbledore admitted with a sigh. “I deserved that.”
Severus’ jaw dropped. He had just destroyed the headmaster’s office, and the man was apologizing to him ?
Dumbledore smiled remorsefully. “It is true that I have neglected my duties as your guardian these past months, and while I am glad that you have become closer with your godmother, it was my responsibility to take you shopping and arrange for us to spend time together. When you started testing me with your behaviour, I should have handled it personally instead of treating you like any other student and letting your head of house manage your discipline. Furthermore, I am truly sorry for ever telling you that I didn’t have time for you. I was stressed about the war,” and here his eyes flickered to the melted diadem with the blue sapphire stone, “and I wrongly took out my frustrations on you.”
Severus sat there in shock, struggling to process everything. Did this mean that his guardian hadn’t given up on him yet? That he wasn’t being sent away?
“You will never be a waste of my time,” Dumbledore stated firmly, “and I am honored that your mother asked me to be your guardian.”
The twelve-year-old swallowed hard, not wanting to hope but needing to know. “Are… Are you going to keep me then? Even though I was really horrible?” he asked in a small, quavering voice before quickly averting his eyes to his knees. He looked up in surprise as his guardian came around the desk and knelt down before him, taking his two small hands in one large one.
“I will never send you away, Severus. I promise.”
“Even if I’m really, really bad?”
Dumbledore nodded seriously. “Even then. Now, that isn’t to say that you won’t get in trouble. As I said before, there will be rules I expect you to follow and consequences if you break them.” Seeing the fearful expression on the boy’s face, he quickly elaborated. “I will never hit you like Tobias did, Severus. Consequences will be things like having privileges restricted, early bedtimes, groundings, no dessert, and essays.”
Severus bit his lip and nodded, not really believing his guardian. He was beyond grateful that he wasn’t being expelled, but he knew that no matter what Dumbledore’s intentions were, it was only a matter of time before he messed up badly enough that the only solution would be to send him away forever or give him a good thrashing. Even his mother had said that he’d needed a firm hand to keep him in his place. And although he had tried his hardest to be good for his parents, it had never been enough, and his father had always been forced to administer the belt or cane to teach him a lesson.
“What are the rules, sir?” he asked. The rules had constantly changed at Spinner’s End, but maybe Dumbledore’s rules would be more predictable and easier to obey.
“To start with, no more temper tantrums,” Dumbledore said as he returned to his chair. “I understand that you sometimes struggle to control your emotions, and that is something we will work on, but it is not acceptable to throw and break another’s possessions, is that understood?”
Severus ducked his head, his cheeks burning. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
The headmaster nodded. “Continuing on that line, I expect you to behave in a respectful manner and listen to my instructions. I will also not accept dishonesty, and lies will be dealt with as appropriate. In terms of your classes, I would like to see at least Acceptables in all of your subjects, which I know you are capable of given your intelligence. If you are struggling in a class, then you should be attending that subject’s tutoring hours. Do you have any questions so far?”
“No, sir,” Severus shook his head. The rules seemed simple enough compared to the ones he was used to from Tobias.
“Very good. Now, for the most part, any school rules you break will be dealt with by the relevant professor, unless it is a matter where the headmaster would normally be involved. However, I will not be pleased if I hear from your professors that you are missing classes, not turning in homework assignments, receiving detentions, breaking curfew, etc. It is expected that a professor with a child at Hogwarts is kept informed of their child’s performance, so if anything particularly concerning occurs, then it is a professional courtesy that your professors will offer to hand the matter over to me. Of course, any rules you break that result in putting yourself or others in danger will go straight to me. So, if you are currently entertaining any notions of unsupervised brewing, you’d do well to reconsider,” Dumbledore stated sternly.
Severus shifted guiltily. While he had only been caught brewing unsupervised once, it hadn’t been the first time he’d brewed alone, and he couldn’t deny that he already had plans for another after-curfew potions experiment. Slughorn didn’t allow second years to brew potentially explosive potions during regular student practice hours, so he often ended up brewing his experiments in secret.
“I’m very serious about not endangering your life, young man,” Dumbledore warned, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what’s going through your head right now, but I strongly advise that you heed me in this, or you'll find yourself in trouble quicker than you can say 'quidditch.' Understood?”
The twelve-year-old Slytherin sighed. “Yes, sir,” he replied grudgingly. He wasn’t about to give up his experimental brewing, so he’d just have to find a loophole in the rule.
Dumbledore eyed the boy shrewdly but decided not to pursue the matter. Hopefully the child wouldn’t test him again so soon. “If we are in agreement, then I believe the last matter we need to discuss is your recent behaviour. In the past few weeks, you have skipped an entire day’s worth of classes and assignments, missed mandatory meals and potions, ignored your detentions with Professor Slughorn, and destroyed the staff lounge. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Severus gulped nervously. “I won’t do it again?”
Dumbledore bit back a chuckle, doing his best to keep his expression stern. “I certainly hope not, young man. Now, Madam Pomfrey informed me that she spoke to you regarding your missed meals and potions, so I trust that you were suitably reprimanded and will not be repeating this behaviour, correct?
Severus flushed at the memory of the lecture he’d received and quickly nodded. “Yes, sir. I won’t miss a meal again.” The threat of having his backside stuck to a hospital bed for another week was more than enough to ensure his compliance.
“Excellent,” Dumbledore stated approvingly. “As for your other misdemeanors, I have decided to be lenient given that this misbehaviour was prompted by my negligence. That said, you will serve detention with me every evening until your missing assignments are completed and up to my standards. I will be speaking with your professors to ask if they might be willing to give you half credit for the late assignments. You will also apologize to each professor individually for demolishing the staff room and destroying their personal belongings. Does that sound fair?”
“Yes, sir.” It was hardly even a punishment, and Severus knew it. Even receiving half credit for his assignments would be generous of his professors.
Dumbledore nodded and stood up, looking pleased. “Excellent. Now then, since that’s over, I’d like to show you something. If you’d come with me, please.”
Confused, Severus followed the headmaster out of his office, wondering what the man wanted to show him. “Sir?” he asked, not understanding why they had stopped at the empty landing outside of the door instead of going down the spiral staircase.
“If you would give me your hand, my boy,” Dumbledore requested, a twinkle in his eyes.
Severus hesitated but slowly held out his hand, surprised when his guardian pressed it against the wall. He gasped as a rush of magic coursed through his body, and the majestic outline of a phoenix appeared engraved on the stone. “W-What just happened?”
“You are now keyed into the wards, my boy,” Dumbledore smiled warmly. “Welcome to our quarters.”
Chapter Text
Severus’ eyes widened as the phoenix engraving glowed brightly, and a moment later, a hidden stone door swung open to reveal an elegant foyer. These were clearly the headmaster’s quarters, but why in Merlin’s name was Dumbledore bringing him here? Surely the man didn’t want him underfoot and intruding in his personal rooms.
“What do you think, my boy? Would you like a tour?” Dumbledore asked jovially.
Severus chewed on his lip uncertainly. “I wouldn’t want to impose, sir,” he mumbled. He flinched slightly when a finger was placed under his chin, gently forcing him to look up.
“Severus, as my ward, these quarters are as much mine as they are yours,” Dumbledore explained. “You are welcome here whenever you’d like, and I never want you to feel as though you are imposing. This is your home as well now.”
Severus roughly jerked his chin out of his guardian's grasp, his eyes shining with hurt at what was obviously a cruel joke. “You’re lying,” he accused in a defensive yet miserable tone. “I know you are.” Not even his parents had wanted him in their home, so there was no way that Dumbledore did. This was a trap, and while he didn’t know what his guardian’s ulterior motive was behind this facade of benevolence, he wasn’t going to fall for it.
“Trust goes both ways, Severus,” Dumbledore returned quietly as he rose to his feet. “I have asked that you never lie to me, and I will grant you the same honesty in return. I am not lying when I say that I wish for our quarters to become your home.”
Severus swallowed hard and lowered his gaze. He wanted so badly to believe that he was finally wanted, but he’d been deceived and abandoned far too many times to pretend. No one ever wanted a worthless burden. That’s why the adults always left.
“Come, my boy,” Dumbledore requested, placing a kind hand on his shoulder. “Let me give you a tour.”
As the headmaster guided him through the rooms, Severus was surprised to find that despite his guardian’s rather questionable taste in fashion, his quarters were decorated in a tasteful yet comfortable manner. It was quite spacious compared to what the twelve-year-old was used to at Spinner’s End, with a living room, a private library and study, a dining area, kitchen, and family room. The family room was located near the back of the quarters and was furnished with a velvet couch, two armchairs, and a mahogany coffee table in the middle. On the wall was a beautiful woven tapestry of a phoenix and beneath it sat a cozy fireplace.
“I was hoping that you would be amenable to spending an afternoon in our quarters every weekend. It would be a nice opportunity to chat about your week and review any assignments that you may have found difficult,” Dumbledore suggested mildly.
Severus bristled at the insinuation. “I’m not a dunderhead,” he snapped defensively. “I don’t need to be checked up on like a baby.”
“Watch your tone,” his guardian chided lightly. “I am not implying that you are incapable or unintelligent, but I would like to see an improvement in your history of magic and transfiguration grades. You are a very intelligent young man, and I have no doubt that you could raise your D in history to at least an E if you put more effort into the class.”
“It’s so boring, though,” Severus defended himself. “At least I stay awake during Binns’ lectures and get work done. Most of the students just fall asleep.”
Dumbledore raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “According to your professor, you spend his class period reading potions books and doodling. Needless to say, I do not consider this an acceptable alternative to taking notes on your history lessons.”
“But no one else pays attention,” Severus whined. “Why aren’t you lecturing them as well?”
“Because I am not your classmates’ parents, therefore it is not my place to address their grades unless it is requested of me,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “Your academic performance, however, is my prerogative to oversee given that you are my ward. That said, the next time I speak with Professor Binns. I expect to hear that there have been improvements, understood?”
Severus started to protest, but seeing the warning in his guardian’s eyes, settled for a pout instead. “Yes, sir,” he grudgingly agreed.
“Good lad. Now as for your performance in transfiguration, it appears that your A in the subject is not due to a lack of effort, but rather difficulty with the material. If you are struggling with a concept, your godmother would undoubtedly be more than happy to arrange for additional tutoring. She already privately tutors a handful of students who have requested it, and I’m sure she’d be thrilled to do the same for you. There is no shame in asking for help, my boy.”
Severus fidgeted uncomfortably, inwardly conflicted. Asking for help always made him feel stupid and vulnerable, but he knew that he was barely scraping an A in the class, and he didn’t want to fail. It was also bloody humiliating that Potter and Black were practically transfiguration prodigies while he still struggled with simple first-year transfigurations like turning a matchstick into a needle. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask McGonagall for help once or twice? “I’ll consider it,” he mumbled.
“I am glad to hear that,” Dumbledore smiled encouragingly. “Now then, let us finish our tour, my boy. There is one last room that I wish to show you, and I do believe you’ll find it to your liking.”
Severus tilted his head in confusion, wondering why it mattered whether he liked it or not. It certainly wasn’t his place to comment on his guardian’s choice of decor. Perhaps it had something to do with potions?
“Ah, here we are, my boy,” Dumbledore said jovially, pushing open the door. “What do you think?”
Severus shot his guardian a questioning look. “Erm, you have a very nice bedroom, sir,” he said awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.
Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes twinkling. “This is not my bedroom, dear boy. This is yours. I tried to decorate it, but do let me know if you’d like anything changed,” he said, nudging him through the doorway.
Severus stumbled forwards in disbelief, his eyes widening as he looked around. Against the wall was a four-poster bed with a fluffy emerald duvet and a nightstand on the side. Next to it sat a desk and chair, a tall bookshelf with a few books already in it, and an oak dresser with brass handles. The wall opposite the bed had a large octagon window which overlooked the lake, and resting in the corner was a plush, comfy beanbag.
It was perfect, and Severus knew with absolute certainty that he did not deserve it. He had been nothing but rude and defiant to his guardian, and ungrateful brats like him had no right to live in this luxury. Back at Spinner’s End, his bedroom had been a cot shoved into an old storage closet that could be locked only from the outside, a feature that his father had personally ensured. Freaks like him didn’t deserve privileges like the comfort of a nice room, Tobias had said.
“Do you not like it, my boy?” Dumbledore asked, looking a bit concerned.
Severus squeezed his eyes tightly shut and shook his head. “I can’t… I don’t deserve this. You’re making a mistake.”
He heard Dumbledore sigh, and then he felt warm, gentle hands on his shoulders. But he still didn’t open his eyes. He just couldn’t.
“My dear boy, every child deserves a bedroom, no matter what you may have been told by your parents. This is your room now, and it will never be taken away.”
Severus clamped his hands over his ears and vehemently shook his head again. “No no no. Father says I’m bad, and bad freaks don’t deserve nice things,” he mumbled repeatedly.
Dumbledore’s heart thumped painfully as he listened to the young child recite what was clearly a line he’d heard many times. Oh, if he had just five minutes alone with Tobias Snape, he’d make the vile man regret ever hurting Severus. It wouldn’t be too difficult to pull some strings at the Ministry… but right now, he needed to focus on his ward. “That is not true, Severus, do you hear me? You deserve the comforts that all children should be given.”
“No! You don't get it,” Severus struggled as his hands were gently tugged away from his head. He was bad, and bad kids didn’t deserve nice things!
“What don’t I get, Severus?”
“That I’m bad,” the twelve-year-old cried, onyx eyes filled with frustration and anguish. “I break rules, and I’m rude and disrespectful. I just can’t be good no matter how hard I try!”
Dumbledore sighed sadly. “Children are not either good or bad, Severus. We all make mistakes, and part of what a parent or guardian is supposed to do is to help you learn from those mistakes so that you don’t repeat the behaviour that got you into trouble in the first place. But your behaviour has no effect on whether or not you deserve your own room in our quarters.”
Severus was silent for a moment. Then, his shoulders slumped in realization. “Oh, I get it. You just feel sorry for me, don’t you?” That had to be it; Dumbledore was a Gryffindor and probably felt guilty for ignoring him before, and the bedroom was his consolation prize. That was the only reason that made sense.
But to his surprise, his guardian shook his head.
“No, my boy, your room is not meant as an apology or a pity gesture. I had your bedroom prepared the day I accepted your guardianship. The only reason I didn’t show it to you before was because I didn’t want you to feel pressured to spend time in our quarters given that you’d expressed a desire to maintain distance. That, and my own shortcomings and misgivings, for which I apologize.”
Severus merely stared at him, utterly bewildered. “But… but you already knew that I was nothing but trouble at that point.”
“I was aware of your propensity for rule-breaking when I read your mother’s request,” Dumbledore acknowledged with a wry chuckle. “I accepted it anyway because it was the right thing to do.”
The twelve-year-old’s brow furrowed. So Dumbledore had accepted his guardianship out of a moral obligation. That wasn’t unexpected for a Gryffindor like him. But then why had the man gone through the extra effort of giving him his own room? Legally, all that was required of his guardian was that he keep him alive until he turned seventeen. “I don’t understand,” he admitted in a small, confused voice.
Dumbledore met his gaze unwaveringly. “Once I signed those guardianship papers, you became my ward and responsibility, Severus. I admit that I have failed you these past few months, but that will not happen again. You are now mine to care for and protect, no matter how much mischief you get into. And part of that includes providing you with your own room and a home outside of your dormitory.”
Severus listened stiffly, his nails digging into his skin as he fought the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. Neither his mother nor father had ever claimed him as theirs to care for unconditionally, and he didn’t know how to react. Part of him was desperate to accept his guardian’s promises, but another part sternly reminded him that as wonderful as this seemed right now, it wasn’t going to last. That he shouldn’t let himself become attached, clinging to the first sign of affection from others, because then he’d be alone again, and it would hurt even worse. It was inevitable that he would get hurt if he let his guard down. Because adults always left. But… but what if by some miracle, it was different this time?
“May I be excused, please?” he asked abruptly in a strained voice, suddenly overwhelmed by a desperate need to get away.
“You may go,” Dumbledore agreed understandingly. “But please remember that my door is always open if you'd like to talk.”
Severus nodded jerkily. Then, turning on his heel, he fled.
Chapter Text
The seventh-floor hallway by Barnabas the Barmy had never seemed to hold any significance, which is why Severus found himself rather confused by Lily’s request to meet by the strange tapestry. The note she’d slipped him earlier hadn’t provided many details, only the location and a few cryptic words instructing him to think of a secret meeting place three times. Severus had no idea what she had been trying to tell him, but here he was, pacing up and down the corridor, wondering why his friend thought that meeting on the seventh floor was better than their usual secret alcove where they were hidden from spying classmates.
“Psst, Sev!”
The dark-haired boy’s head whipped around, eyes darting around for the source of the hushed whisper. “Lily?” he asked tentatively.
“Over here, Sev. C’mon!”
Severus’ eyes widened as he spotted his friend’s head peeking out of a door that he swore hadn’t been there a second ago. “But how—”
“I’ll explain in a second, just get inside before someone sees us,” Lily interrupted, gesturing anxiously.
Nodding in agreement, Severus hurriedly slipped through the door and closed it securely behind him. Turning around, he gasped. “Merlin, what is this place?”
“It’s called the Room of Requirement,” Lily explained. “It can become whatever you need it to be. I thought about wanting a secret place to meet a friend, and the room created this,” she said, waving her hand.
“Blimey,” Severus breathed in amazement. A moment later, his eyes lit up as he spotted a giant plush bean bag with an animated cauldron pattern sitting in the corner. “Called it,” he shouted, bounding over and happily flinging himself down into it.
Lily rolled her eyes and easily took a seat in the other bean bag. “No need to fear, potions boy. I wasn’t planning on stealing your precious fluffy cauldron,” she teased.
Severus stuck out his tongue in retaliation, giggling when his friend returned the childish gesture. “How did you even find this place?” he asked in wonder.
“Erm, well, Remus told me about it,” Lily admitted with a guilty smile.
Severus shot to his feet in alarm. “That means that Potter and Black know about it! They’re probably planning an ambush as we speak,” he panicked. “Why on earth would you trust a marauder?”
Lily placed a calming hand on his arm. “Remus promised not to tell, Sev. And besides, I asked for a secret place for the two of us to meet, so no one else will be able to enter while we’re in here.”
The potions prodigy gnawed on his lip worriedly. “That doesn’t mean Lupin won’t tell his friends where we are. You know that Potter and Black live to make my life miserable.”
“I know, Sev,” Lily said sympathetically. “But Remus won’t tell. Trust me.”
Severus grumbled but after receiving one of his friend’s infamous looks, reluctantly sank back into his bean bag. “Fine. But I still don’t think you should be so trusting of Lupin. Don’t you think it's strange that he always disappears every month? He must be getting up to something because no one gets sick that often.”
“Remus has a chronic condition,” Lily defended her housemate. “And Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey know about it, so it’s none of our business if Remus doesn’t want to share the details.”
With a sigh, Severus conceded defeat. He was still rather suspicious of the Gryffindor boy, but he would keep his thoughts to himself until he had proof of what his classmate was up to. There was no point in sharing unfounded suspicions.
“How have you been?” he asked, changing the subject. “Flitwick was singing your praises to all of the second-year classes this afternoon. I think someone has a favorite student,” he teased in a sing-song voice.
Lily blushed furiously and playfully smacked his arm. “It’s not like Slughorn is any different when ‘our resident potions prodigy’ brews another potion at OWL-level quality.”
Severus scoffed lightly. “Oh, please. Slughorn only started acknowledging me after he realized that I might be worth ‘collecting’ as long as I have Dumbledore as my guardian.”
“Hmph, well at least he’s recognizing you, even if his motives are less than honorable,” Lily sniffed disdainfully.
Severus smiled self-deprecatingly. “Slytherins aren’t exactly known for their honor and chivalry, you know.”
The second year Gryffindor shook her head. “That’s no excuse, Sev. Besides, it’s not like the house we’re sorted into should define our identities. I’m sure there are honorable Slytherins, just as there are brave Hufflepuffs, cunning Ravenclaws, and hardworking Gryffindors.”
Severus snorted bitterly. “Try telling that to Potter and Black. To them, all Slytherins are slimy snakes and Death Eater wannabes who deserve to be sent straight to Azkaban from the minute we’re sorted.”
“Oh, Sev,” Lily said softly. The last time the marauders had harassed her friend, she’d hexed them with a slug belching spell that even Madam Pomfrey had been unable to counter. Black and Potter had been spewing out slugs for an hour, and even though she’d gotten detention, it had been well worth it to see the two get a taste of their own medicine. Unfortunately, it clearly hadn’t deterred them for long. “I take it they’ve been bullying you again?”
The twelve-year-old Slytherin nodded stiffly, his fists clenching as he fought the prickles in the corner of his eyes. “Black especially. He’s been even more cruel this year than he was last, especially after Dumbledore took over my guardianship. He backed off for a bit around September, but now he’s back to hating me. I dunno what I did, but I clearly royally pissed him off.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t anything you did,” Lily insisted. “Sirius has always seemed a bit… mentally unstable, to be honest.”
“He’s a right bloody bastard, is what he is,” Severus muttered.
“Language, Sev. His parents were in fact married at his birth,” Lily joked half-heartedly, trying to lighten the mood. “I think ‘bloody, gormless knobhead’ fits better.”
A slight smirk graced Severus’ lips. “Why Ms. Evans, what would your parents say if they knew their innocent baby girl used such vulgar language?” he teased playfully.
Lily shot him a dirty look. “Breathe even one word about this, Severus Snape, and you’ll regret it,” she threatened. “I do not fancy spending my winter holiday grounded.”
Severus sniggered. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said innocently.
The Gryffindor’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Just remember, I only need six words to get my revenge.”
“Oh?” Severus questioned a bit uneasily.
Lily smiled sweetly. “Severus isn’t feeling well, Madam Pomfrey.”
Severus clutched his heart dramatically. “You wouldn’t!” he gasped. “You’d condemn your best friend to prison?”
Lily rolled her eyes. “And you call Gryffindors dramatic,” she muttered.
Severus huffed indignantly. “Well, excuse me, but the last time I ended up in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey glued my butt to the bed for an entire day!”
“Then you’d best keep quiet about my vocabulary when you next see my parents, hmm?” Lily smirked.
The potions prodigy crossed his arms and pouted. “You would’ve done well in Slytherin, you manipulative meanie.”
“Why thank you,” Lily returned smugly, laughing at his surprised expression. “Oh, stop sulking, Sev. Do you still need help preparing for our transfiguration exam?”
Severus sighed and opened his book bag. “That’d be great, thanks. Do you happen to have the notes from that lesson I missed back in September?”
“I should, just give me one sec,” Lily said, rummaging through her notes. “Why did you miss transfiguration that day? Were you not feeling well?”
Severus fidgeted uncomfortably. “Erm, not exactly. Black ambushed me in the hallway right before class, and I lost my wand. So, I decided not to go that day.”
Lily gave him a gentle but knowing look. “It’s okay if you don’t want to share the whole story, Sev. But I’ll always be here if you do. Do you want to go over my notes together?”
Severus swallowed hard past the sudden lump in his throat. He didn’t deserve to have a friend as kind and supportive as Lily. The least he could do was tell her the truth. “No, I—I want to tell you.” He took a deep breath, trying to hide the shame he felt at the memory. “Black pinned me against the wall right before class. I tried to fight back, but I was too weak and ended up disarmed and bound on the floor. Black then used my own wand to cast a silencing charm before dumping me into the broom cupboard and locking the door.” He kept his eyes down when he’d finished, not wanting to see his friend’s disgust at his worthlessness.
A tense moment of silence passed, then an enraged cry filled the room.
“Black did what?” Lily exploded furiously, jumping to her feet. “I swear, I’ll hex his bollocks off!” she seethed, sparks flying dangerously from the end of her wand.
“Y-You’re not ashamed of me?” Severus asked in a timid voice.
“Ashamed of you? Why on earth—Sev, the only person who should be ashamed of himself is Sirius Black!” Lily exclaimed, pacing back and forth.
Severus slumped in relief. He knew that his actions had been pathetic that day, but he should have known that his best friend wouldn’t abandon him so quickly. “Thanks, Lily. But it’s not that big of a deal really.”
“Not that big of a deal!?” The Gryffindor whirled around to face him, her eyes narrowed. “You did tell a professor about this, right? You can’t just let Black get away with it.”
The dark-haired boy nodded. “I told McGonagall who said that she’d take care of it.”
“Alright, that’s good… Oh, that must be why Black is banned from the quidditch team this term!” Lily gasped.
Severus’ eyes widened incredulously. “McGonagall banned him from quidditch for the entire term?”
Lily nodded. “She said something about making the punishment fit the crime, and that since he was so fond of locking things in broom cupboards, he would be happy to hear that his own broom would be locked away until the winter holidays. Everyone was shocked at the time, but after learning what he did to you, McGonagall’s punishment makes perfect sense!”
“Wow,” Severus breathed. He had expected Black to receive a couple of detentions at most, but McGonagall had actually given her lion a truly fitting consequence. A tingly yet warm sensation spread through his chest as he realized that his godmother had kept her word to him. She had actually believed his side of the story and then ensured that justice was served. It was the first time an adult in his life had ever done that.
“Hey, Sev?” Lily interrupted his thoughts, wearing a puzzled frown. “I’m glad that McGonagall took care of everything, but why didn’t you go to Dumbledore instead? Since he’s your guardian, shouldn’t he be looking after you?”
Severus chewed on his lip and looked away. “Dumbledore and I weren’t on speaking terms at the time. And McGonagall was the one who caught us dueling afterwards, so it made sense that she handled it.”
“Oh,” Lily said softly. “You—you said that the headmaster’s gotten better though, that he’s no longer ignoring you? That’s good, right?”
The twelve-year-old sighed deeply. “I’m his charity case, Lily. He even gave me my own bedroom because he felt sorry for me, even though he claims that’s not the reason. But I know that he only took me in because my mum asked her to in his will. I don’t want to be even more of a burden than I already am by bothering him with my stupid schoolboy problems,” he admitted quietly.
“Severus Snape! You are not a burden, and don’t you dare say that again,” Lily cried indignantly. “I’m sure Dumbledore is thrilled to have you as his ward.”
Severus studied his knees intently. “I’m not good like you, Lily. I’m the bad, troubled type of kid that no one ever wants even though they’ll lie through their teeth and try not to show it. Most adults are pretty good actors when they want to be, but I know that I’m nothing more than that unwanted boy from Spinner’s End.”
“That’s not true, Sev! My parents like you,” Lily argued. “And Tuney is just a bully, so her opinion doesn’t count.”
“Please, Lily,” Severus sighed, giving her a deadpan look. “Our muggle primary teachers weren’t exactly subtle when they gossiped about the delinquent boy with a drunk bum of a father and a delusional mother. And while your parents have always been very kind to me, you can’t expect me to believe that they don’t have their concerns about our friendship.”
Lily bit her lip. She couldn’t deny that, and Severus knew it. Raising her chin, she determinedly crossed her arms. “We’ll just have to prove them all wrong, then,” she declared.
Severus raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And just how do you propose we do that?”
“Easy. We just need to get you to smile more often, and then you’ll seem friendlier and less moody,” Lily stated as if it were obvious. Taking out her wand, she gave it a casual twirl and shot him with a sly smirk. “Lucky for you, I happen to know just the charm to help.”
Severus’ eyes widened comically as he hastily tried to backtrack. “Wait a sec now—”
“Don’t worry, Sev. After all, Professor Flitwick was singing my praises all afternoon, isn’t that what you said?” she asked innocently.
Severus scrambled for cover with an alarmed yelp, but he wasn’t quick enough to escape his best friend’s wand.
“Rictusempra!”
His knees instantly buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor in a heap of laughter. It felt like a thousand feathers were tickling every inch of his body, relentless in their attack as he helplessly squirmed and squealed.
“See, Sev? You have a lovely smile,” Lily beamed with an amused glint in her eyes.
Severus barely managed to reply as he was mercilessly tormented with the tickling charm. “Lily!” he shrieked before collapsing into giggles again. “Staaaahp!”
The spell was lifted a moment later, leaving him panting for breath as he scowled up at his sniggering best friend. “I’m going to get you for that, Lily Evans,” he threatened, pushing himself back onto his bean bag.
Lily smirked knowingly. “I’m absolutely quivering in my boots.”
The second year Slytherin huffed indignantly but didn’t bother contradicting her. It was a well-known fact that Lily was the best charms student in their year, and while Severus wasn’t as Slytherin as some, he did still have enough self-preservation to not want to incur her wrath.
“If your master plan is to attack me with the tickling charm whenever we’re in public, then I’m afraid I must decline to participate,” he drawled sarcastically.
Lily grinned impishly and plopped herself down beside him on the bean bag. “So, what I’m hearing is that I should use the cheering charm instead?”
Severus rolled his eyes and bumped her with his shoulder. “Don’t you remember what Flitwick said, Lily? You should use your powers for good rather than evil. And torturing your poor best friend with charms is definitely evil,” he finished solemnly.
The red-haired girl snorted. “Flitwick never said that, Sev.”
“He didn’t? Well, he should’ve,” Severus grumbled half-heartedly.
“It’s a pity, you know,” Lily lamented, her eyes glimmering with mischief. “I had a great idea for a prank, but if I shouldn’t use my powers for evil, then perhaps you don’t want to hear about a charm combined with a potion that will temporarily turn the heads of houses into their house animals…”
Severus’ eyes lit up, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Well, I’m sure a small little prank meant for everyone’s amusement wouldn’t really count as evil.”
Lily arched a smug eyebrow. “Oh? Then you’d like to hear more?”
“But of course,” Severus smirked conspiratorially. “After all, creative minds inspire others, and who am I to stifle that?”
His best friend laughed. “Well, if you insist, here’s what I was thinking...”
Chapter Text
It was Severus’ fourth and hopefully final night of detention with his guardian. Dumbledore had requested that he work on both his daily homework and his missing assignments during their meetings, so the twelve-year-old had been spending every evening that week in their family room working on his essays. Thankfully, the second years only had about an hour of homework every night, so his detentions had been surprisingly tolerable.
“Are you almost finished, my boy?” Dumbledore asked, glancing up from his paperwork to survey the child sitting across from him.
“Uh huh,” Severus nodded, his brow scrunched up in concentration as he wrote the final sentences of his transfiguration essay. It was almost parental, he reflected, to have Dumbledore sitting with him at the table while he did his homework. He knew that Lily’s parents had often had their children work on homework at the kitchen counter after school, but he had never expected to have an adult who cared enough to sit with him. It was rather… nice.
The only downside was that his guardian insisted on checking his assignments over and making corrections. The twelve-year-old had thought that his essays were decent, but Dumbledore always returned them with enough red ink to make him groan. Part of his punishment was that he wasn’t allowed to leave until all of his homework was revised and rewritten to meet his guardian’s standards. Unfortunately for Severus, the headmaster had held the transfiguration professorship previously, which meant that those essays were subjected to extra scrutiny. This was the second time that night that he’d been instructed to rewrite McGonagall’s stupid essay on animal to inanimate object transformations.
“Done,” the dark-haired child exclaimed, throwing his quill down and pushing back his chair. He was about to start packing up when he heard Dumbledore clear his throat expectantly. Biting back a groan, Severus reluctantly shoved his essay across the table before slouching down in his seat and crossing his arms.
“I’ve already rewritten it twice. Can’t I go now?” he complained, swinging his feet impatiently.
“Pouting and whining aren’t going to help your case, my boy,” the headmaster replied, hiding a chuckle as the child spluttered indignantly. Skimming through the essay, he nodded approvingly when he saw that his ward had made the edits and added a section on wand movements. “Very good, Severus. This will most certainly receive an O from Professor McGonagall.”
Severus blushed faintly, ducking his head at the praise. He wasn’t used to receiving compliments from adults, so he never knew how to react.
“And now that the last of your missing assignments is complete, you can hand this in to your godmother along with an apology, and your detentions will be over,” Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling. “I’m sure you are eager to have your evenings free again.”
Severus nodded sheepishly before gathering up his supplies and assignments and following the headmaster out the door. He had already apologized to Flitwick, Sprout, and Slughorn earlier in the week, and all three had graciously agreed to give him half credit for his late assignments.
Now, he just needed to survive one last apology to McGonagall. Not that he was expecting anything to go wrong; the professor hadn’t been cold to him in class or anything, quite the opposite really. But he still couldn’t help but fear that she might decide that this was the perfect opportunity to renounce her position as godmother so that she’d no longer have to deal with him.
The sound of his guardian knocking on the professor’s door drew Severus’ attention back to the present, and he squared his shoulders, mentally rehearsing his apology.
“Come on in,” McGonagall called through the door. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise. What brings the two of you here this evening?” she asked with a warm smile.
Severus awkwardly shuffled forward as his guardian nudged him from behind. “I’m very sorry for trashing the staff lounge and destroying any belongings you may have kept in there. I promise that I won’t do anything like that ever again,” he said in a small voice.
“Look at me, please.”
The twelve-year-old timidly raised his head, terrified that he might find hatred and loathing in his godmother’s eyes. Instead, he was only met with a soft look of understanding and fondness. Was it fondness for him? Even after he’d messed up once again?
“Thank you for your apology. You are forgiven,” McGonagall said with a gentle pat on his shoulder.
Severus’ eyes watered, and he quickly ducked his head to hide his face. His father had never forgiven him when he’d messed up, always saying that he was bad and couldn’t be fixed. But McGonagall still wanted to be his godmother. He wasn’t being rejected or turned away. “Thanks,” he mumbled, trying to cover his sniffle as a cough.
The warm hand that settled on his back told him that his pathetic reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed, and he instinctively stiffened. Tobias had despised it when he’d cried, saying that tears were only for weaklings, and that no one wanted a pansy son. Surely Dumbledore wouldn’t want a pansy boy as his ward. “I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered, hoping that it might appease his guardian.
“There’s no reason to apologize to me, my boy,” Dumbledore frowned, glancing down at him with a confused expression.
Severus didn’t bother responding. It was safer to keep his head down and hope that the man would forget about his weakness.
“Albus mentioned that you should be finished with the essay I assigned last week,” McGonagall spoke softly, crouching down before him and trying to make eye contact.
The twelve-year-old nodded but studiously stared at his shoes. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was feeling inside, but he was suddenly rather confused and conflicted. Adults were supposed to get mad at him and yell and hit, but that had yet to happen, and he didn’t understand why.
“I believe it’s in his book satchel,” Dumbledore offered quietly.
McGonagall nodded. “Can I see your assignment, Severus?”
Severus silently stuffed his hand into his book satchel and took out the scroll of parchment, holding it out with a slightly trembling hand, his eyes still averted.
“Thank you. I need to have a quick word with your guardian in private, and then he’ll be right out to escort you back to your dormitory, okay?”
Severus nodded again, letting himself be gently guided outside of the office. As soon as the door closed and a silencing charm went up, he slumped against the wall and hid his face in his hands. Nothing was making sense, and his dumb self couldn’t even figure out why he was acting like such a weak, emotional brat. He desperately needed to shape up, or it would be no time at all before Dumbledore sent him back to Tobias.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here? A slimy snake all alone in lion territory,” a familiar voice drawled.
Severus’ head jerked up and he scrambled into a defensive stance, his hand flying for his wand. “What do you want, Black?” he growled.
The other boy merely smirked. “Nothing. Just wondering what little baby Snivellus is doing so far away from the dungeons. You don’t want to miss curfew, do you? What would your new daddy say?” he mocked.
Severus’ face turned red with humiliation. “Sod off, Black. Not all of us have mummies and daddies who coddle us. Bet you sat on your dumb arse and were fed with a silver spoon all your life.”
Now it was Black’s turn to snarl. “You don’t know a thing about my family, Snivellus. You don’t deserve a guardian as great as Dumbledore.”
“Hit a nerve, did I?” Severus shot back with a smirk.
“Well, at least I didn't have to be dragged to the hospital wing at the beginning of term,” Black sneered viciously. “Did poor little Snivellus have a boo-boo that needed a kiss?”
Severus paled. No, he couldn’t have seen that. No one except McGonagall had been in the halls that night! Black was bluffing. He had to be. “You’ve clearly been sniffing too many potions fumes, Black. Unfortunately for you, there’s nothing in the world that will raise your dismal IQ,” he retorted stiffly.
The Gryffindor barked out a laugh. “If anyone’s been sniffing potions fumes, it’s you, you greasy git. Even Evans finally got the hint. Haven’t seen you following her around like a lost puppy recently. She finally tell you to shove off?”
Severus glowered at the other boy hatefully. He despised keeping his friendship with Lily a secret, but it was the only solution they had for now. “Go to hell, you prick.”
“I’m not surprised, you know,” Black continued casually, smirking at his reaction. “Everyone knows you’re nothing but a weak, snivelling coward. I guess Evans finally realized it as well.”
“You’re one to talk, Black. You and your pathetic sidekicks always attack me four against one. In fact, I’m surprised they’re not here with you now. I noticed you haven’t drawn your wand yet. Scared you’d lose in a real duel?” Severus spat back.
Black’s eyes darkened. “As if. Dumbledore might pretend that he likes you now that he’s your guardian, but don’t forget, my mates and I are all Gryffindors. He’s favored his old house for as long as he’s worked here, and a slimy little snake like you isn’t going to change that.”
Severus bared his teeth. He knew that the lion was telling the truth, and that made it even worse. “Sod off and leave me the hell alone, or I’ll curse you so badly you won’t even remember your own name,” he threatened.
Black smiled mockingly. “What are you going to do, Snivellus, when your new daddy gets sick of you?” he taunted softly. “Will you cry like a baby when he sends you back to your real muggle daddy?”
It was as if a trigger had been pulled, and all that was left was a billowing wave of dark fury. Severus dimly registered the sound of his wand clattering to the floor as he launched himself at his nemesis, only the element of surprise allowing him to tackle the bigger boy to the ground. His mind was blank except for the burning desire for revenge—he needed to make Black pay. To make him shut up for speaking the truth that he wanted so desperately to forget.
“Gerroff me, you psycho!” Black shouted angrily, landing a punch of his own.
Severus retaliated with all of his strength, his determination and rage making up for his smaller size. Locked together, the two wrestled for dominance, trying their best to pummel the crap out of the other.
“Let go. Now,” a steel voice ordered in his ear.
Severus didn’t have time to process the owner of the voice before he was bodily hauled off of the other boy by a strong grip on his shirt collar.
“What is going on here?” McGonagall demanded, her eyes resembling dark thunderclouds. She was holding a struggling Sirius back, while Dumbledore kept a firm hold on Severus.
“It was all Snivellus’ fault!” Black yelled, pointing an accusing finger.
“Was not! You started it!” Severus hollered back.
“You’re nothing but a weak, sniveling baby, you slimy Slytherin!”
“Take that back, you mangy mutt with flobberworms for brains!”
“Make me,” Black taunted.
Severus snarled and twisted furiously in Dumbledore’s grip, but the hand on his upper arm only tightened in warning until he gave up struggling. Catching Black’s triumphant smirk, his eyes filled with angry, humiliated tears, but he refused to let them fall in front of the other boy.
“Enough.” Dumbledore didn’t raise his voice, but the single word was enough to instantly silence both boys. “You do not have to like each other, but this incessant fighting between you two cannot continue. I am very disappointed in you both.”
Severus ignored the headmaster in favour of glaring daggers at his classmate, satisfied to see that he’d managed to land a few hits on the bigger boy. He could feel a bruise forming on his own cheek, but at least the git had a bloody nose by the look of it.
“Professor Dumbledore is correct. You boys must learn to get over your hatred for one another,” McGonagall admonished sternly. She squared her shoulder and sighed. “And as much as it pains me to do this, that will be thirty points from both your houses.”
Severus’ attention snapped back, his mouth dropping open in horror. Thirty points! That would put Slytherin into second place for the House Cup! His housemates were going to curse the bloody crap out of him when they found out why they’d lost their lead. His eyes darted to Black who looked similarly horrified.
“But Professor, you can’t!” Black exclaimed.
McGonagall’s nostrils flared. “Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, Mr. Black.”
“But that’ll put Gryffindor in last place. Sniv-Snape attacked me first, so he should have more points taken away! I was just defending myself!” the boy argued, looking pleadingly at the headmaster.
Severus stiffened, a familiar sting of hurt and resignation rushing through him. It was true that Dumbledore had always favored his old house, and he had no reason to expect that this time would be any different. This was far from the first time he and a marauder had been sent to the headmaster after a fight, and Severus had always been punished more harshly than the golden Gryffindors. Seeing his guardian preparing to respond, he schooled his expression as best he could, determined not to let Black see his hurt when Dumbledore acquiesced.
“Are you telling me that you did nothing to provoke your classmate, Mr. Black?” Dumbledore probed, a knowing eyebrow raised.
The Gryffindor shuffled awkwardly. “I might’ve said a few things,” he mumbled. “But c’mon, Professor! Snape’s a Slytherin!”
Severus hunched his shoulders, his eyes averted to the floor as he waited for the verdict to come. He hoped that the headmaster would be merciful and not deduct too many more points from Slytherin. His housemates would absolutely murder him if they fell behind Gryffindor.
“I am well aware of Mr. Snape’s house, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore said coolly, eliciting a shocked reaction from both boys and an approving one from his deputy headmistress. “I admit that I have been lenient with Gryffindor in the past, but rest assured, I am doing my best to correct this error of judgement. A student’s house should have no influence on their treatment by others.”
Severus would have smirked at the flabbergasted expression on Black’s face if he hadn’t been so astonished himself. Was Albus Gryffindors-can-do-no-wrong Dumbledore actually admitting to his favoritism for his old house? Black seemed to be having the same train of thought because the boy immediately started spluttering.
“But, sir! You can’t mean that. Professor, you don’t agree, right?” Black protested, turning to his head of house.
McGonagall pursed her lips. “I most certainly do, Mr. Black. I may be the Head of Gryffindor, but that does not mean that my lions should be treated better than any other student who graces these halls.” Ignoring her gaping charge, she turned to the headmaster. “I believe I will escort Mr. Black to the hospital wing now as it is getting quite late.”
“Of course, Professor McGonagall.” As she led the aghast Gryffindor away, Dumbledore turned to face his ward. “Severus, are you injured as well?”
The twelve-year-old shook his head. His face and stomach were starting to smart from where Black had landed a few good hits, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.
“Very well. Then let us go to our quarters. We need to have a little chat.”
Severus’ heart sank as he processed Dumbledore’s ominous words. The man had a gentle but firm hand on the back of his neck, so he knew that wouldn’t be able to run even though he wanted to. Silent tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as he thought about what his guardian would want to talk about. He had messed up big time again, and now Dumbledore was probably going to send him back to his father.
“Take a seat, my boy,” Dumbledore ordered as they entered their quarters, releasing him and gesturing to the couch.
The twelve-year-old wordlessly obeyed, his head still ducked. A hand gently lifted his chin, and he shrank back instinctively. “I’m sorry,” he whispered plaintively.
The headmaster sighed as he noticed the faint color that was beginning to form on the child’s left cheek. Summoning a bruise balm, he knelt down and scooped a generous amount onto his fingers. “I expect you to tell me if you are hurt, my boy,” he chided lightly. “Do not hide your injuries from me.”
Severus flinched but meekly allowed his guardian to treat his smarting cheek, surprised by the unwarranted gentleness. It was just like when McGonagall had soothed his sore hand after writing lines, except this time it was his actual guardian caring for him. The thought brought even more tears to his eyes, and he fought furiously to keep them from spilling. He knew better than to get attached. It wouldn’t last. It never did.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Severus started to shake his head, only to be stopped by a raised finger.
“No more lies, please,” Dumbledore added quietly.
The twelve-year-old hesitated. His stomach was starting to throb rather badly, but he could probably treat it himself once he went back to his dorm room. Should he tell his guardian?
“Would you prefer that we take a visit to Madam Pomfrey?”
Severus vigorously shook his head. If he was taken to the mediwitch, then she might notice the cuts on his thigh. He couldn’t risk that. He was already enough of a freak as it was.
“Then please show me where else you’re hurt,” his guardian requested, his tone soft yet unyielding.
Severus fidgeted under the expectant look before hesitantly tugging up his shirt to reveal his sore midsection.
“Oh my, that’s quite the bruise that’s forming,” Dumbledore murmured, tenderly applying more bruise balm onto the boy’s stomach.
Severus watched him silently, swallowing hard as his guardian recapped the jar and cleaned his hands. “Are… Are you going to get rid of me now?” he asked in a small, tremulous voice.
Dumbledore’s head jerked up, his heart thumping painfully as he took in the sight of the scared, trembling twelve-year-old on the couch. “No, child,” he said sincerely, taking both of the boy’s hands in his own. “I am never going to get rid of you. I know that it might take some time before you believe me, but there’s nothing you can do that will make me give you up.”
Severus nodded, a wave of grateful relief flooding his body. Black was right in that it was only a matter of time before he did something that caused Dumbledore to change his mind, but at least he wasn’t being returned to his father’s wrath just yet. “Thank you, sir.”
“You do not need to thank me, my boy,” Dumbledore replied quietly. “All children deserve an adult who will look after them.”
Severus didn’t reply, instead averting his eyes to his knees. That wasn’t true. The good children deserved an adult who cared, but he wasn’t a good kid. He was a bad kid, and worthless burdens didn’t deserve anything nice. But he was too weak and cowardly to present himself for the well-deserved beating that Tobias would undoubtedly give him as soon as the man got his meaty hands on him again, so he would accept Dumbledore’s charity for as long as it lasted.
“Are you listening to me, my boy?”
Severus started and blushed faintly. “Sorry, sir. What did you say?”
“I asked if we could discuss what happened this evening with Mr. Black.”
Severus crossed his arms, a sullen demeanor overtaking him before he could stop it. He wanted to be obedient and well-behaved, he really did, but it just wasn’t fair! The headmaster had said that he and Black would be punished equally, but now here he was getting lectured extra!
“I will not make you share, but—”
“It’s not fair!” Severus burst out, his sense of self-preservation overridden against his will. “Black provoked me, and now I’m getting in more trouble while he isn’t!”
“I am not increasing your punishment,” Dumbledore countered calmly. “But I would like to work through what happened so that this can be avoided in the future.”
Severus scowled. “Tell your bloody Gryffindors to leave me alone, and it won’t happen again.”
“Language, young man,” the headmaster scolded. “While I understand that you do not start the majority of these confrontations, there are some reactions that are appropriate and others that are not. Punching your classmate is one of those that is not.”
Severus bit his lip unhappily. He knew that hitting was wrong, except when it was a father properly disciplining his worthless son, but Black had punched him back! So it wasn’t fair if he was the only one being lectured. “Is Black getting told off now as well?”
Dumbledore tilted his head. “I believe Mr. Black has been escorted back to Gryffindor tower.”
“Then why are you lecturing me extra?” Severus cried, bunching his hands into frustrated fists.
“Because you are my ward, and Mr. Black is not,” Dumbledore replied. “I want to see you become the best young man that you can be, and that means helping you learn and grow from your mistakes. So that is why you are being lectured extra, as you put it.”
Severus deflated. He was being ungrateful again. His father was right that he would never be anything other than a worthless brat. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I promise I won’t do it again.”
Dumbledore sighed at the clear expression of self-loathing on the young child’s face. “I am not trying to shame you, my boy. I understand that it can be difficult to express strong emotions, but there are ways that don’t involve physically lashing out. Can you think of any options that don’t involve hitting or hexing?”
Severus chewed on his lip. He knew that he struggled to control his temper, but it was so hard to stay calm with Black was constantly provoking him! “I… I don’t know, sir.”
“How about we brainstorm some possibilities together then? Would you be willing to do that?” Dumbledore asked.
Severus blinked, baffled by his guardian’s response. “Uh, okay?” He’d never come across an adult who wanted to help him get into less trouble in the future. Usually it was just a reprimand and a punishment.
“Wonderful,” Dumbledore responded warmly. “Let’s try and come up with three alternatives together. Can you think of anyone who could have helped you resolve the conflict with Mr. Black before it escalated?”
“It was only the two of us in the hallway, sir,” Severus frowned. Lily hadn’t been nearby to help him, or she would’ve stepped in as his dueling partner like she had in countless fights before.
The headmaster hummed. “That’s true that you were the only two students. But myself and your godmother were right nearby, weren’t we?”
The twelve-year-old scowled. “I’m not a tattle tale. And it’s not like you’ve believed me before!” he said accusingly.
Dumbledore bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I know, and I am sorry. But I promise that I will do better in the future, and I hope that I can earn your trust someday. Would you be willing to agree that getting Professor McGonagall could be a potential alternative for now, though?”
Severus nodded. As the Gryffindor Head of House, McGonagall was more nurturing to her lions than she was to students from other houses, but the professor always tried her best to be impartial when it came to student disputes.
“Only two more to go, then,” Dumbledore beamed. “Can you think of a second alternative? I often find that distance can work wonders in calming my own temper.”
Severus’ brow furrowed as he caught his guardian’s subtle hint. If he wanted to create distance then... “I could walk away?” he proposed unsurely.
His guardian smiled reassuringly. “An excellent idea. Ignoring the instigator by walking away may even cause them to reduce or completely stop their unwanted behaviour if they aren’t able to get the desired reaction from you. And if the aggressor stoops low enough to attack you from behind, then it is perfectly acceptable to defend yourself.”
Severus’ eyes widened slightly. “R-Really?” he asked, a bit surprised that the headmaster was condoning fighting back, even if it was only for self-defense.
Dumbledore nodded. “Drawing your wand or raising your fists should always be a last resort, but if you are attacked first, then it is only reasonable that you defend yourself. Only to the extent that is necessary, of course. Your objective should be to stop your attacker or hold them off until help arrives. It should not be to enact revenge, and crossing that line would put you at fault as well. I know from personal experience that it is often difficult to control that burning desire for revenge, especially once you have the upper hand, but I believe that having compassion and human decency is a strength rather than a weakness. When our opponents go low, we go high by refusing to let them compromise our morals. Does that make sense?”
“I-I think so.” And Severus could mostly understand that. As much as he would love to hex the living daylights out of the marauders if given the upper hand, doing so would only make him just as bad as them. Now, that’s not to say that he wouldn’t happily enjoy defeating them, but maybe it wasn’t necessary to be cruel in return.
“Excellent. As for a third potential alternative, have you ever tried deep breathing as a method for collecting yourself?” Dumbledore inquired.
The twelve-year-old shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Ah, I would highly recommend this method then. I find that it often works best when paired with counting, such as inhaling for a count of 4 seconds, and exhaling for a count of 6 seconds.” Dumbledore leaned forward conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I often use this method every time I have to deal with our beloved Minister of Magic,” he winked.
Severus muffled a giggle. Everyone knew that Minister Minchum was a dunderhead who could barely tie his own shoes.
“Sometimes if he rambles longer than usual, I resort to mentally reciting the principles of Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration,” his guardian admitted sheepishly. “Perhaps you could recite your favourite potions recipe instead?”
Severus nodded, a shy smile gracing his face. “Yes, sir. I can try.”
“I am glad to hear that, my boy. And look at that, we’ve just come up with three alternatives that we can add to your toolbox!” Dumbledore said happily. “That is quite an accomplishment. Well done, my boy.”
Severus squirmed awkwardly at the praise, an unfamiliar sensation of warmth filling his chest. “Thank you, sir.”
“Any time, my boy. Now, it is getting quite late, so you’d best return to your dormitory, or Madam Pomfrey will have my head for keeping you up past your bedtime,” Dumbledore told him with a rather nervous chuckle.
Severus bobbed his head knowingly. “She can be really scary when you disobey her orders,” he agreed.
Dumbledore smiled fondly. “Indeed. Would you like me to walk you back to your dormitory?”
The twelve-year-old shook his head. “I can go by myself.” It would only cause issues if any of his housemates saw him being friendly with the headmaster.
Dumbledore smiled kindly. “As you wish. Goodnight, Severus. Sleep well.”
“Goodnight, sir,” Severus returned, quietly closing the door behind him. He walked back to his dormitory in silence, the feeling of warmth that had filled him earlier still on his mind. It had almost been rather enjoyable spending time with his guardian.
Maybe, just maybe… this would be okay.
Chapter Text
Severus knew that accepting Sirius Black’s challenge to duel in the Forbidden Forest wouldn’t be his brightest idea. In fact, it would likely qualify him as one of the very dunderheads that he always complained about. The mere proposal was impulsive, idiotic, and ill-advised, end of story. Which, of course, was all disregarded as the twelve-year-old found himself wanting nothing more than to wipe the smug look off of his nemesis’ face.
“So, what do you say? Just you and me. The Forbidden Forest at midnight. No seconds,” the Gryffindor proposed with a daring smirk.
Severus narrowed his eyes. “You’re on,” he retorted, ignoring the simultaneous groans from Lily and Lupin. The two had been trying in vain to convince him and Black that this was a bad idea, but he’d been too caught up in glaring at his rival to really pay attention to them.
“Boys. Absolutely no common sense,” Lily huffed under her breath.
“You two are definitely going to end up in detention,” Lupin nodded in agreement.
“Aw c’mon Moony, lighten up,” Potter rolled his eyes. “Tonight’s the professors’ monthly poker night, remember? It’ll just be the prefects patrolling, and they’re easy enough to avoid.”
“Oh right,” Lupin sighed hopelessly, exchanging a forlorn look with Lily. “I forgot about the night when all of the professors secretly meet up to get wasted and gamble instead of keeping an eye on their students,” he muttered sarcastically.
“How could you forget, Moony? It’s the best night of the month,” Black exclaimed loudly before being quickly shushed by the rest of the table.
“Ahem. Is there a problem over there?” the DADA professor asked, the commotion having caught his attention.
“No, Professor,” the second years quickly chorused.
Severus scoffed disgustedly as the man nodded naively and returned to reading Witch Weekly Magazine. Dumbledore hadn’t had any applicants for the DADA professor that year, so the Ministry had sent their best dunderhead to fill the position. It was actually due to said dunderhead professor that he was currently stuck sitting at a table with the marauders in the first place. The idiotic wizard had declared that it would be a good idea to have assigned seating during the second-year study hall, and that it would foster “inter-house unity” if he stuck Slytherins together with Gryffindors. Mulciber, Avery, and Rosier had been lucky enough to have their parents arrange for private tutors during the period, so Severus was stuck alone with the lions.
The only positive aspect was that it allowed him to spend time with Lily in public without getting harassed by his housemates. Sitting next to each other made it easy to pass notes without anyone noticing, and they had spent the first half of the study hall celebrating the success of the prank. It had taken a lot of scheming, charms work, and potions experimenting since Lily had first proposed the idea a few weeks ago, but they’d finally managed to pull it off at breakfast that morning. As soon as the professors had each taken their first sip of coffee, the charm on the cup had interacted with the potion in the caffeine and had resulted in all four heads of houses turning into their house mascot for sixty seconds. The students had found it hilarious, and the professors had taken it well for the most part. McGonagall had eyed him and Lily rather suspiciously, but she couldn’t prove anything. Dumbledore, on the other hand, had merely met his eyes knowingly and winked.
Unfortunately, Severus had also found himself on the end of some rather hostile glares from his housemates that morning as they’d walked in and noticed that they were still in second place for the House Cup. Slytherin had spent an entire week trying to earn enough points to get the edge on Ravenclaw, but they still hadn’t regained the lead they’d had before Severus had been caught brawling with Black. His housemates had been furious at him to say the least, and the only reason he’d escaped with only a few unpleasant hexes was because Lucius had entered the common room and stopped them. The Malfoy heir was still granting his protection to Severus with the expectation that he would soon declare his loyalty to the Dark Lord, and while the dark-haired boy wasn’t planning on doing any such thing, he did need the blonde’s protection unless he wanted to end up in the hospital wing every day.
Not for the first time, he found himself wishing that he’d been sorted into a House where he was unconditionally welcome. But the reality was that true friendship was something only Lily had ever gifted him, and Severus knew better than to dream of things that would never come to be.
It was a quarter to midnight when Severus left the castle and made his way into the Forbidden Forest. The night was crisp, the chilly air persistent as it tried to permeate through his new winter cloak. The cloak had been a gift from Dumbledore who had noticed him shivering on his way to the greenhouse for herbology class a few days ago. When his guardian had brought the matter up, Severus had insisted that he was perfectly fine, but the next morning, an elegant cloak spelled with all sorts of complicated charms had arrived by owl for him.
“Please use it, my boy,” Dumbledore had requested. “I don’t wish for you to catch a cold.”
Severus had gratefully agreed, ignoring the part of him that protested at the obvious charity. It was a luxury model cloak from Twilfitt and Tattings, and for all his pride, the twelve-year-old couldn’t resist accepting a gift that would finally allow him to blend in with his wealthy housemates. He had made a point of being on his best behaviour to show his gratitude, and Dumbledore had seemed pleased with his lack of detentions when they’d met to review his assignments on Saturday.
With that in mind, Severus was well aware that he was tempting fate by sneaking into the Forbidden Forest at night, not to mention for a duel with Black. But it wasn’t like he could change his mind now without looking like a coward, and since the professors would all be occupied with their poker night, the best option left was to swiftly flatten the Gryffindor in a duel and then gloat about it as soon as he was safely back in bed.
“There you are, Snivellus,” Black taunted as he stepped into the clearing. “Thought you might’ve gotten scared and bailed.”
Severus’ lip curled at the jibe. “We’ll see who’s snivelling after this, mutt,” he returned loftily. The Slytherin had spent the entire afternoon practicing his best offensive spells, and while Black was talented at defense, Severus was the better dueler.
“Brave words for a slimy snake,” Black sneered, adopting a dueling stance and raising his wand.
Severus merely lifted a mocking eyebrow and assumed his own stance. “At the first chime of the clocktower?”
“You’re on, Snivellus.”
The duel started with a bang as Severus sent a blasting curse at the ground beneath Black’s feet, hoping to knock the boy over and disarm him. It was just barely evaded, much to his disappointment, and he was forced to dive out of the way as an incarcerous followed almost simultaneously by a leg-locking curse shot his way. How in Merlin’s name was Black casting so quickly?
Scrambling behind a tree for cover, the twelve-year-old spat out the disarming curse. It missed by just a few inches. “Damn it,” he swore in frustration.
“Ready to surrender yet?” Black shouted tauntingly.
A streak of white light struck the tree that Severus was using as a shield, and branches rained down on him, forcing him to run. “In your dreams,” he growled, shooting off a knee-reversing hex as he fought through the debris. His spell missed again, but in the second before the spell would have connected, he could have sworn he saw a hand appear out of nowhere and pull Black away. Had he imagined it?
His distraction cost him, and he fell to the ground a moment later as a tripping hex caught him. “Shite,” he gasped, clutching at his smarting knee. How was he losing to the other boy? Forcing himself to ignore the pain, he retaliated with a stunner, only to be hit simultaneously in both legs with two fierce stinging hexes that sent him crumpling back to the ground. Wait, two stinging hexes?
“Expelliarmus!”
Before he could get up, his wand was flying through the air into Black’s waiting hand.
“You lost, Snivellus,” Black gloated, leaning over him and waving the stolen wand.
Severus pushed himself to his feet and leveled his classmate with his most furious glare. “Maybe I lost, but at least I’m not a cheat who can only win when it’s two against one. So much for Gryffindor honor and bravery, Black and Potter .”
Black paled but then scoffed weakly. “You’re bonkers, Snape. There’s no one here but you and me.”
Severus laughed darkly. “I saw Potter’s hand yanking you out of the way of my spells. And unless you can miraculously shoot two hexes at once, then you’re nothing but a cheat. Gryffindor must be so ashamed to have such cowardly lions in their house.”
He wasn’t surprised when a rough shove came out of nowhere. Blindly, he yanked in the direction of assault, surprised when he pulled away a thin, shimmery cloak. An invisibility cloak, he realized in astonishment as he glanced between the cloak and the now visible James Potter.
“Give it back, Snape,” Potter demanded hotly. “It’s a family heirloom.”
Severus scowled, now understanding how the marauders constantly snuck around without getting caught. Invisibility cloaks were incredibly rare, but of course the Potters owned one, being the old, wealthy, pureblood family that they were. He would have happily stomped on the cloak before returning it, but he was well aware that he was currently defenseless. “I’ll give it back once Black returns my wand,” he retorted.
The two Gryffindors exchanged a meaningful look, and the trade was quickly made. Once the engraved black wood was back in his possession, Severus allowed himself to relax just slightly.
“Will you tell anyone about the cloak?” Potter ground out, clutching it protectively.
Severus smirked, glad to have the upper hand for once. “Let me guess. Mummy and Daddy don’t know that you snuck it into Hogwarts?”
Potter flushed and started to respond when a booming voice startled them.
“What’s all ter ruckus o’er there?”
All three boys swallowed hard as out of the trees emerged the Hogwarts groundskeeper. They had forgotten about Hagrid.
“I cannot even begin to express how disappointed I am in you boys,” Dumbledore lectured, sternly eyeing them over the rim of his glasses as they stood before his desk. “To risk your lives and enter the Forbidden Forest at night for a reason as foolish as a petty duel is unacceptable.”
“It was all Snape’s fault, Professor,” Black insisted. “He forced us to go.”
“Yeah, we didn’t want to go, but he threatened to curse us with Dark Magic if we didn’t show up, so we had no choice,” Potter corroborated earnestly.
“Is that so,” Dumbledore said neutrally, his expression impassive. He turned and looked at Severus expectantly. “Mr. Snape, would you like to confirm or contradict this story?”
Severus didn’t bother replying. Unlike the fight when it had been just him and Black, it was now two Gryffindors’ words against his own. Defending himself was pointless. They had been in this situation countless times before, and Dumbledore had always believed the marauders over him.
“Mr. Snape?” the headmaster prompted. The only response he received was silence.
“See, Professor? We’re telling the truth, and Snape doesn't want to admit it,” Black exclaimed triumphantly.
Severus’ expression remained stoic, his gaze trained on the wall as he forced himself not to react to the headmaster’s shrewd, searching look. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Black and Potter exchange barely hidden grins as his silence practically confirmed their innocence, but he still kept his mouth firmly shut. It wasn’t worth it.
“Very well,” Dumbledore sighed after a minute of waiting. “You three will serve detention separately on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday afternoon. Professor Flitwick will supervise Mr. Potter’s detentions, Professor Slughorn will oversee Mr. Black’s, and Professor McGonagall will handle Mr. Snape’s.”
“But Professor,” the two Gryffindors immediately started complaining. “That’s not fair! It was Snape’s fau—”
“I will be also writing to your respective parents,” Dumbledore continued, acting as if he hadn’t heard their protests, “and rest assured Mr. Potter, your invisibility cloak will not be returned to your possession within these walls until you come of age.”
Potter’s jaw dropped in horror. “But sir, you can’t do th—”
The headmaster raised his hand, cutting him off. “I do not wish to hear any more on the matter. Those are the punishments, and they will not be lessened. I suggest you boys return to your beds now.”
“Yes, sir,” came the grudging replies as the two lions trudged out the door.
Severus quickly made to follow them, not wanting to be left alone with his guardian, but a throat clearing from behind stopped him in his tracks.
“Not you, Mr. Snape. To me, please.” The door closed, leaving the two of them alone. “Look at me, Severus.”
The twelve-year-old ignored him, instead crossing his arms and lifting his chin in a practiced show of defiance, or rather what Dumbledore now suspected was the boy’s instinctive defense to insecurity. “The longer you ignore me, the longer we’ll be here,” he said quietly.
Severus huffed and jerked his eyes back to his guardian. “What?” he snapped belligerently, trying to hide the fear he felt lurking just below the surface. He knew something had been wrong when Dumbledore had punished them all equally, and now he was about to discover the catch.
“I would like an explanation, please,” the headmaster requested. “Messrs. Black and Potter shared their version of tonight’s events, but I would like to hear yours as well.”
“You already heard what happened. I lured your precious Gryffindors into the forbidden forest and used dark magic to make them go. End of story,” Severus sneered, wanting Dumbledore to quit whatever pretense this was and just tell him why he was really there.
“I sincerely doubt that, my boy. In fact, I suspect that much of that story was fabricated. As such, I would like to hear your perspective in order to ensure that I have not punished any party unjustly.”
Severus scoffed dismissively. “Like you bloody care.”
“Language, young man. I assure you, I most certainly do care.”
“My arse,” came the muttered retort.
“One point from Slytherin.”
Severus sputtered, his head shooting up. “That's not—You can't—”
Dumbledore merely raised an eyebrow, and Severus fell silent, opting for a sullen scowl. His guardian was right, of course. As headmaster, the man could take as many points as he wished. “Fine,” he grudgingly mumbled. “Black challenged me to a duel during the study hall, and I accepted.”
“As I’d presumed,” the headmaster sighed, looking resigned but unsurprised. “I can only hope that your weekend of detentions will make you boys think twice about such foolish actions in the future.”
Severus shuffled his feet. “Yes, sir. May I be dismissed, please?”
Dumbledore shook his head. “Not quite yet, I’m afraid.”
There was a slight edge to his guardian’s tone, and Severus instinctively took a step backwards, a pit of dread gathering in his stomach.
“If I recall correctly, this is not the first time we have needed to address your illicit ventures into the Forbidden Forest,” Dumbledore began in a steely voice. “Yet seeing as we are here once again, I can only conclude that the gravity of breaking this rule was not sufficiently impressed upon you.”
Severus swallowed hard past his suddenly dry throat, dimly registering that his palms had started to sweat. Reflexively, he wiped them on his robes. He had forgotten that this was his second offense for the same crime within the same term, and now his stupidity would cost him. If yer too dumb to learn yer lesson the first time, then I’m just gonna hafta beat it into ya until ya can’t forget it, boy! Those were often his father’s bellowed words followed promptly by a painful correction. His eyes snapped back to his guardian, waiting for the inevitable order to assume the position.
“There is a war brewing out there, Severus,” Dumbledore continued grimly, “and leaving the castle wards without a professor is incredibly dangerous these days. I will not allow you to continue foolishly risking your life, and if that means I must deliver more stringent consequences, then I will not hesitate to do so if it keeps you safe.”
Severus inhaled shakily and squared his shoulders, clasping his hands behind his back to hide their trembling. He might as well get it over with. It had only been due to Dumbledore’s gracious leniency that he’d been spared a well-deserved thrashing up until this point, and now it was time to return to normality.
“How do you want me, sir?” he asked, forcing his voice to stay steady. His eyes darted involuntarily to the cane that decorated the wall, wondering if that would be the implement used to punish him. Or perhaps his guardian kept a sturdy tawse or strap to use on the hides of worthless freaks such as himself. “For my punishment,” he clarified at his guardian’s questioning look.
Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully. “I believe grounding you for a few days should be adequate. As soon as your classes are over on Friday, you will gather what you need from your dormitory and then come straight to our quarters where you will spend the weekend and serve your detentions.”
“J-Just a grounding, sir?” Severus asked uneasily, wondering what he was missing. There was no way his only punishment was being grounded. That type of flimsy consequence was something that only happened on TV or to the kids who were well-behaved and good. Worthless kids like himself needed a proper punishment for the lesson to stick. Didn’t Dumbledore know that?
His eyes flickered to the wall again, only it must have been less subtle than he’d thought because suddenly his guardian was crouching down in front of him. Two large hands settled on his shoulders a second later, holding him in place.
“Look at me, please,” came the quiet order.
His body visibly trembling, Severus slowly raised his head to meet his guardian’s piercing gaze.
“I will never strike you, child,” Dumbledore promised solemnly, his expression grim. “Do you hear me?”
Severus shook his head in denial and tried to shift away, but his guardian stilled him with a gentle squeeze. “I-I know how to take a proper punishment, sir,” he whispered bravely, hoping to convince his guardian to stop whatever trick this was and just give him his real punishment. “My father trained me well.”
“No, my boy,” Dumbledore sighed with a pained smile. “The only thing he trained you to do was suffer and survive under his abuse. There was nothing proper or acceptable about the way he chose to punish you.”
Severus averted his eyes. “I wasn’t abused.”
“Weren’t you?” Dumbledore questioned softly.
The twelve-year-old bit his lip, his head ducked. “It’s a father’s prerogative to discipline his son as he sees fit, sir,” he stated quietly.
“To an extent, yes,” Dumbledore agreed. “But when the so-called discipline leaves a child with scars and broken bones, then it has crossed the line into abuse.”
Severus shrugged with forced nonchalance. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Do you truly believe that?”
His guardian’s expression was filled with genuine sorrow, and Severus found himself looking away. He wasn’t worth Dumbledore’s compassion and kindness. He was a worthless, good-for-nothing freak, and he would do well not to forget it.
“Severus?”
“It wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve,” he mumbled, plucking at a loose thread on his sleeve.
A warm hand closed around his, tugging it away from the fabric and holding it captive. “No child deserves to be treated the way you were, my boy.”
Dumbledore spoke with such conviction that it brought a lump to Severus' throat. He wanted nothing more than to believe his guardian, but he knew plain and simple that the old wizard was wrong. He shook his head again, dark hair whipping forcefully from side to side.
“Tell me, my boy,” Dumbledore said in a carefully measured voice. “Would you consider it abuse if Ms. Evans’ father treated her as Tobias did you?”
Severus’ head shot up, his eyes blazing. “Of course! If anyone hurts Lily, I’ll make them wish they’d never been born,” he declared fiercely.
“So why is the situation any different for you?”
“It just is,” Severus insisted.
“How exactly is it different, my boy?”
“I dunno, I just… I’m bad, and Lily’s good!” the twelve-year-old burst out. “I was always mouthing off to my father and disobeying and stuff.”
“So if Ms. Evans had behaved like yourself, you would agree that she should have been punished the same way you were?”
“No!” Severus exclaimed, horrified.
“But you just stated that you deserved your father’s punishments because of your bad behaviour. So why should the same bad behaviour from another child not warrant the same consequences?” Dumbledore questioned insistently.
“I—I… Because it’s WRONG!”
Silence fell as Severus’ shouted words echoed around him. Wide eyed, he stood there, stunned at what he’d just admitted out loud. Then, his expression crumpled in anguish. A pained whimper escaped him, and he quickly buried his face in his hands as the long overdue tears finally came.
“That’s right, son,” Dumbledore murmured compassionately, gently tugging him into his arms. “None of what happened at Spinner’s End was your fault. What your father did was wrong. You did not deserve that. No child ever deserves that, no matter what.”
Severus desperately latched onto his guardian’s robes, the fabric clenched tightly in his fists. Choked sobs filled the room as he melted into the warm, comforting embrace of his guardian for the very first time. “I-I tried to be good,” he pleaded brokenly between sobs. “But I was never good enough. But I promise, I tried as hard as I could!”
“I know, son,” Dumbledore soothed, his own eyes shining with moisture. “I know.” With one hand, he gently guided the crying child’s head to rest against his chest while continuing to rub calming circles on the small back with the other.
After some time, the boy’s tears started to give way to exhaustion, his eyelids drooping until he was lost to sleep. Rising to his feet, Albus tenderly carried his lightly snoring charge into their quarters, careful not to wake him. Once the child was in bed, he quickly exchanged his clothes for pajamas and then tucked the covers snugly around him.
Leaning over, he planted a gentle kiss on the boy’s forehead. “Goodnight, Severus,” he whispered. With a final glance, he turned off the lights with a wave of his hand and quietly closed the door. The hour was late, and it was time to retire to his own bedroom.
Chapter Text
Astronomy class had just ended, and Severus was drowsily making his way down the stairs along with the rest of the Slytherin and Ravenclaw second years. Professor Sinistra’s class ended at midnight on Thursdays due to the nature of the subject, and after two hours of identifying constellations, the twelve-year-old was exhausted. His housemates appeared to be in a similar state based on the abundance of yawns, but there was something unusual about the way they were acting that caught his attention. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Cautiously following his peers into the common room, Severus stopped short at the sight that met him. Every member of the house was assembled by rank, from the half-asleep first years to the bored-looking seventh years, and standing distinguished in the center of the room were Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Black. The twelve-year-old gulped. This was what was unofficially referred to as the Slytherin Court, and everyone knew what that meant. Someone had angered Slytherin’s leaders, and tonight, they would be punished.
As the portrait door closed behind the last second year, Malfoy waved his wand, conjuring two throne-like chairs for himself and Bellatrix. “Rookwood, secure the room,” he ordered the seventh-year student who nodded lazily and took out his wand. It was well known within Slytherin that Augustus Rookwood was being recruited by the Unspeakables, something that the Dark Lord was extremely pleased about. The seventh year was positively brilliant with magic of all kinds, and Severus suspected that Rookwood could have easily been a Ravenclaw if he weren’t so obsessed with pureblood supremacy.
Noticing his classmates slipping into their places, Severus hastened to follow, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He definitely didn’t want to still be standing there when the poor sod who had earned Lucius and Bellatrix’s ire was called forward. Hurrying to his usual spot, he yelped when he was abruptly stopped by a wand to his throat.
“Not you, blood traitor scum.” Bellatrix sneered, jabbing her wand harshly into his skin.
Severus froze, his pale face turning even paler as she jerked her head meaningfully at the Lestrange twins. Fear coursed through his body as the two burly upper years menacingly strode towards him and yanked his arms behind his back with bruising force. “No,” he whimpered, terror filling him as he realized that he was the one being singled out. Desperately, he threw a pleading look at his usual protector, only to be met with a cold and apathetic mask. Severus’ heart plummeted. For whatever reason, the Malfoy heir was not going to help him.
“I have called you all here this evening to discuss the betrayal of one of our own,” Lucius stated coldly. “Given that these accusations were brought to light by my second-in-command, I will yield the floor to her.”
Severus’ body quivered, his eyes shining with fear as Bellatrix pounced forward like a predator stalking its prey. There was a reason why she was one of the Dark Lord’s most promising recruits, and it was no secret that she loathed his very existence. Now that he had lost Lucius’ protection, she was free to do whatever she wanted to him.
However, despite his fear, he had enough pride to refuse to mindlessly submit to the sadistic witch. He would undoubtedly be cursed tonight, but he was determined to not accept his humiliation without a fight. Squaring his shoulders, he adopted his most defiant expression.
“Tonight, we will be reminding an upstart half-blood of his place,” Bellatrix announced gleefully. She stopped in front of him, a cruel smile on her lips. “Kneel, boy.”
Severus didn’t move a muscle except to send her a withering glare.
Bellatrix giggled and turned to face the rest of the house. “And this is exactly why he needs to be taught a lesson. Little Sevvie here seems to have forgotten that he is inferior to us purebloods.” Her expression hardened, and she forcefully grabbed his chin, squeezing until Severus yelped in pain, despite his best efforts to remain silent. “When a pureblood tells you to do something, you do it, boy,” she growled. “Now, kneel.”
A second later, he was physically forced to the ground by his captors, his knees hitting the hard, stone floor with a painful thud.
“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Bellatrix mocked. “Even the dumbest of dogs can learn with proper encouragement.”
Severus’ face flushed, his cheeks burning hotter at the amused sniggers coming from his housemates at his predicament. From his spot on the floor, he clenched his teeth tightly. He might be helpless now, but they’d be sorry they’d ever laughed at him once he brewed a cauldron full of indigestion potion!
“Now now, settle down,” Bellatrix called, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Poor Sevvie probably doesn’t even know why he’s in trouble. Isn’t that right?” she cooed.
Severus’ only response was a hateful glower. He supposed that the purebloods had decided to have a spot of fun, and as the only half-blood in Slytherin, he’d been chosen as the star for their night’s entertainment.
Bellatrix merely smirked at his look, turning on her heel and sitting on her conjured throne. Sitting down, she lovingly twirled her wand. Next to her, Severus could tell that Lucius was barely refraining from rolling his eyes at the display. Maybe the blonde prefect hadn’t completely abandoned him.
“Do hurry up, Bella,” Lucius drawled. “We don’t have all night, and it would be ill advised to draw Slughorn’s suspicion when he cannot enter the common room.”
Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed in displeasure, but it appeared that she agreed because her gaze snapped back to Severus. “You are here before the Slytherin Court tonight because you have been found guilty of continuing to consort with that mudblood, Lily Evans,” she spat disgustedly.
At the damning words, Severus’ blood turned to ice. He and Lily had been so careful each time they’d met to ensure that no one was following them! He frantically reviewed every meeting he’d had with Lily, trying to figure out if this was a bluff. It had to be. Bellatrix was just looking for an excuse to curse him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denied stoically.
A furnunculus curse streaked from the witch’s wand, and he doubled over with an agonized gasp, his face erupting in painful boils.
“Don’t lie to me, half-blood,” Bellatrix snarled, a manically glint in her eye. “My spies informed me that you and that mudblood have been meeting regularly in the Room of Requirement for weeks now. Do you deny it?”
Severus kept head bowed to the ground, unable to help the tears that welled in his eyes. He and Lily had taught themselves the most advanced invisibility and identifying spells that they could manage, but Bellatrix must’ve ordered the upper years to trail him. Even with their advanced abilities, they’d never stood a chance against the spellwork of NEWT students. That explained why Lucius wasn’t defending him. He’d lost the prefect’s protection by ignoring the thinly veiled order to stop his association with Lily, and now he’d pay for that disobedience.
“I asked you a question, Snape!” Bellatrix snapped, jolting him from his thoughts as she sent a sickly yellow spell at him.
Unable to dodge with his arms still restrained behind his back, the twelve-year-old cried out as sections of his hair were unceremoniously ripped from his head. It hurt like hell, and he couldn’t help but start crying.
“Aww, is the poor little blood traitor spawn crying for Daddy Dumbledore?” Bellatrix jeered, yanking his head back by his remaining hair so that his face was visible to everyone.
“H-He’s not my father,” Severus managed to choke out.
“Ignis flagellum!”
Severus screamed, thrashing as much as his captives allowed for as the sensation of a fiery whip attacked his entire body all at once. After what felt like minutes but was in reality only seconds, a deep, familiar voice spoke up.
“That’s enough, Bella.”
“But Lucius,” Bellatrix whined before quieting at the blonde’s look.
Panting hard with tears streaming down his cheeks, Severus dimly registered as Lucius stepped forward until he was standing right in front of his crumpled, defeated form.
“Those who associate with mudbloods are not welcome in Slytherin,” Lucius said coldly. “I warned you about this at the beginning of the term, did I not?”
Severus nodded pathetically, his face wet with snot and tears. “Yes, sir,” he whispered.
“And yet you ignored me,” the prefect tsked, eying him disdainfully. “I had thought that you would repay my patronage with loyalty, but it seems I was mistaken. Perhaps sleeping on the floor like a filthy rat for a week will teach you not to squander the generous opportunities you are gifted by your betters. Mulciber, Avery, retrieve Snape’s trunk and bring it down.”
Severus’ eyes widened in horrified shock. He was actually getting kicked out? But this was his home while at Hogwarts! Sure, he didn’t exactly like his housemates, but Slytherin was the only place he belonged—the one place where he was accepted, however grudgingly, as a fellow snake! Getting kicked out meant that he would no longer be considered one of them. He would be completely alone, belonging nowhere. And he would do almost anything to avoid that.
“Please,” he gasped desperately. “Please let me stay. I’ll brew whatever potions you want. I’ll tutor anyone in potions who needs it. Please don’t kick me out!”
Lucius ignored his pleas, lifting his wand to levitate Severus’ trunk out of the common room and into the dimly lit corridor. “If you’ve learned your lesson after a week, you will be allowed back into the dormitory provided your disgraceful behavior improves. The Noble House of Salazar Slytherin will not stand for mudblood lovers.”
“And one last thing,” Bellatrix interrupted darkly, stalking up to the twelve-year-old. “In case you’re stupid enough to try and tattle to Daddy Dumbledore, I’ll warn you now. Keep your mouth shut, or it’ll be your little mudblood friend who pays. The cruciatus curse slips so easily from the lips, doesn’t it?” she breathed into his ear.
Severus shook his head vigorously, his obsidian eyes wide with fear. He would never let Lily be tortured by this sadistic witch. “I won’t tell!”
“Good boy,” Bellatrix smirked mockingly. “Not like anyone would believe you, anyway. The word of a poor little half-breed with a blood traitor mother and a muggle father against the word of a pureblood daughter of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black? As if,” she snorted amusedly.
“If that’s all?” Lucius drawled impatiently. Upon receiving a smug nod, he turned to Severus’ captors. “Rodolphus, Rabastan, escort him out.
Severus struggled weakly as he was dragged to the door. “Please, Lucius,” he whispered one last time. The prefect merely turned around and gestured dismissively, and the next moment he was bodily thrown out of the common room, the door slamming shut behind him.
Shakily pushing himself to his knees, Severus fumbled in his robes for his wand. Grasping the smooth handle in relief, he pointed it at his boil-covered face, hardly even noticing that his hand was trembling. “Episkey,” he choked out. The spell didn’t heal all of the damage, but the boils shrank and the pain subsided to a dull ache that he could ignore easily enough. The fire whipping curse hadn’t left any visible marks, and the pain from the after-effects of that spell would subside within a few days. At least Lucius had been merciful enough to not leave him under Bellatrix’s wand for too long.
With a quiet sniffle, the twelve-year-old gave the common room entrance one last forlorn look before starting down the corridor. Bellatrix had already humiliated him enough, and he didn’t want to give her the further pleasure of witnessing how much it stung to be exiled from Slytherin. Dragging his trunk behind him, he walked to the other side of the dungeons where he knew a dusty, unused classroom was located. As he stepped inside, he accidentally stirred up a cloud of dust, sneezing violently a moment later. Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, he closed the door and sank to the floor, his face in his hands.
He was exhausted. Exhausted from constantly fighting to just survive. He wished with all his heart that he could be the kind of person that people actually liked. All of the Gryffindors except for Lily despised his slimy snake guts, and now his own housemates who were supposed to be his second family had rejected him. He was unwanted by everyone except for Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Lily. And wasn’t that pathetic. Twelve years old, and only one friend and a guardian and godmother who had only taken him in out of moral obligation. Because that’s all worthless, despicable boys like him deserved.
Frustrated, angry tears rolled down Severus’ cheeks. If only his father had drowned him at birth like the man had wanted to, then he wouldn’t have to suffer this aching loneliness. It would be so much easier if he didn’t exist anymore, and everyone else would be spared from his miserable presence as well. Maybe his mum should’ve taken him with her when she’d left this world. Could’ve saved everyone a lot of inconvenience.
Lost in his self-loathing, Severus didn’t even notice that he was viciously scratching his arms until a small drop of blood trailed down his wrist. “Damn it,” he whispered, staring at the crimson lines marking his forearm. He hadn’t meant to hurt himself again. He knew that this sort of thing wasn’t approved of, and he didn’t want to get sent to the loony bin. They would think that he wanted to kill himself, and while he knew that he didn’t deserve to exist, he didn’t want to die yet either.
Groaning, he banged his head against the wall. He would glamour the evidence in the morning until he could heal the wounds properly. It was already well past one, and he was too tired to deal with anything else now. His eyelids drooped, and he curled into a ball on the floor, trying to stay warm. He was asleep within seconds, just missing the quiet set of footsteps approaching his hiding place.
The doorknob creaked a moment later, the door swinging open to reveal a tall wizard with a long beard. “Oh, Severus,” Albus whispered sadly as his eyes fell on the sleeping child. Lifting the underweight boy into his arms, his expression darkened in fury as he noticed the partially healed boils and the missing patches of hair. The minute he found out who was responsible for this, they would be suspended, if not expelled, quicker than they could say quidditch.
Entering Severus’ bedroom in their quarters, Albus laid the twelve-year-old on top of the comforter before kneeling beside the fireplace and calling for Poppy. The mediwitch stepped through a few minutes later, a medical bag in her hand.
“What happened?” Poppy asked worriedly as she started applying a healing salve to the child’s face and scalp.
“He was attacked. By whom, I don’t know, but when I find out...” he trailed off grimly.
The mediwitch waved her wand over her patient, casting a diagnostic spell. “He’s been subjected to the flagelius curse,” she whispered, aghast, quickly pulling pain relief and nerve regeneration potions out of her bag.
A tear trickled down Albus’ face. Someone had tortured the poor child under his very nose, and he hadn’t been there to protect him. “How serious is it?” he managed to ask.
“Luckily, very minor. He should recover within a day,” Poppy replied, gently massaging the boy’s throat to get him to swallow the potions. “Unfortunately, this is a different matter.” Flicking her wand, she vanished Severus’ clothes, leaving him in just his boxers.
Albus inhaled sharply as he noticed the thin, puffy scratches that decorated the child’s forearm and the faded new lines on his upper thigh. “He’s started hurting himself again.”
Poppy nodded and started to treat the injuries. “Nothing too deep, thankfully. But enough that I believe it’d be best if Severus spoke with Jacob from St. Mungo’s. I’ll write to him in the morning and ask him if he’s available for a consultation this weekend.”
Albus nodded silently, watching as the mediwitch bandaged the boy’s arm and thigh. While magic could heal the worst of self-inflicted injuries, a combination of magic and muggle means typically worked best, perhaps due to the conflicting nature of healing magic and self-harm. Hopefully Severus would be willing to at least meet with the mind healer, and if not, perhaps a compromise involving additional supervised brewing time would be in order.
“He should be fine physically now,” Poppy said, “but I’ll stop by tomorrow to check on him.”
“Thank you, Poppy,” Albus said gratefully, bidding her goodnight. Opening his ward’s dresser, he picked out a soft pair of pajamas and carefully redressed the boy. With a wave of his hand, he conjured a comfortable recliner next to Severus’ bed and settled into it, hoping to catch at least a few hours of sleep. He had a feeling that it was going to be a long day come morning.
Severus awoke to the warm sensation of sunshine lazily sweeping through the windows, filling the room with light. Letting out a muffled groan, he rolled onto his stomach and shoved a pillow over his head, not yet ready to leave the blissful comfort of the bed.
“Severus,” a distant voice called.
Someone was tugging on his blankets, much to the twelve-year-old’s displeasure, and he wanted it to stop. “Sod off and let me be,” he mumbled grumpily. Stupid dormmates, trying to deprive him of his precious sleep.
There was a low, amused chuckle. “I’m afraid I already ‘sodded off’, as you so politely asked, earlier this morning. It’s time to get up now.”
Severus’ pillow was stolen a moment later, eliciting a very disgruntled whine. “Don’t wanna get up,” he pouted stubbornly, keeping his eyes firmly shut.
“Come now, you don’t want to be late for classes, and we still need to eat breakfast and discuss a few matters before you leave, my boy.”
Severus’ eyes snapped open. The only person who called him that was—obsidian eyes locked onto twinkling blue—Dumbledore.
“Ah, there we go. I was worried I might have to resort to more drastic measures soon,” Dumbledore winked playfully.
Severus bolted upright, his cheeks flushing hotly as he realized exactly who he’d told to sod off. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Erm, good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, my boy,” Dumbledore returned cheerfully. “Now that you’re fully awake, I’ll just leave you to get dressed. Breakfast will be served in the dining room in five minutes.”
As the door closed after his guardian, Severus swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded over to the dresser. This was the second time that he’d slept in his guardian’s quarters, the first being his pathetic, embarrassing breakdown in the man’s arms earlier that week, but despite the shame he felt over that disgraceful display, he couldn’t deny that he rather liked having his own personalized bedroom. Which was probably a good thing considering today was Friday and he’d be grounded to said room for the weekend after classes. He’d have to remember to sneak some food at lunch to help lessen the hunger pangs during his grounding now that his stomach was used to regular meals.
Realizing he only had a minute left before breakfast was served, Severus quickly yanked off his clothes, not wanting to be late and denied the meal—only to freeze in horror at the sight of white bandages covering his forearm and thigh. The events of the previous night flashed through his mind as he realized what must have happened. The Slytherin Court, Bellatrix punishing him, getting thrown out, and then… His stomach flip flopped and he barely refrained from vomiting on the brand-new carpet. He had stupidly neglected to glamour the evidence of his cuts and scratches. And now the adults knew.
“Severus? Are you coming?” Dumbledore asked, poking his head into the bedroom. His eyes softened at the petrified child in front of him.
“I—I,” Severus stammered, unable to form words as his guardian came closer.
“It’s okay, my boy. We can talk about it after breakfast, hmm? Let’s get you dressed,” Dumbledore said kindly.
Severus stood numbly as his guardian gently tugged a shirt over his head, only snapping back to himself when the man started to maneuver him into trousers. “I can do it!” he choked out defensively, hoping he didn’t sound like he was about to cry.
Dumbledore calmly took a step back, allowing him to hastily pull on the last of his clothes. “Ready?”
Severus nodded, frustrated tears prickling his eyes as he reluctantly trailed after his guardian. Dumbledore was probably disgusted with him for resorting to such pathetic behaviour. And just when he’d finally started to enjoy spending time with the man, too. But of course, he’d gone and messed everything up. Because that’s what he did. He ruined everything.
A plate of fried eggs, bacon, and fruit was placed in front of him, and Severus whispered a barely audible thank you, his eyes determinedly averted from Dumbledore’s searching look. After a moment, he heard a quiet sigh.
“You’re not in any trouble, Severus, so you needn’t be worried. Now eat up, and don’t forget to take your potions.”
Severus grimaced but obediently forced down the two potions, quickly washing the taste away with a glass of pumpkin juice. He could hardly believe that he wasn’t in trouble for hurting himself, so maybe Dumbledore was pitying him. He loathed pity almost as much as he hated punishment, but at least pity didn’t leave visible marks.
A throat cleared, and Severus glanced up to see Dumbledore gesturing pointedly to his untouched food. Wordlessly, the twelve-year-old picked up his fork and started on his eggs, receiving an approving nod in return. He was rather hungry, and even though he didn’t like eggs very much, he knew better than to be picky.
Breakfast was a quiet affair aside from the occasional clank of silverware and mugs of tea. The headmaster clearly sensed that his ward wasn’t in the mood for talking, and Severus was grateful for the lack of conversation. Unfortunately, his reprieve only lasted for so long. Sooner than the twelve-year-old would have liked, breakfast was over and the dishes were being cleared away by the house elves. Intent on escaping to class before the inevitable interrogation, Severus jumped to his feet, only to be stopped by a raised hand.
“Why don’t we move this to the family room?” Dumbledore suggested in a tone that brooked no argument.
Severus scowled but grudgingly obeyed. Once in the family room, he flung himself into the nearest armchair. “You’re going to make me late for potions,” he sulked. He didn’t want to talk to his guardian about anything. All he wanted was to go to classes and forget that last night had ever happened.
“There is still an hour left before the first period starts,” Dumbledore pointed out. “And to be quite honest, considering the condition in which I found you, I’m hesitant to even allow you to attend class until the culprit or culprits are caught.”
Severus’ eyes widened in disbelief. “But Slughorn’s having Potions Master Damocles Belby guest lecture today! I can’t miss it,” he cried. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity!
His guardian leaned forward and eyed him intently. “Then it would be in both of our best interests if we got to the bottom of this sooner rather than later. Why don't we start with why you were sleeping in an abandoned classroom rather than your dormitory?”
“Why don’t we not,” Severus muttered snidely under his breath. He didn’t want to talk about getting kicked out of Slytherin, and he wasn't allowed to anyway. Why couldn’t Dumbledore just give it up and let him go to potions class already? He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.
“That was not a request, my boy.”
“It sure sounded like one,” he grumbled rebelliously.
“Enough, Severus,” Dumbledore sighed. “It is clear that someone hurt you last night, and I need to know who is responsible.”
Severus bit his lip, Bellatrix’s words echoing in his memory. Keep your mouth shut, or it’ll be your little mudblood friend who pays. He couldn’t let Lily get hurt. Strengthening his resolve, he stubbornly crossed his arms. “It’s none of your business, sir.” His guardian speared him with a sharp look, causing him to swallow hard past his suddenly dry throat.
“It certainly is my business as both your guardian and headmaster,” Dumbledore countered, a hard edge in his voice. “And I will find out what happened.”
Severus shook his head vigorously. “It’s not a big deal!”
“I disagree. As does Madam Pomfrey.”
“I don’t care.”
Dumbledore’s jaw tightened. “I’m not going to let this go, so your stubbornness is only delaying this process,” he said in a frustrated tone. “Why won’t you tell me who hurt you?”
“Why won’t you bugger off?” the twelve-year-old retorted darkly.
Dumbledore shot him a stern look before rising to his feet and starting to pace in front of the fireplace. “Very well. If you refuse to cooperate, then I will make my own deductions. Given that you decided to take refuge in an abandoned classroom, I think it is reasonable to assume that you are having trouble with your fellow Slytherins. Am I correct?”
Severus’ eye twitched, but he kept his gaze firmly trained on his lap. Dumbledore could try and interrogate him all he wanted, but he wasn’t going to say a word. Lily’s safety was more important than anything else. And if his guardian punished him for it, then so be it.
“Look at me, Severus,” Dumbledore ordered.
Severus refused, not wanting to risk his guardian possibly glimpsing his thoughts. He had read about occlumency and legilimency in his mum’s old school books, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the headmaster was well versed in both.
“Very well. It seems that I have no choice but to launch an official investigation,” Dumbledore asserted solemnly. “The heads of houses will be informed, and all students will be interviewed.”
Severus’ head jerked up in alarm. Slughorn would likely ask his prefects to interview the younger students of Slytherin in his stead, and the second he did, Bellatrix would know. And then she would go after Lily and torture her. He couldn’t let that happen.
As his guardian threw in a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, Severus did the only thing he could think of to stop him in time. Pulling out his wand, he pointed it desperately at Dumbledore’s back.
“Obliviate.”
Chapter Text
Severus’ spell had barely left his lips when Dumbledore whirled around, his expression alit with fury. In the blink of an eye, the twelve-year-old’s wand was sent flying through the air where it landed with an ominous smack in his guardian’s waiting hand.
“What in Merlin’s name were you thinking?” Dumbledore roared. “You could have caused irreparable brain damage if my mind was unprotected and I hadn’t reacted in time!”
Petrified, Severus could only stare numbly at the enraged man towering above him. His breath felt like it had been punched out of his stomach as his brain finally caught up to his actions. He had just tried to wipe the memory of the most powerful wizard alive.
“Answer me!” Dumbledore thundered, angrily rounding on him.
Severus cringed away, instinctively raising his arms to shield his face as a raised fist hurtled towards him. “I’m sorry!” he cried, forcing air into his lungs. “Please, I didn’t mean—I don’t—I won’t,” he stammered frantically.
“Severus,” Dumbledore said, eyeing him carefully, “I wasn’t going to hit you.”
The man took a slow step forward, and Severus panicked. Maybe he’d imagined the incoming blow, but he hadn’t imagined that step. Whirling around, he turned to flee, only to trip over an untied shoelace and end up sprawled on the floor. With a whimper, he quickly curled into a tight ball, protecting his vital organs as best he could. His father had liked to kick him around a bit every time he’d collapsed after a beating, so his guardian might as well. “Please, I’m sorry,” he sobbed when a hand landed on his back. The next second, he was being lifted into the air, completely helpless. Severus squeezed his eyes shut, waiting in terror for the inevitable pain to come.
“Calm, child. I’m not going to hurt you,” Dumbledore murmured.
A moment later, Severus felt himself being gently but firmly maneuvered out of his protective ball. His knees were tugged away from his chest, and his arms guided to his sides. The twelve-year-old struggled weakly, but Dumbledore’s steady hands prevented him from curling up again.
“Easy now. Take a deep breath for me, okay? That’s a good boy.”
Severus inhaled shakily, trying to calm his thundering heart. His guardian wasn’t going to hit him. He was safe at Hogwarts, far away from his father. Timidly, he peeked through his eyelashes just as he was being deposited back into his armchair. He sank into the soft cushions without protest, watching defeatedly as Dumbledore took a seat opposite from him.
“Severus,” Dumbledore said, his voice quiet but still laced with a hint of controlled anger. “Why did you try to obliviate me?”
The twelve-year-old opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he even say? His actions had been reprehensible, but he still couldn’t tell Dumbledore the truth without risking Lily’s safety. Blinking rapidly, he buried his face in his hands, not wanting his guardian to see the tears that were starting to spill down his cheeks.
He heard Dumbledore sigh, then two fingers were placed under his ducked chin. Severus tried to jerk away, but the fingers were quickly replaced with a firm grip that forced his head upwards until he was meeting the headmaster’s serious blue eyes.
“Talk to me,” Dumbledore ordered softly, still holding his chin captive. “What is going on?”
“You can’t launch an investigation. Please,” he implored.
Dumbledore sighed, then carefully used the pad of his thumb to brush away the tears that had trickled down Severus’ cheeks. “Then tell me the truth, child.”
The twelve-year-old shook his head. “I can’t.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
Severus momentarily squeezed his eyes shut. “Please, stop. I can’t risk it,” he whispered thickly. He heard a sharp intake of breath and then Dumbledore drew back abruptly.
“Someone is threatening you.”
It was a statement rather than a question, and Severus could practically feel the headmaster’s burning gaze searching him for answers.
“Who is it, Severus?” Dumbledore demanded in a low voice. “I need to know.”
“Please, can’t you just let it go? I’m fine,” Severus pleaded.
“No, you are not. Someone is threatening you to the extent that you tried to wipe my memories to prevent me from finding out. I will not let this go, son. You need to tell me who it is,” Dumbledore told him gravely.
“No! If you get involved, then they’ll know that I told!” the twelve-year-old cried in distress.
Dumbledore reached out and clasped both of Severus’ hands in his own. “I can protect you from them, my boy. I will make sure that whoever hurt you and threatened you will never be able to do so again. But I need to know who it is in order to do that.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Severus refused in a quiet voice. He couldn’t risk it. “But I can’t tell you.”
The headmaster took a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself, then nodded curtly. “Very well. If you won’t tell me now, then you will sit here, safe in our quarters, until you are ready.”
Severus’ eyes widened in dismay. “But what about potions class with Damocles Belby?” he protested. “I can’t miss it!”
“Then I suggest you tell me sooner rather than later if you wish to attend,” Dumbledore said unwaveringly, summoning his paperwork and transfiguring the coffee table into a desk. “Because you will certainly not be leaving my sight until the person or persons responsible are apprehended.”
“But—”
“No buts, young man,” Dumbledore cut him off. “I’ve told you before that I will not tolerate you putting your life in danger, therefore you will not be allowed to leave the safety of our quarters while your attacker is still unknown.”
Severus clenched his fists, inwardly fuming. It wasn’t fair! He was perfectly capable of dealing with Bellatrix himself, and if he kept his mouth shut, Lily would be safe as well. But now he was going to miss Britain’s most impressive potions master give a lecture because Dumbledore had decided to stick his stupid, unwanted nose into Severus’ business again!
“Sit down,” the headmaster commanded, not even glancing up from his paperwork as the twelve-year-old jumped to his feet. “The door is locked, and you will not be leaving until I believe you are safe.”
Severus glared furiously at the top of his guardian’s head, barely resisting the urge to stomp his foot. He was about to miss the most important class he’d ever attended in his entire life, and Dumbledore was just calmly sitting down writing stupid letters to the stupid ministry. Well, if the headmaster wanted to meddle in his affairs, then he’d do it right back. Spotting the man’s open inkwell, he violently knocked it over, spilling ink all over the papers that were scattered across the desk. So there! He crossed his arms defiantly, refusing to back down even as the headmaster stood up.
“If you’d wanted to stand instead of sit, all you needed to do was say so,” Dumbledore said deceptively calmly.
Severus eyed him warily, then yelped in protest as he was taken by the ear and marched forward. Not a few seconds later, he found himself with his nose planted in the corner of the room. Groaning in realization, he let his head drop forward against the wall. At twelve years old, he felt he was rather too old for time outs, but unfortunately, it seemed to be one of his godmother and guardian’s favorite punishments. Although admittedly, they only put him in the corner whenever he did something that was slightly, erm, immature. Like throwing his plate. Or breaking possessions. Or… knocking over an inkwell out of spite.
“Head straight, young man,” Dumbledore said, correcting his posture. “You will stand there for however long it takes me to rewrite all of the letters you just ruined with that little tantrum of yours.”
“Yes, sir,” Severus mumbled. With a sigh, he resigned himself to his fate staring at a blank, boring wall. He should really make an effort to avoid ending up in the corner as frequently as he did. Careful to keep his head in the same position, he glanced as far as he could out of the corner of his eye, hoping to find something more interesting than a stone wall. Peering to the right, he could just make out a mangled, gold ring set with a cracked, black stone resting on the nearby bookshelf. The stone had what appeared to be a familiar symbol engraved in it from a childhood story he’d found in his mum’s old trunk when he’d been little. He didn’t recall the details of the story, but it had something to do with Death and three brothers.
This was the second strangely mangled relic that he’d noticed in Dumbledore’s possession, the first being the melted diadem with the blue sapphire, he realized. He vaguely wondered why his guardian bothered to keep the artifacts if they were ruined, but he dismissed it as unimportant. They probably had some sentimental meaning or something like that.
Shifting his gaze back to the wall, Severus closed his eyes, listening to the scratching of the quill behind him. He guiltily hoped that he hadn’t caused too much extra work for his guardian. Yes, he’d been upset and devastated to miss Belby’s talk, but Dumbledore was only trying to keep him safe—something that neither his mother nor father had cared about. He should have been grateful for the man’s concern, but instead he’d lost his temper and acted petulantly instead.
“Severus,” Dumbledore called, beckoning him over. “Please take a seat. I want to talk to you about something.”
Once settled comfortably across from his guardian, Severus sheepishly met the man’s eyes. “I’m sorry for knocking over the inkwell. It was childish and rude of me.”
“Thank you for your apology, my boy. You are forgiven.” Dumbledore hesitated and then stood up and came around the desk, taking a seat next to Severus on the couch.
“Sir?” Severus questioned, looking at his guardian with puzzlement.
“I want to apologize if I pushed you too hard earlier. I was worried about your safety, and I reacted without considering your side of things,” Dumbledore admitted.
Severus stared at him with wide eyes. “You were worried about me ?” The only people who had ever worried about him were Lily and McGonagall, and even he didn’t understand why they bothered with him. “But why?”
Dumbledore smiled sadly. “Because even though you have only been my ward for a short few months, I already care greatly for you. I thought that forcing you to stay here until you told me who hurt you would keep you safe while also pressuring you to confide in me, but I had forgotten that you do not fully trust me yet, and for good reasons. But I promise you, Severus, I will do my best to be an adult who you can rely on to care for you no matter what, and I hope that someday I can earn your trust.”
Severus ducked his head, blinking rapidly. His guardian had actually admitted to caring about him! It wasn’t love, and he wasn’t delusional enough to think that he’d ever have that, but caring and worrying about his safety was certainly more than his mum and father had ever done. He bit his lip, wanting nothing more than to be able to trust him but too scared to truly do so. Dumbledore and McGonagall were better than every other adult who’d had authority over him, but he was still terrified of letting them get too close and then being abandoned again. “I’m sorry,” he said wetly. “I want to, I just… can’t. I’m broken and you should just give up on me and—”
“You are not broken, Severus Tobias Snape, do you hear me?” Dumbledore interrupted insistently, grasping his shoulders. “You have been through more than any child should ever have to deal with, and it is perfectly understandable that you aren’t able to trust adults, especially adults such as myself who have let you down numerous times. And I will never give up on you because you are mine now, understand? You are my child now, and I will always protect you to the best of my ability.”
Severus couldn’t hold back the embarrassing choked sobs that erupted from him at his guardian’s speech. He had never before experienced an adult talking to him like he’d dreamed a loving parent might if he’d been a good kid, and the care in Dumbledore’s voice released a dam of tightly repressed emotions hidden deep within him.
“It’s okay, my boy. Let it all out,” Dumbledore soothed, drawing him against his warm, comforting chest.
Severus melted into the embrace, giving in to his tears until there was nothing left but the occasional sniffle. Embarrassed by the wet stain and snot he’d left on his guardian’s robes, he tried to pull away, but the steady hand on his back kept him from getting very far.
“Feeling better now?” Dumbledore asked kindly.
Severus nodded and took a couple of deep breaths. He wasn’t anywhere near ready to trust his guardian completely, but if he could trust him enough to have a breakdown in his arms and not fear any repercussions from it, then he could trust him enough to make sure that Lily was safe.
“It was Bellatrix Black,” he admitted in a mumble, feeling Dumbledore’s arms tense around him. “She found out I was still meeting with Lily and then made an example out of me for being friends with a muggleborn. Lucius kicked me out of Slytherin for a week and Bellatrix threatened to crucio Lily if I told anyone. That’s why I didn’t want you to interfere.” He heard the headmaster take a deep breath, and then he was maneuvered so that he was looking right into the man’s eyes.
“Thank you for telling me, Severus. Rest assured, I will make sure Ms. Evans is in a safe place when Ms. Black is dealt with,” Dumbledore promised in a calm yet steely voice.
There was a spark of fury in his guardian’s eyes, and Severus almost felt bad for what would happen to Bellatrix. “Are you going to expel her?” he asked quietly. Expulsion would mean that her wand would be snapped, and while the Blacks would undoubtedly buy her a new wand and hire private tutors, it would still be on her record forever.
“Expulsion will be the least of Ms. Black’s worries,” Dumbledore said severely. “This will be handled by the aurors.”
“The aurors?” Severus gaped.
Dumbledore nodded grimly. “She used an illegal torture curse on a minor. The ignis flagellum spell is only one notch below the cruciatus curse in the damage it can leave. She could have caused permanent nerve damage if she’d held it on you for long enough.”
Severus lowered his eyes. “Oh,” he said in a small voice. He’d known it had been a torture curse, but he hadn’t realized he could have suffered permanent damage. He was suddenly very grateful that Lucius had stopped Bellatrix when he did. “She won’t admit to it, though, and none of the other Slytherins will say anything. And no one will believe a half-blood like me,” he pointed out.
His guardian sighed wearily. “You are correct that blood status discrimination is unfortunately still rampant in our society. But in this case, since you are my legal ward, it will be myself versus a daughter of the House of Black. My reputation is prestigious enough that the Wizengamot will schedule a trial, and since Ms. Black is of age, I will press for veritaserum if she denies the charges. It is truly one of the most difficult things as a professor to see my former and current pupils before the Wizengamot, but it will be done.”
Severus fidgeted guiltily at seeing his guardian’s sorrowful look. “You don’t have to tell the aurors if you don’t want to. I’ll be okay.”
Dumbledore’s head whipped around instantly. “I will absolutely be reporting this to the aurors, and do not think for even one second that I would allow an adult witch or wizard to get away with casting a literal torture spell on you! While I will never advocate for sending a young person to Azkaban, Ms. Black is old enough to understand the grave consequences of her actions, and I will support a punishment that fits the crime. Your safety is my priority, do you understand?”
“Erm, yes, sir,” Severus replied, rather taken aback by his guardian’s vehement response.
“And while we’re on the topic of your safety,” Dumbledore continued, “I will be stripping Mr. Malfoy of his prefect position for his role in this and giving the badge to Ms. Farley. I will also be having a serious talk with your head of house about his negligence, and I will ensure that the remaining members of Slytherin understand that any further bullying of you will not be tolerated.”
“Thank you,” Severus said shyly, a feeling of warmth blooming in his chest at his guardian’s defense of him. He knew that it wouldn’t stop his housemates from ostracizing him, but at least they probably wouldn’t attack him in his sleep. It would be lonely once his fellow Slytherins realized that he would never follow the Dark Lord, but at least he wouldn’t have to hide his friendship with Lily anymore.
“There is no need to thank me, my boy,” Dumbledore replied heavily. “I am just doing what myself and Professor Slughorn should have been doing all along.” He tilted his head, catching Severus’ eye. “It will likely take me the rest of the school day to sort everything out. I’ll call the aurors shortly, and once Ms. Black is removed from the grounds, you are free to go to class. I’ll also speak with Professor Sprout about excusing you from your study hall during fourth period so that you can join the third years’ potions class with Master Belby.”
Severus’ expression lit up, a hopeful look on his face. “Really, sir?”
“If you stay here while the aurors do their job, then yes,” Dumbledore said.
“Of course I will!” Severus promised eagerly. Inwardly, he felt like jumping up and down. He would still get to hear Damocles Belby speak!
“Good lad,” Dumbledore acknowledged approvingly. “Don’t forget that you’re still grounded starting today, though. I expect you back in our quarters with anything you may need until the end of next weekend by 3pm sharp.”
Severus started to nod, then stopped. “The end of next weekend, sir?” he asked apprehensively. He’d thought that he was only grounded until the end of the coming Sunday.
“Yes, I am extending your grounding by a week for attempting to obliviate me,” Dumbledore confirmed. “I fully intend to impress upon you what could have happened had your spell succeeded. In addition to your grounding and detentions for your stint in the Forbidden Forest, you will also be given reading material on the intricacies and consequences of memory charms. I will assign daily essays on the content to ensure that you are absorbing the material appropriately.”
Severus ducked his head shamefully. “Yes, sir. I really am sorry that I tried to use that spell on you.”
“I believe you,” Dumbledore replied, “but it is my job as your guardian to make sure that the lesson makes an impression so that you do not make the same mistake again. Now, please stay here while I visit the Ministry and take care of things.”
Severus nodded. He was definitely not looking forward to an extra week of being grounded and what sounded like daily detentions, but he had to admit that it wasn’t an excessively cruel punishment. He was a bit scared about being grounded for nine days because the last time he’d been “grounded,” his father had locked him in the cellar for a week with only a bucket of water. But Dumbledore would never do that, and while Severus fully expected to be denied the majority of his meals, he expected that his guardian would be kind enough to feed him at least once every few days. But just in case, he would make sure to sneak some less easily perishable foods from the lunch table in case he messed up badly again and the headmaster changed his mind. After all, it was always a good idea to be prepared.
Chapter Text
Everything had happened more or less as expected. The aurors had attempted to handle Bellatrix’s arrest discreetly, but rumor had it that she’d fought back with a few rather nasty curses before they’d managed to apprehend her. She was currently being held in a Ministry holding cell with her trial scheduled for the following day. It was unprecedented for a Wizengamot trial to be held with so little notice, but The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was beyond furious at the arrest of one of their daughters, and they weren’t afraid to wield their considerable influence to show it.
Fortunately, Severus wouldn’t be required to attend the trial since he was underage. He had provided his memory of the incident at the aurors’ request, but they thought it unlikely that it would be needed as testimony. Apparently, Madam Pomfrey had submitted a medical scan showing that he’d been cursed with the flagelius spell, and a warrant had been granted to use the prior incantatem spell on Bellatrix’s wand. From what he could understand of the adults’ whispered conversations, that evidence combined with the likely confession of guilt would secure the verdict in their favor.
The majority of the professors had seemed relieved to hear that, although Slughorn had looked quite pale when Severus had appeared in his classroom later that day. The twelve-year-old knew that Dumbledore had planned to give the potions professor quite a tongue lashing for neglecting to monitor the activities of his house members, and he suspected that the Slytherin head was also on the receiving end of a few veiled threats from the parents of prominent pureblood students. It certainly wasn’t an enviable position to be in, and Severus would have found himself pitying Slughorn if the man hadn’t spent the past year ignoring his housemates’ treatment of him. He could only hope that the threat of suspension would be enough to prevent the more bloodthirsty Slytherins from coming after him now that they knew his true allegiance.
At least Damocles Belby’s guest lecture had lived up to its expectations. Severus had found Belby’s presentation absolutely fascinating, and he couldn’t wait to try experimenting with some of the techniques the potions master had described. Who knew that flobberworm mucus could be harvested in so many ways? It was hardly a wonder that such a brilliant mind had managed to invent the Wolfsbane potion. Now that was a potion Severus would love to try and improve. It would be an intriguing challenge, not to mention the positive effects it could have on the werewolf community if successful.
Unfortunately, his experimentation would have to wait. The twelve-year-old’s grounding had only started three hours ago, and Severus already knew that it was going to be a long nine days if the reading he'd been assigned was anything to go by. Dumbledore had given him an enormous book on memory charms when he’d returned to their quarters after classes, and he was still working on the essay he was supposed to write summarizing the first three chapters.
“Severus, it’s dinner time!” Dumbledore called from the kitchen. “Come set the table.”
Severus looked up, his brow furrowed. Why was his guardian calling him to dinner? Surely, he wouldn’t be allowed more food when he’d already had two meals that day. That was why he’d smuggled as many bread rolls and apples as he could from the lunch table. The plan was to ration out his hidden stash until he was permitted to eat again.
“Now, please!” his guardian requested. “I don’t want the food to get cold.”
Well, he was more than happy to have a break from his essay. With a small shrug, Severus rose from his seat and crossed into the dining room. Over to his right, Dumbledore was in the kitchen taking a large dish out of the oven, evidently having decided to cook himself instead of leaving it to the house elves. The food smelled divine, and Severus had to force away a flicker of disappointment that he wouldn’t be allowed to have any. He was being punished, for Merlin’s sake! Disappointing burdens like himself didn’t deserve luxurious comforts like home cooked meals.
Looking at the table, the twelve-year-old hesitated as he saw that two placemats were laid out. “Are we having company, sir?” he asked, wondering why there was an extra placemat.
“No, just set the table for two,” Dumbledore replied, taking a pot of potatoes off of the stovetop.
Puzzled, Severus obeyed, neatly placing a napkin and silverware on each placemat. His task finished, he stood awkwardly, his hands clasped behind his back as Dumbledore came out with two steaming plates of food.
“And here we are,” Dumbledore announced, setting down a plate at each spot. He pulled out a chair and sat, smiling cheerfully. “Go on, take a seat, my boy.”
Hesitantly, Severus obeyed, eyeing the mouthwatering food before him with no small amount of longing. His guardian had made one of his favorites meals—roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, glazed carrots, and Yorkshire pudding. This was obviously part of his punishment. To see what he could have enjoyed but was now forbidden from having because of his horrible behavior. His stomach growled loudly, and he flushed, ducking his head with a murmured apology.
“Is something wrong?” Dumbledore asked, giving him an odd look.
Severus shook his head, his hands folded submissively in his lap. “No, sir.” He wasn’t stupid enough to whinge about it and make his punishment even worse.
“Then why aren’t you eating?”
“I… I don’t understand, sir.”
“Is this not one of your favorites? The house elves seemed to think that it was,” his guardian trailed off, suddenly looking uncertain.
“I’m grounded, sir,” Severus explained slowly as if speaking to a small child. The man couldn’t have possibly already forgotten that.
“Well, yes, although I don’t believe that has anything to do with your favorite meal,” Dumbledore replied, seeming a bit confused. “Anyway, I apologize if I was mistaken about your meal preferences, but this is what’s for dinner tonight. I don’t approve of wasting food, so please eat it anyway.”
Severus didn’t make any move to touch his plate. Maybe this was a test? His father had sometimes liked to trick him into breaking rules so that he’d have an excuse to punish him extra hard for disobedience. Not that the man needed an excuse to put his worthless son in his place.
“Did you hear what I just said, my boy?” Dumbledore repeated.
Severus nodded, his eyes averted to his lap. He didn’t know what his guardian wanted from him, and that made this test even more scary.
“Then why…?” A puzzled expression crossed the headmaster’s face before rapidly morphing into one of realization. “Ah, I see,” he murmured to himself. He cleared his throat and smiled forcedly. “Eat your food before it gets cold, my boy. And make sure to drink all of your milk, or Madam Pomfrey will have my head.”
Recognizing that it was not a suggestion, Severus hesitantly picked up his fork, a fearful glance out of the corner of his eye showing that his guardian was pointedly watching him. Spearing a carrot, he brought it closer to his mouth, hardly noticing that his hand was slightly trembling. The bite of food was in front of him all too soon, leaving him with only two choices. He could either obey his guardian’s order and risk punishment for daring to eat while grounded, or he could refuse to eat and face the consequences for willful disobedience. Swallowing with trepidation, he chose the former and carefully placed the carrot in his mouth, his eyes glued on his guardian as he waited for the man’s reaction.
Nothing happened. Dumbledore merely nodded in satisfaction and then returned to his own dinner. Letting out an inaudible sigh of relief, Severus chewed and swallowed the carrot before gratefully starting to eat the rest of his dinner. By some stroke of luck, it seemed that he had chosen correctly and had managed to avoid immediate punishment.
The atmosphere was kept fairly light for the next half hour, with Dumbledore mostly making small talk and asking about his classes and Damocles Belby’s lecture. Severus was quite willing to talk about his favorite subject, and he eagerly shared some of the experiments he wanted to try to improve the effectiveness of the Wolfsbane potion.
“That’s quite an admirable goal, my boy,” Dumbledore said approvingly. “The world could certainly use more people like you who are open minded and accepting of others despite their differences.”
Two light pink spots graced the twelve-year-old’s cheeks. “Well, it’s great that the Wolfsbane potion prevents the wolf from hurting other humans, but I want to create a version that dampens the pain signals as well. I read that a werewolf’s transformation supposedly hurts as much as breaking all of your bones at once would.” He’d had plenty of experience with broken bones thanks to his father, and it was agonizing. “No one deserves that, even if they do turn into a scary monster once a month,” he finished in a mumble.
Dumbledore smiled at him fondly. “You are quite an amazing young man, Severus,” he remarked quietly.
Unsure of how to react to the praise, Severus hastily reached for his milk and took a big gulp. Swallowing, he choked in surprise as it went down the wrong pipe, leaving him gasping and spluttering for air. His throat cleared soon after, but in his panic, he hadn’t noticed that his hold on his glass had unwittingly loosened. Less than a second later, the glass fully slipped from his grasp and shattered, hitting the floor and sending little pieces of shining crystal scattering across the floor.
All color fled from Severus’ face as he stared in horror at the mess he’d made. Without thinking, he snatched the Yorkshire pudding from his plate and stuffed it in his pocket, certain that he’d be denied many meals for this transgression. Seeing that his guardian was still sitting frozen, he quickly knelt down and reached for the shards. Maybe if he picked them all up, the man wouldn’t punish him as severely.
“Severus, stop!”
The twelve-year-old froze at the shouted order, his fingers an inch away from the largest piece of broken glass.
“Don’t move,” Dumbledore exclaimed, hastening from his chair. He waved his wand a couple of times, and the mess vanished. “Okay. Let me see your hands now.”
Visibly shaking, Severus held out his hands, his eyes wide with terror. But his guardian only took them in his own larger ones, carefully inspecting the pads of his fingers for cuts.
“Thank Merlin,” Dumbledore muttered upon finding no injuries. “You could have hurt yourself, child! What were you thinking, trying to pick up that glass with your bare hands?”
“I-I’m sorry,” Severus whispered in a wobbly voice. Wasn’t his guardian mad at him for breaking the glass? “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”
It was only then that the headmaster seemed to notice his ward’s quivering body. “My dear boy,” Dumbledore sighed, lowering himself to his knees and tugging Severus closer. “Look at me, please?”
Severus bravely obeyed, prepared for the worst.
“You’re not in any trouble, okay? It was an accident. I know that you didn’t mean to break the glass,” Dumbledore soothed in a reassuring tone, rubbing his shoulders. “Let’s get you a new glass of milk, hmm? Mopsy?”
“What can Mospy be doing for Master Dumblydore?” asked a house elf dressed in an elegant toga with the Hogwarts crest.
“Could you please bring a glass of milk with a nutrient potion in it?” Dumbledore requested. The house popped away and appeared with the drink in question a second later. “Thank you, Mopsy,” he said, placing the glass next to Severus’ spot and guiding him back to his seat.
“Why are you doing this?” Severus asked in a small, lost voice. “Why aren’t you punishing me?”
Dumbledore eyed him gently. “Because you didn’t do anything wrong, child. We all have accidents, and sometimes things get broken, but that’s okay as long as we didn’t intend for it to happen and no one was harmed.”
The twelve-year-old nodded hesitantly. Back at Spinner’s End, it hadn’t mattered what he’d intended when he’d made a mistake or had an accident, the result had always been a thrashing. But he was slowly coming to understand that things were different at Hogwarts with his new guardian. It was just a matter of figuring out what those differences were, and what was still the same.
“I couldn’t help but notice that your first reaction was to hide food in your pocket,” Dumbledore continued in a soft, non-threatening tone. “Can you tell me why you felt the need to do that?”
Severus flushed and placed the Yorkshire pudding back on his plate, the tips of his ears burning red. “Sorry, sir,” he mumbled.
“Again, you’re not in any trouble, child. But I think it would be a good idea if we discussed this a little bit. Was food often taken away as a punishment when you lived with your parents?” Dumbledore asked calmly.
Severus ducked his head and shrugged. “My father allowed me his leftovers when I’d been good, and I went without when I’d been bad. Mum just went along with whatever he said. If I was bad for a few days in a row, then I’d just go hungry and try not to mess up again.”
“I see.” There was a flicker of steel in Dumbledore’s tone, but he hid it well, not wanting to frighten his ward. “So back at Spinner’s End, food was a privilege to be taken away or granted based on your behavior.”
Severus nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Dumbledore took a deep breath. “And do you believe it was acceptable for your mother and father to deny you food as a punishment?”
The twelve-year-old chewed on his bottom lip uncertainly. He remembered having a conversation very similar to this one with McGonagall a few months ago. She had said that being denied food every day had been abuse. He hadn’t believed her back then, but now he wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know what to believe,” he admitted in a whisper.
“Then perhaps I can shed some light on the matter. Denying a child daily sustenance as a punishment is wrong, end of story,” Dumbledore insisted emphatically. “When food is available, it is a human right to eat, not a privilege. It is abusive and illegal to willfully starve a child, and Tobias will be made to answer for this at his trial.”
Severus swallowed thickly. First his guardian had told him that his father beating him had been abusive, and now he was agreeing with McGonagall that being forced to go hungry for days was wrong. It went against everything the twelve-year-old had ever been taught by his parents, and he still wasn’t fully convinced that he had actually been abused. But there was a selfish, desperate part of him that couldn’t help but hope that Dumbledore and McGonagall were right, and maybe everything at Spinner’s End hadn’t all been his fault.
“I will never deny you three meals a day,” Dumbledore promised solemnly, holding Severus’ small hands between his own. “Dessert may be taken away, but never food. You do not have to fear hunger and starvation with our family. Do you understand?”
Severus managed to nod, blinking rapidly against the stinging in his eyes at the mention of family. His parents had never wanted him in their lives, but for some miraculous reason, it seemed that his guardian did. And even if it wasn’t going to last forever, being accepted for even a moment meant the world to him.
“Good lad,” Dumbledore said softly, giving his hands a squeeze before letting go. “Now, don’t forget to finish your milk.”
A short while later, after the food had been finished and the dishes cleared away, Severus found himself lounging comfortably in their family room by the fireplace, a fascinating potions book in his hands. He had finished his guardian’s assignment, and homework could wait until the next day. Dumbledore was sitting across from him, working on what seemed like never-ending paperwork. It would have been a peaceful evening, if Severus wasn’t a Slytherin and hadn’t caught on to the furtive glances his guardian kept sending him every few minutes.
After what seemed like twenty minutes of this, Severus finally put down his book, unable to concentrate on his reading while clearly being observed. If this was his guardian’s attempt at subtlety, it needed a lot of work. “Is there something on my face, sir?” he asked with a hint of exasperation.
Dumbledore had the decency to look slightly sheepish at being caught. “Ah, I apologize, my boy. I have been debating the best time to discuss a rather important matter from earlier with you, but it seems that perhaps now would be ideal.”
Severus’ breath caught, his heartbeat accelerating rapidly. He had a strong feeling that he knew what Dumbledore wanted to talk about, and he was not at all ready for this conversation. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to speak. “W-What did you want to talk about?” he asked faintly.
“I think you know, child.”
Severus was not ashamed that he chose to run. Or at least, he tried to. Dumbledore must have been expecting it because as soon as he leapt up from his seat and bolted for the door, a hand shot out and grabbed ahold of his upper arm, pulling him back.
“Let me go!”
“No, my boy. This is a conversation that needs to happen,” Dumbledore said calmly, maneuvering the struggling child to rest against his chest. “Madam Pomfrey discovered the cuts and scratches a while ago, but we didn’t bring it up because our relationship was still very rocky. But I think it’s something we need to address more seriously now.”
Shaking his head in denial, Severus opened his mouth to quickly change the subject, but nothing came out. Not knowing what else to do, he renewed his struggles against his guardian’s firm grasp, but all he managed to do was squirm uselessly. “It was an accident,” he lied weakly.
“I don’t think it was, my boy,” Dumbledore said quietly. “But that’s okay. You’re not alone anymore. I’m going to be with you every step of the way as we figure this out.”
Severus scowled defensively. “I don’t need help! I’m fine.”
“Hurting yourself indicates that you are not fine, child. Madam Pomfrey has a friend who I’ve spoken with from St. Mungo’s child psychology ward, and we all think it would be a good idea if you talked with him at least once.”
Severus’ eyes widened fearfully. He knew all about what they meant. His father had often threatened to send him away where he’d be locked up forever in a hospital for crazy freaks.
“What do you think, my boy? Would you be willing to give it a try?”
“No, let me go!” Severus burst out hysterically, violently thrashing around in Dumbledore’s arms in a desperate attempt to escape. “I won’t go. You can’t make me. I’m not crazy!”
“Severus, child, calm down,” Dumbledore gasped in surprise, straining to keep him from fleeing. “Seeing a mind healer doesn’t mean that you’re crazy!”
“Yes, it does!” Severus cried. “You’re trying to trick me. You were being all nice to me before, but I figured it out. You’re sending me away to be locked in the loony bin forever!”
“Not one bit of that is true,” Dumbledore insisted, narrowly dodging a sharp elbow aimed at his face. “Healer Smythe will come to Hogwarts for your appointment. I’m not sending you anywhere, I promise.” The child’s thrashing lessened for a second, and the headmaster quickly took advantage of the reprieve to firmly secure the boy’s limbs. His body was getting a bit too old to get kicked in the shins and elbowed in the stomach any more times than he already had in the past couple of minutes. “Let’s try our breathing technique, okay? Deep breath in, now deep breath out. Again. That’s right.”
After a few shuddered gasps, Severus’ erratic breathing steadied out as he let the calming pace of his guardian’s heartbeat wash over him. “You’re really not going to send me to be locked away forever?” he asked in a timid, tearful voice.
“No, I’m not, child. You can even meet with Healer Smythe in my private study if that’s what you’d prefer. And I can be there with you the entire time if that’d make you feel more comfortable,” Dumbledore promised.
“But I’m not crazy,” Severus mumbled.
“Talking with a mind healer doesn’t mean that you’re crazy. All sorts of people see mind healers for a variety of reasons, including many people who don’t even have any diagnosable psychological disorder,” Dumbledore explained. “And for people who are struggling with very real and serious mental health issues, they should be treated with the same dignity and respect that everyone else is granted. Struggling with your mental health and asking for help does not make you weak or mean that there’s something inherently wrong with you, despite the stigma. In fact, I think it’s a sign of bravery and maturity to seek professional psychological help. It’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of in any case.”
Severus nibbled on his lip as he thought about what his guardian had said. He didn’t want to be even more of a freak than he already was, but Dumbledore made it seem like it was okay for anyone to talk to a mind healer, even if they were perfectly normal. He jumped slightly as two fingers touched his chin and gently lifted his head.
“Just give it a chance, my boy. Please?”
Severus hesitantly met his guardian’s gaze. The blue eyes were warm and sincere without even a hint of an ulterior motive. Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to talk with a mind healer. It wasn’t like he’d need to trust the stranger with any big secrets. And if the healer could help him be less bad, then maybe he wouldn’t be such a burden anymore, and Dumbledore would be willing to keep him for a bit longer before inevitably sending him away.
Gathering all of his courage, he slowly nodded his head, his answer spoken in a trembling yet determined whisper. “Okay.”
Chapter Text
It was late afternoon when the headmaster swept into his office having just come from the regular weekday staff meeting. Noticing the familiar face already waiting for him, Albus nodded in greeting, a welcoming smile gracing his face.
“Jacob, thank you so much for coming,” he said gratefully, shaking the mind healer’s hand. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long?”
“Not at all, I only just arrived,” Healer Smythe returned amiably. “Will Severus and I be meeting in your office today?”
Albus shook his head. “He said he’d prefer the privacy of my study. I believe he is currently waiting for us there.” Leading the way, he showed the healer into his quarters and down the hall. When they reached the study, he knocked briefly before opening the door and stepping inside. “Severus, Healer Smythe is here,” he announced. His brow furrowed when a quick survey of the room showed that his ward was nowhere to be found.
“Perhaps he is still returning from afternoon classes?” Healer Smythe suggested.
“No, the child returned to our quarters an hour ago. He’s currently grounded, so he shouldn’t have left without permission,” Albus explained, his expression morphing into frown. “I apologize, Jacob, I asked him to be here at half past three.”
“Not to worry, this is far from the first time this has happened with one of my patients,” Healer Smythe replied easily. At the headmaster’s questioning look, he elaborated. “I would not be surprised if young Severus is feeling a bit apprehensive about our meeting. For many children who come from difficult backgrounds, talking with a mind healer for the first time can be quite a daunting task.”
Albus’ frustrated posture visibly deflated. “Of course, it was foolish of me not to consider that, especially after the boy’s initial reaction to speaking with someone,” he murmured. “The poor child was terrified.”
Healer Smythe inclined his head slightly. “You are still adapting to this relationship, as is Severus. You cannot blame yourself for every mistake. If your bond has improved as you’ve described to me though, then I suspect that all he might need is a little reassurance reminding him that you’re there for him.”
“Thank you, Jacob,” Albus acknowledged. “Please excuse me, and I will hopefully be back soon.” Leaving the study, he made his way towards Severus’ room, hoping that his ward was still there and hadn’t left their quarters. He should have anticipated that the child might be too frightened to show up to his appointment, even if he had agreed before.
“Severus?” Tapping quietly on the door, the headmaster entered the bedroom, looking around for any sign of its occupant. The bed was neatly made with a few items of clothing strewn across the floor, but the rest of the room gave no clues as to where the boy could have gone. With a heavy sigh, he turned to leave, resigning himself to the inevitable search of the castle. It seemed that his ward had disregarded his grounding and fled while Albus had been occupied with the staff meeting.
“Achoo!”
His hand stilled from its place on the doorknob as the sound of a barely audible sneeze reached his ears. Turning around, he scanned the room again with narrowed eyes, searching for the source of the sneeze. The child had to be hidden somewhere within the four walls, but where could he possibly be? He wasn’t under the desk or the bed, and the room didn’t have a closet. The only other significant furnishing was the dresser, and despite the twelve-year-old’s still too small size, there was no way he could fit into one of the drawers. Stepping around the clothing scattered across the floor, he absentmindedly noted that it was a bit unusual for the boy to not pick up after himself. Severus was generally a very tidy child, probably having had it cruelly conditioned into him at a young age, so laundry was rarely not in the hamper where it belonged.
The laundry hamper, Albus suddenly realized, his gaze darting to the innocuous brown wicker basket sitting in the corner. It was just big enough for an underweight, preteen child to hide inside, although the fit would be tight. That would explain why there were dirty clothes strewn around; Severus had likely had to empty the basket in order to squeeze inside.
Crossing the room, he slowly took the hamper lid off and peered inside. At first glance, it just looked like a pile of clothes, but just visible under a crumpled-up shirt was a small clenched hand. Albus’ heart thumped painfully as he saw the child’s knuckles tighten in fear as he sensed his hiding place being discovered. “There you are, Severus. I was worried about you,” he said softly. He gently tugged the shirt from the balled hand, meeting fearful onyx eyes. “It’s okay. You’re not in any trouble.”
The twelve-year-old merely whimpered and snagged another clothing item, moving it so that he was once again hidden from sight. Sighing, Albus reached down and carefully removed the new garment that was covering his ward. “Hiding isn’t going to make me disappear, Severus,” he voiced lightly. “How about you come out of there, and we can talk about it on your bed instead?”
Reluctantly, the small boy unfurled from his cramped position and tried to climb out of the hamper. Noticing his struggles, Albus reached under the child’s arms and lifted him up and out of the basket. “That’s better,” he announced with a kind smile before settling his ward down on the bed beside him. “I imagine it wasn’t very comfortable being cooped up in the hamper for so long.”
The boy shook his head in agreement but remained silent.
“Why were you hiding, Severus?” Albus asked, trying to coax the boy out of his protective shell. “Was it maybe because you’re a little frightened to meet Healer Smythe?”
“I’m not scared!” the twelve-year-old retorted, but he didn’t resist as Albus drew an arm around his shoulders and pulled him against his side.
“Healer Smythe is very nice,” Albus said, trying to reassure him.
The black-haired boy scoffed doubtfully. “Sure. And Hagrid’s pets are harmless, friendly fluff balls.”
Albus chuckled quietly. “You have nothing to fear from Healer Smythe, Severus. All he wants to do is have a conversation with you. Would you feel better if I stayed in the room during your appointment?”
“I’d feel better if you told him to go away,” the boy answered petulantly. At his guardian’s scolding look, he dropped his gaze. “Do I have to go?” he whispered in a small, wobbly voice.
“I won’t force you to go, but I do think it would help you.” Wondering how to prevent his ward’s outright refusal, Albus hummed thoughtfully. “How about we make a deal, Severus?”
“What kind of deal?” the small child asked warily.
“Well, if you agree to meet with Healer Smythe today, then I’ll make room in my schedule to supervise you for an hour of experimental brewing as soon as your grounding is over. What do you say?” Albus proposed.
The boy nibbled on his bottom lip before slowly nodding. “Okay, it’s a deal. But… you promise he won’t take me away?”
Albus clasped his hand solemnly. “I promise.”
Severus took a deep breath, then bravely stood up. “Okay, then I’ll go.”
As they entered the study, any courage that Severus had previously held vanished the instant his eyes fell on the tall figure sitting in the headmaster’s chair. His grip tightened on his guardian’s robes, and he faltered in his step. What if the man was just like his father and tried to hurt him? There was no way Dumbledore would believe a twelve-year-old brat over a reputable adult from St. Mungo’s!
“Hi, Severus. It’s nice to meet you,” the healer said warmly. “My name is Jacob Smythe, but you are welcome to call me either Jacob or Healer Smythe, whatever you’re most comfortable with.”
Severus glared at him distrustfully, not even realizing that he was practically hiding behind his guardian’s legs. Appearances could be deceiving, and just because the man had a nice smile and kind eyes didn’t mean anything. Scowling at the expectant nudge from Dumbledore, he grudgingly bit out a short greeting.
“Perhaps I should stay for this first meeting?” Dumbledore suggested awkwardly.
“It’s up to both of you. Anything is fine with me,” Healer Smythe replied nonchalantly. His attention shifted to Severus who shuffled nervously. “I do like to inform all of my patients that as a healer, I am required to take a magical Hippocratic Oath meaning that if I knowingly violate an ethical standard, I will lose my magic. You need not worry about your safety with me.”
Severus’ eyes widened comically. The healer had sworn on his magic not to harm his patients? But that meant that the man couldn’t hit him or curse him unless he wanted to become a squib!
“Severus? What would you prefer that I stay or go?” Dumbledore inquired gently.
The twelve-year-old bravely squared his shoulders. He wasn’t a baby, so it would be ungrateful to waste his guardian’s time by making the man stay for a stupid conversation. Especially since the healer wasn’t even allowed to hurt him. “You can go,” he said decidedly.
Dumbledore tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll leave you two to it, then. If you need me, I’ll be in the living room.”
The door closed quietly behind him, and Severus swallowed, realizing that he was now completely alone with an unfamiliar adult. Crossing his arms, he defiantly jutted out his chin and sneered, trying to mask his fear. “I don’t need your help. I’m perfectly fine, and there’s nothing to talk about.”
The healer smiled, unperturbed. “Okay then. We can just sit here in silence for the hour if that’s what you’d prefer.”
Eyeing the man suspiciously, Severus climbed into the other armchair and waited expectantly. Surely the healer was going to do something to try and trick him into sharing his secrets! The clock ticked by, signaling the minutes passing, but the man still didn’t say a word.
Five minutes of silence later, Smythe finally opened his briefcase, eliciting a triumphant smirk from the twelve-year-old. He knew that the mind healer would try and make him talk! He was probably looking in all those papers for some strategy on how to convince kids to cooperate. Well, the healer was going to be in for an unpleasant surprise because he wasn’t going to say a word!
“I hope you don’t mind if I do some paperwork?” Healer Smythe asked mildly.
Severus’ jaw practically dropped before he wordlessly nodded permission. Why wasn’t the healer trying to make him talk? Had Dumbledore chosen a loony mind healer to speak with him? He fidgeted restlessly, watching the grandfather clock as ten minutes passed by with nothing but the sound of the healer’s quill scratching. This was almost as boring as standing in the corner! And he still had another forty-five minutes to wait before the weird healer left. Hmm… maybe he could sneak a peek at what the man was scribbling down to pass the time.
Craning his head, he peered down at the papers, only to see a nonsensical jumble of letters. Well, that settled it. His mind healer was a phony. He had to be a pretty good phony too if he’d managed to trick the Albus Dumbledore into believing him. “What’s your real job?” the twelve-year-old blurted out. “I know you’re not a real mind healer,” he elaborated, gesturing at the gibberish paperwork. “Are you an auror working on a secret case?”
Healer Smythe’s lips quirked up. “Ah, nothing that exciting, I’m afraid. I am indeed a certified mind healer. My paperwork is charmed to be indecipherable outside of St. Mungo’s since certain patient information is confidential.”
Severus’ shoulders slumped. “Oh. Never mind.” He’d been sure that he’d caught the man in his lie, but that made sense about confidentiality. The silence resumed, and the twelve-year-old kicked his legs in boredom, watching them swing back and forth. He wasn’t tall enough yet for his feet to touch the floor. “Are you writing about a patient now?” he asked a few moments later, unable to help his curiosity.
“I can’t share identifying information, but if you’re curious, I’m pondering the best course of action to take with a young client of mine,” Healer Smythe revealed. “He struggles with regulating his emotions and often lashes out or runs away when he feels overwhelmed, sometimes hurting others or himself in the process. The boy also has very low self-esteem, having been taught from a young age that he isn’t worthy of love and care. I’m not quite sure how to approach this.”
Severus frowned. He could relate to the other boy the healer was describing quite well. “Emotions can be hard,” he admitted slowly.
“How so?”
“I dunno,” the twelve-year-old shrugged. “They just are. It’s like they come at you all at once, and there’s nothing you can do. And then by the time they’re gone, it’s too late and you’ve already messed up and gotten in trouble.”
The healer hummed. “I think I understand what you mean. I imagine it can feel particularly daunting when very strong, negative emotions like sorrow or fear or anger suddenly build up inside and want to explode outwards. But I don’t think we necessarily have to let our emotions control us. With the right tools, we can choose how we react to strong feelings.”
Severus scoffed, unimpressed. “You’re an adult. You don’t understand how it works with kids like m—I mean, that boy. He’s probably a problem kid who always acts out and does something wrong no matter what. He can’t be fixed.”
“I’m afraid I have to disagree with you there,” Healer Smythe countered. “There is nothing wrong or broken about this boy. He is not the problem. The problem is the behavior that results from this boy not knowing how to handle his strong emotions. But if he did have strategies for handling such emotions, then they wouldn’t burst out of him uncontrollably in the form of bad behavior, and he wouldn’t end up in trouble quite as much.”
Severus’ face scrunched up in confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
The healer raised an eyebrow. “Fair enough. Let me give you a scenario then. This boy who we’ve been talking about, let’s just call him S for now, has just been insulted and made fun of by his classmate. S reacts by hexing his classmate and then goes somewhere to be alone and scratches his arms until they hurt. What do you think would happen once S’ teachers found out about this?”
“He’d be in trouble and get detention for attacking his classmate ‘cause he’s a bad kid,” Severus stated certainly.
“He would get in trouble for his bad behavior,” Healer Smythe corrected. “Hexing another person is an action and behavior, not a personal characteristic. Let’s rewind though. What emotions do you think S was experiencing after his classmate was mean to him?”
Severus chewed on his lip, knowing exactly how the boy would feel from personal experience with stupid Black and Potter. “Anger. He’d be angry at his classmate for picking on him.”
“Okay, and what about when S decided to scratch himself?”
That one was trickier. “I guess… embarrassment. And hatred for himself. Especially if the insults were true,” Severus mumbled, his gaze wandering to his own scratched wrist which was still covered with a bandage.
The healer nodded. “I’d say the same thing. So now that we’ve identified the emotions, let’s try to externalize them.” The man took out a piece of paper and wrote down each of the three emotions he’d listed and circled them. “Let’s start with anger. Pretend anger is a separate entity from S. What did anger make S do?”
Severus stared at the healer weirdly but decided to play along. “Uh, anger made S hex his classmate?”
“Exactly. And what about embarrassment? What behavior did embarrassment do?”
“Embarrassment made S feel like he had to run away and hide.”
“And self-hatred?”
“It made him hurt himself because he wanted to punish himself for being weak,” Severus muttered, clenching his fists.
“Okay, so now that we’ve identified the link between emotions and behaviors, I would say that if we have the right tools to regulate these emotions, then they can’t make us do these behaviors. Would you agree?” the healer asked.
Severus nodded hesitantly, hardly even noticing as the man casually reached out and uncurled his hands. “I guess so. I remember my guardian telling me about a few techniques he uses when he gets angry.”
“That’s fantastic,” Healer Smythe smiled, pleased to hear that the headmaster was modeling emotion regulation techniques for his ward. “Might I ask what they are?”
“Uhh,” Severus tilted his head, trying to remember what Dumbledore had said after he’d gotten into that brawl with Black. “One and two are to get an authority figure or walk away if the situation involves another student. And then the third is deep breathing while counting or silently reciting something to calm down.”
“Those are all very good strategies,” the healer agreed. “Deep breathing is probably the most universal emotion regulation strategy since it can be used in any situation, alone or with others, to calm strong emotions. So, if we go back to S’s situation, what do you think would have happened if S had used any of those three strategies that you just listed to handle anger?”
“He… He probably wouldn’t have hexed his classmate,” Severus said.
“That’s right. And since he didn’t hex his classmate, he wouldn’t have gotten in trouble with his teachers. So that’s an example of how addressing anger, the source of this original unacceptable behavior, can change the outcome.”
Severus nodded slowly. That made sense. It was almost like playing pretend, and anger was a sibling who was trying to get the boy in trouble. But anger wouldn’t succeed if the boy managed to control it.
“Now embarrassment and self-hatred are a bit harder because they’re linked to self-esteem and how S views himself,” the healer continued. “I would say that in S’s case, the behavioral outcome that we want to prevent is him hurting himself. Using the deep breathing technique could help S lessen his feelings of embarrassment and self-hatred, but I also know of a physical tool that can help reduce strong emotions in the heat of the moment. It’s actually a spell, if you’d like to learn it?”
Severus nodded eagerly and took out his wand. Finally, something practical!
“Okay, now watch and listen carefully. The wand movement is a circular motion and a flick, and the incantation is formare glacies.” The healer demonstrated the spell, and a moment later, he was holding a conjured ice cube. “Why don’t you give it a try now?”
Severus’ brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully waved his wand in the specified motions. “Formare glacies,” he intoned. He grinned when an ice cube successfully appeared in his hand. “I did it!”
“Yes, very well done,” Healer Smythe praised. “Squeezing an ice cube can help ground you and distract you from strong distressing emotions, but unlike scratching or cutting, it doesn’t end in injury. It can also help activate the parasympathetic nervous system which helps you calm down.”
“Wicked,” Severus breathed, playing with the ice cube. Maybe the healer really wasn’t a phony. He certainly seemed to know what he was talking about.
“I’m glad you think so,” the healer said, smiling at him. “Now we’re almost out of time, so I want to bring us back to S’ situation before we end,” he resumed. “What S is going through is not at all uncommon for children and teenagers. The externalization technique of considering our emotions as a separate part of us rather than something that is innate and uncontrollable can be very useful for learning how to change our behavior. This technique helps us identify our emotions and the tools we need to regulate them, enabling us to avoid behaviors that’ll get us in trouble when strong emotions suddenly hit at full force.” The healer paused before placing a finger under Severus’ chin so that their eyes met. “The boy in our story is not a bad child or a broken child, and neither are you. Whether S’ full name is Steven, Seth, or even Severus, he is capable of change and growth.”
Severus pouted slightly when he realized he’d been tricked, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel upset with the healer. He was still struggling to believe that adults might actually care about him, and that he wasn’t a worthless burden who was incapable of being good. This would likely take years to fully move past, and even then, some scars would always linger from the lessons his parents had impressed upon him since birth. But maybe therapy would help, and he’d be able to improve even just a small bit. Because maybe he wasn’t all bad.
“Thank you,” he whispered to the healer.
“It was my pleasure, Severus.”
Albus smiled as he tucked a sleepy twelve-year-old into bed, hushing the child’s weak protests about being too old. Jacob had told him that their session had gone well and that Severus had agreed to meet with him twice a month, much to all of the adults’ relief. Although Jacob had stressed that the most important thing was for himself and Minerva to continue bonding and building trust with the child, they all knew that a trained mind healer would be best for the more clinical issues that Severus struggled with. The hope was that over time, the boy would become more comfortable sharing his thoughts and feelings with his guardian and godmother, and their love and care combined with Jacob’s help would increase Severus’ sense of self-worth and confidence that his new family would always be there for him.
“You were very courageous today, my boy,” Albus praised as he pulled the covers up to his ward’s chin. “It’s not an easy thing to make yourself vulnerable, so I’m very proud that you were willing to talk with Healer Smythe.”
The boy blushed faintly. “I did accuse him of being a fake at first,” he admitted.
Albus chuckled. “Ah yes, Jacob did mention your original disbelief of his qualifications. I probably would have thought the same if my healer had acted similarly.” When he’d bemusedly asked for the healer’s reasoning behind that, the man had explained that if children were reluctant to talk, sitting in silence watching him do paperwork would often make them bored enough to start a conversation, and he would work from there.
“It wasn’t too awful after he stopped doing his boring paperwork, though,” Severus allowed. “He had some pretty good ideas. But just because it wasn’t awful doesn’t mean you’re not going to supervise me for an extra hour of potions experimenting, right?”
“I will still supervise your extra brewing hour, my boy.” Albus assured him, his eyes twinkling. “After your grounding is over, I’ll arrange a time with Professor Slughorn when the lab is free. But that doesn’t mean you’ll be allowed to experiment with potions over OWL level. Those potions are still too advanced for someone your age.”
The child pouted petulantly, and Albus hid a smirk, knowing that the boy would vehemently deny it if pointed out.
“When will I be old enough to experiment with them? All the fun potions are OWL or NEWT level,” the twelve-year-old whined.
“You will only be allowed to experiment with upper level potions once your magical core is more stable,” Albus replied, adopting a stern expression. “I won’t have you getting hurt by trying them before you’re ready, young man.”
“But I’m good enough now!”
“It isn’t about talent, Severus,” Albus chided. “I know that you are extremely prodigious in potions, and while I have no doubt that you could brew the higher-level potions, they’re very taxing on the magical core of someone as young as you. You can accidentally drain your core.”
The boy pulled a face. “I want to be an adult already. Kids don’t get to do anything fun.”
Albus chuckled. “Childhood is over far too fast, my boy. Enjoy it while you can. For one thing, there’s a lot more paperwork involved when you’re an adult.”
“Yuck,” the child replied, sticking out his tongue.
“Indeed. Yuck,” Albus agreed playfully. “Anyway, it is past your bedtime now, so it’s time for you to go to sleep. Goodnight, my boy.”
“G’night, sir.”
Albus turned off the lights and softly closed the door behind him before making his way to his study. Severus was still calling him ‘sir’ all the time, but Jacob had said that the child likely wasn’t comfortable with calling him by his first name yet. It would hopefully come with time as Severus came to trust that he wasn’t going to be abandoned or punished for disrespect if he used his guardian’s first name.
Settling into his chair, Albus shifted his focus and started drafting a new set of war plans. He had discovered that Tom had made horcruxes, and the Order of the Phoenix was working hard to track them down and destroy them. So far, they had taken care of Ravenclaw’s diadem and the Gaunt ring. Alastor Moody had destroyed the ring horcrux since Albus had known that he wouldn’t have been able to resist the temptation of using the Resurrection Stone, and then he had destroyed the diadem with fiendfyre. From their research, the Order suspected that there were five horcruxes in total at this point, but Albus knew that Tom had contemplated making seven in his youth, so it was a race against the clock to identify and destroy the remaining three before his old student could make any more.
Hopefully, they would be able to finish this all before it became anything like the war against Grindelwald. For all of their sakes, and especially for Severus’. Albus knew that Tom wasn’t above telling his Death Eaters to target his ward as a way to get to him, and if the war wasn’t finished by Severus’ third year, he would likely have to forbid the boy’s outings into Hogsmeade with his peers. He would do it if necessary, but he wanted his ward to grow up without having to fear for his safety outside of Hogwarts’ walls.
Several hours passed as the headmaster poured over old records, trying to determine what the remaining horcruxes could be. He had a few leads, like the house elf of Hepzibah Smith, but the woman had an extensive antique collection, and he was still figuring out what item or items Tom might have chosen. With a sigh, Albus stood up, ready to call it a night. It was already past midnight, and he had a long day of meetings ahead of him.
Leaving the study, he headed for his bedroom, ready to get a good night’s sleep. With a few lazy waves of his wand, he was in his nightclothes with his teeth cleaned. Lying down on the cozy bed, he pulled the covers over his body and relaxed. His eyes had just fluttered closed when he heard the piercing scream of a young boy.
Chapter Text
Severus’ eyes flew open, a shrill cry escaping his lips as he was torn from his nightmare. Letting out a choked sob, he pulled his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around them, trying to comfort himself. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he tried to forget the look of pure rage on his father’s face when the man had caught him sneaking food scraps out of the rubbish bin at age six. Subconsciously, his finger traced the small, curved scar on his calf. He had been ordered to cut three switches from the birch tree for that transgression.
“Severus!” a male voice bellowed.
The boy’s head shot up in terror as Dumbledore barged into the room, his wand raised. The man strode towards him purposefully, and without a second of hesitation, Severus threw himself off the bed and scrambled for the door. He cried out as strong arms caught him, dragging him back to the bed for what would surely be a painful correction. His father had always made his displeasure quite clear whenever he’d been awoken by his worthless son’s screams.
“I’m sorry,” Severus whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the first blow.
“Child, it’s only me, Albus. You’re safe at Hogwarts now. No one is going to hurt you,” the headmaster murmured into his ear, ignoring the panicked flailing of limbs as he gently rocked the child against his chest.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up!” Severus blubbered, pure terror overriding his ability to process what his guardian had said. “I swear I put up silencing charms. I don’t know what happened. But I promise it won’t happen again!”
“Have you been having nightmares frequently?” Dumbledore frowned, sounding concerned.
“I’m sorry, sir! I swear I won’t forget the spell again. Please don’t get rid of me,” Severus begged, his pitch rising in desperation. He just knew that his guardian was going to send him away for being so much trouble.
“My dear boy—”
“I’m sorry. Really sorry,” Severus repeated frantically, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Punish me as much as you want. Y-You can use my b-belt! Just please let me stay, and I swear I'll never wake you up again!”
Dumbledore let out a quiet sigh and sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling the distressed child into his lap. The boy was still so small. “Hush, calm down now. You’re okay, my boy. I'm not going to hurt you.”
“Then you're going to kick me out!” Severus wailed plaintively, renewing his struggles. “Please, sir, I don’t want to go back to him. Please punish me instead!”
“Severus, listen to me,” Dumbledore insisted, grabbing the distressed boy’s wrists until he’d calmed down a bit. “No one is getting punished or sent away. I am your guardian until you come of age, and nothing is going to change that.”
“I—You never wanted a child in the first place, though. And I know I’m not the kind of kid that people do want," Severus admitted, biting his lip miserably. “I’m ugly and worthless and always causing trouble. But I swear I’ll try to stop being such a burden, and I promise to be more obedient and respectful! Just please don’t send me back to my father,” he pleaded in a broken whisper. A warm hand cupped his chin and tilted it upwards until he was looking into his guardian’s solemn blue eyes.
“First of all, that’s my ward you’re talking about, and I don’t appreciate you badmouthing him,” Dumbledore scolded lightly. “My ward is a wonderful young wizard, and he is most certainly not worthless. He’s an intelligent, curious, and passionate boy who I have come to care for as my own, and while he does have a penchant for mischief, most young lads do.”
“You really mean that?” Severus asked in a wobbly voice, eyeing him hopefully.
“I do,” Dumbledore confirmed. “As for your biological father, he is in Ministry custody without bail until his scheduled trial in June. But even after he serves his inevitable prison sentence, you will never return to him.”
Severus jerked his head away and rolled onto his side, curling up into a protective ball. “You’re lying. He’ll find me. He always does.” That was the bitter truth. Tobias had been arrested a few times for unpaid debts and drunken fist fights before, but the man had never been held in jail for long. And while Severus had always tried to be far away from home each time his father was released, the man had never failed to track him down wherever he was hiding. The beating behind closed doors was only worse for trying to avoid it.
“Perhaps he has,” Dumbledore conceded softly after a moment. “But in the past, you didn’t have another adult willing to protect you. Now you have me as your guardian, and not to brag, but Tobias is no match for a wizard of my caliber. I will never let him touch even a hair on your head again.”
Severus shifted onto his knees to stare into his guardian’s eyes. “Pinky promise?” he asked childishly.
“I pinky promise,” Dumbledore swore, linking the child’s finger with his own.
The twelve-year-old allowed himself a small, relieved sigh as he leaned against his guardian’s side. Adults broke their promises all the time, but his guardian seemed adamant that he would never return to his father, so maybe he’d just be sent to a regular orphanage when he inevitably messed up enough. But even a muggle orphanage would be better than having to return to his father, and if he begged real nicely, maybe the aurors would even make Tobias forget that he had a son.
“It sounded like you were having a pretty scary nightmare when I came in,” Dumbledore commented lightly, shaking him from his thoughts. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Severus ducked his head, his cheeks flushing in humiliation. Merlin, he was such a weak baby to start sniveling over a nightmare. It was a wonder that his guardian could stand him. “I’m fine,” he mumbled reflexively. “It wasn’t a big deal. I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“You didn’t wake me up, and even if you had, I wouldn’t have minded. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your dream? Even if you’re fine, talking often helps,” Dumbledore coaxed. “Was it… was it about your father?”
Severus bit his lip and hesitated before giving a short nod.
“Were you dreaming about him being released from prison?”
The twelve-year-old didn’t respond, instead choosing to bury his face in his hands. He was so freaking pathetic.
“Hey now, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, my boy. We all have frightening dreams no matter how old we are,” Dumbledore soothed, prying his hands away from their spot and capturing them with his own. “Did your father hurt you in your dream?”
Severus twisted around and buried his face in his guardian’s robes, drawing comfort from the familiar smell of lemon drops and parchment. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to share just a little bit. “I… I was being punished for burning his bacon,” he admitted in a muffled voice. “No meals for two days. But I was really dumb back then and tried to sneak some scraps from the bin during my father’s usual afternoon nap. He woke up early and caught me.”
Dumbledore’s expression darkened. “You were a child trying to survive the vile cruelty of your father deliberately starving you. There is nothing dumb about that, understood?” he snapped angrily.
Severus instinctively flinched at his guardian’s tone, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed.
“I apologize,” Dumbledore said in a considerably softer voice. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you. You do understand that you will never have to worry about scrummaging for food scraps again though, yes?”
“I know,” Severus said quietly, surprised to realize that he truly did believe that. He’d broken plenty of rules since the headmaster had taken over his guardianship, but the man had never denied him food, even when he’d behaved really, really badly.
“I’m glad you do,” Dumbledore answered with a warm smile that quickly faded. “I take it that your father wasn’t pleased when he caught you?”
The dark-haired boy winced. That was an understatement. “H-He was furious. It was the first time he’d sent me to cut my own switches from the birch tree in our backyard. I wasn’t tall enough to reach the branches though, so he ended up grabbing me around the neck and holding me in the air until I’d cut the three switches he thought were best. Afterwards…” He paused and took a shaky breath. “There was half an apple in the bin that I’d been trying to snag before. He made me bite down on it so that I wouldn’t bother the neighbors with my fussing while he dealt with me. After the thrashing was over, I had to drop the apple back into the bin, and he increased my punishment to three days without meals.”
Dumbledore closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing down his burning desire to kill Tobias Snape. He didn’t want Severus thinking he was upset with him. “I am so sorry you had to live through that. Your father’s heinous treatment of you was utterly inexcusable, no matter what lies he may have told you to justify his cruelty. Only an ignorant fool wouldn’t treat you like the precious child that you are.”
“’m not a child,” Severus grumbled as a matter of principle, but his protests were belied when he buried his head deeper into his guardians’ chest.
Dumbledore chuckled and ruffled his hair, holding him close. “Ah, my mistake. Twelve years old is a young man, hmm?”
Severus cracked an impish grin. “Uh huh. Practically an adult. And adults can brew whatever potions they want, right?”
“Nice try, my boy,” Dumbledore smirked.
“It was worth a shot,” Severus defended with a small pout, although he wasn’t actually upset, having already known what his guardian’s response would be.
An amused smile crossed the headmaster’s face, then his expression sobered. “Listen, Severus, I don’t want you putting up silencing charms anymore, okay? I want to know if you’re having nightmares so that I can help you.”
Severus bit his lip hesitantly. “But won’t that disturb you?” He lowered his eyes as his guardian placed a hand on his forehead and brushed away the hair he was hiding behind.
“You need an adult who will take care of you, my boy,” Dumbledore said quietly, “and no matter how much you may protest otherwise, I intend to be that person. This means that I would like to be there for you after you’ve had a bad dream. So, no more silencing charms, please.”
Severus nodded reluctantly once he realized that his guardian wasn’t going to budge on the issue. He didn’t really understand why Dumbledore was practically insisting on being woken up whenever he had a loud nightmare, but maybe this was one of those ‘coddling parent things’ that Lily sometimes talked about. Adults rarely made sense, and his guardian had to be the most confusing adult that Severus had ever encountered, but he wasn’t going to complain if the man wanted to offer support, even if it wasn’t needed. He was twelve after all, not some baby. And when Dumbledore inevitably got tired of dealing with his pathetic nightmares, hopefully the wizard would simply tell him to put up silencing charms again instead of punishing him or dissolving the guardianship.
“Good boy. Let’s get you back under the covers now, and then perhaps a little reading to help you fall asleep,” Dumbledore proposed, pulling the warm comforter over him. “What story would you like me to read?”
Severus shrugged uncertainly. His mum had stopped reading to him the day he’d turned five. Tobias had growled that story time was for pansy boys, and that had been that. He and Lily had still continued reading her story books together in the park, but that was different since they were the same age. “You don’t need to read to me,” he said stiffly. “I’m much too old for that anyway.”
“Nonsense,” Dumbledore declared, ignoring his skeptical look. “There is no such thing as being too old for a story at bedtime!”
Severus quietly scoffed. Of course there was. He certainly didn’t see any other students at Hogwarts getting read to by their fathers. Not that Dumbledore was his father. Or ever would be, even if maybe he wanted… no, best to stop that thought right there. Because even though the man was turning out to be a much better guardian than any other adult he’d lived with, no one would ever want him as their son.
“Wipe that scowl off your face now,” Dumbledore chided, bopping him lightly on the nose. “I know just the thing that might pique your interest. It’s a series of seven novels known as the Chronicles of Narnia.” He flicked his hand, and a book flew from the shelf. “The first one is called The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.”
“If you insist,” Severus drawled with a put-upon sigh as he resigned himself to listening to the silly fantasy novel. He really was too old for this, but he would indulge his guardian if the man really wanted to read to him so badly.
“That’s my boy,” Dumbledore beamed, ignoring his reluctance. “Now just close your eyes and listen.”
Severus did as he was told, letting his guardian’s deep, soothing voice wash over him. He was rather exhausted after a long day and his nightmare, and there was something undeniably comforting about having his guardian next to him. He let out a small yawn as he listened to the story of the four children who were surely about to go on an adventure. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought to have an adult read to him like he was a small child. In fact, maybe this was something that he had been missing all along.
Two weeks had passed since the last day of Severus’ grounding. He had since moved back into the Slytherin dormitory with surprisingly few issues, much to his relief. It seemed that Slughorn had finally started taking his duties seriously, and aside from the occasional glares and snide remarks, his housemates appeared to have enough self-preservation to not risk the wrath of the headmaster and their head of house.
“Hey Sev, have you finished McGonagall’s essay yet?” Lily asked as she scribbled down the last inch of her charms assignment. Second year classes were finished for the day, so the two friends were spending the afternoon doing homework together in one of the student lounges.
Severus groaned and shook his head. “Erm, not exactly. But I should be done soon,” he mumbled, surreptitiously glancing at his open book as he wrote the final paragraph of his essay. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the transfiguration theory he was supposed to be analyzing, and the assignment was due the next day. Rationally, he knew that he should’ve asked for help over the weekend, but McGonagall had already spent an entire week teaching the concept in class, and he hadn’t wanted to seem like a dunderhead by admitting he still didn’t understand it.
“Here, do you want to swap? I’ll help with transfiguration, and you help with potions?” Lily suggested, reaching for his paper.
“Oh uh, that’s oka—” Severus trailed off, cringing as he saw the change in his best friend’s expression while she skimmed over his assignment.
“Severus,” Lily began slowly. “You didn’t write this, did you?”
The dark-haired boy propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. “I may have copied it from the supplemental transfiguration theory book we found in the library,” he admitted miserably. “I didn’t think it would be that obvious.”
“I mean, I probably only recognized it because we read this section together yesterday,” Lily offered unsurely. “But why did you copy from the book instead of writing your own?”
Severus took his essay back from her and let out a frustrated noise. “Because McGonagall already spent five classes on this topic, and you also tried to explain it to me, and I still don’t get it! Everyone else in our year understands it except for me. And don’t try to deny it,” he sighed as Lily started to protest otherwise. “Even Crabbe and Goyle got it,” he muttered bitterly.
Lily chewed on her lip. “I’m sorry, Sev. I could try and explain it again? There’s still time for you to rewrite it before it’s due.”
Severus shook his head. While he appreciated his best friend’s offer to help, if the professor’s multiple lectures, his own supplemental reading, and Lily’s original explanation hadn’t helped him, then it was doubtful that another explanation would cause any epiphanies. “No, that’s okay, but thank you. I’ll just turn it in with a few adjustments and pray to Merlin that McGonagall doesn’t notice. Can you even imagine how much trouble I’d be in if she knew I cheated on her assignment?” he joked nervously.
“I would say quite a lot.”
Both twelve-year-olds froze before apprehensively craning their necks around with no little amount of dread. Slughorn was standing behind them wearing an unimpressed look, his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.
“Uh, Professor,” Severus stammered, inwardly reciting every curse word he knew. “I was just kidding, I wasn’t—”
“Ms. Evans,” Slughorn interrupted flatly. “Return to your dormitory, please.”
“But sir,” Lily started to object. “Sev’s telling the tr—”
“Now, young lady. Or it’ll be twenty points from Gryffindor for lying to a professor and disobeying my instruction.”
Severus mouthed a silent ‘go,’ and with an apologetic look, Lily picked up her bookbag and trudged out of the room. At least he wouldn’t be dragging his best friend down with him since cheating was his own stupid decision.
“Mr. Snape.”
The second year Slytherin swallowed hard under his head of house’s undivided attention.
“We are going to visit the Deputy Headmistress. Gather your belongings and follow me,” Slughorn ordered.
Severus scrambled to his feet and nervously trailed after Slughorn. He was in so much trouble. He was probably going to be in detention until he graduated if his godmother had her way. His eyes scanned the corridor. Maybe… “Ow,” he yelped as a firm grip captured his ear.
“Do not even think about running from me, Mr. Snape,” Slughorn said sternly.
“I wasn’t,” Severus began, only to let out another yelp. Slughorn was tugging him forward now, and he had no choice but to follow if he wanted to keep his appendage attached.
As he was half-dragged through the corridors, Severus frantically tried to think of ways to avoid his godmother and guardian finding out about this. “Professor, can’t you punish me instead? You’re my head of house, not Professor McGonagall!”
Slughorn merely shook his head. “I received quite the tongue lashing from both the headmaster and deputy headmistress the last time I failed to bring an issue involving their ward to their attention. I have no wish to experience that a second time.”
“McGonagall’s not even my guardian. Only Dumbledore is,” Severus mumbled sulkily.
Slughorn half-snorted. “Trust me, your godmother is every bit the terrifying lioness protecting her precious cub when it comes to you. It doesn’t matter if she’s your guardian or not.”
Severus quietly groaned. This was not heading in the direction he wanted it to. “What about a deal then?” he tried desperately. “I’ll brew all of the potions Madam Pomfrey wants for the infirmary next term if you handle this and don’t tell Professor McGonagall!”
“Sorry, my boy, but I have no wish to lower my life expectancy by keeping a secret like this from her,” his head of house replied with a shudder. “Minerva McGonagall is not a woman to be trifled with, mark my words.”
Severus’ stomach plummeted as they reached the transfiguration classroom. He knew full well that his godmother wasn’t someone to mess with which is exactly why he wanted his head of house to deal with him instead! A quiet moan escaped him as Slughorn rapped sharply on the classroom door. He was utterly, completely screwed.
The door swung open a moment later, revealing the stern professor and a class of first years. “Professor Slughorn, Mr. Snape, how may I help you?” McGonagall asked, her eyes scanning Severus from head to toe as if looking for injuries.
“If I might have a word in private, Professor McGonagall?”
McGonagall nodded curtly and led the pair into her attached office. “Class, I will be back in a minute. Any fooling around will result in detention, so I highly suggest you focus on your task.” She closed the classroom door behind her and quirked a questioning eyebrow at her godson. “What’s this all about, then?”
Severus ducked his head, a pool of dread settling in his stomach as Slughorn cleared his throat and started to explain.
“I overheard your ward discussing his intention to cheat on the latest transfiguration assignment,” the head of Slytherin stated. “I believe his essay is copied from one of the supplementary library books and thought it best that you address the matter directly.”
The twelve-year-old gulped, positive that he could feel the heat of his godmother’s burning gaze on the back of his neck.
“Is that so?” McGonagall drawled.
“I’m afraid so,” Slughorn murmured. “There was also an attempt to bribe my silence in return for brewing assistance. I turned it down immediately, of course,” he added hastily at his colleague’s look.
A small sound of defeat slipped past Severus’ lips. He’d already been doomed, but that little tidbit had just sealed the last nail on his coffin. His godmother was going to absolutely kill him. At least he could count on Lily to say something nice at his funeral.
“Thank you, Professor Slughorn. I can take it from here,” McGonagall announced in a clipped voice.
Severus shuffled nervously, his head still bowed as he tracked the potions master’s footsteps out of the corner of his eye until he was all alone with his godmother. A cold hand grasped the underside of his chin and forced it upwards.
“I will deal with you after I finish teaching my class. For now, you will sit at the empty desk in the back of the classroom and write lines until the period is over,” McGonagall declared, taking a hold of his shoulders and giving him a slight push out of her office and into the classroom.
Severus hesitated as he eyed the empty desk, indecision evident in every line of his body as the class of first years openly stared at him, obviously wondering what he’d done to get in trouble. He really did not want to sit through the embarrassment of serving his detention in the same room as a bunch of baby firsties. “Professor, can’t I—”
“You will obey me now, Mr. Snape. Unless you wish to spend the remainder of the period in the corner instead?” McGonagall threatened in a low tone.
The twelve-year-old vigorously shook his head and reluctantly trudged to the back of the classroom, his cheeks a light pink as he sat at the specified desk. A moment later, a piece of parchment was levitated in front of him with the first line already written. I will not attempt to claim credit for work that is not my own because cheating is dishonest, disrespectful, and immoral. The professor’s side note said that she expected 150 lines to be completed by the end of the period.
Glancing around, Severus was relieved to see that the first years were no longer paying him any attention and were fully occupied with turning their snuff boxes into mice. A throat cleared pointedly from behind him, and he quickly picked up his quill and started to write. He definitely didn’t want to be publicly scolded by the professor in front of all the younger kids.
After multiple hand cramps and what felt like hours of writing, the bell finally rang. Severus dropped his quill with a silent groan, having just barely finished the last line in time. And to think, this was just the beginning of his punishment.
“For homework, read Chapter 10 and write a twelve-inch summary,” McGonagall instructed from behind her desk. “Hand it in on Wednesday. Class dismissed.” As the students filed out, she caught Severus’ eye and made a ‘come here’ motion with two fingers.
With a nervous gulp, Severus timidly shuffled to the front of the classroom, his eyes lowered as he stood in front of her. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he knew it wouldn’t be anything pleasant. Merlin, why was he so damn stupid? He couldn’t do anything right. He couldn’t figure out the transfiguration theory, and he couldn’t even cheat without getting caught. Some Slytherin he was.
“Did you finish your lines?” McGonagall asked brusquely.
He nodded, wordlessly handing the parchment over. The professor accepted it and quickly skimmed over it before nodding.
“Take a seat. Now then, would you care to explain why you tried to cheat on your assignment?”
It wasn’t a suggestion, and Severus knew it. “Erm, I didn’t have time to do the research for it?” he offered weakly.
“And what, pray tell, was so important that you deemed it worthy of prioritizing over my class?” McGonagall demanded, nostrils flaring. “You’ve had the entire weekend to write this essay.”
Severus stayed silent, offering no excuse. He had majorly screwed up once again, and he knew it. Blinking hard, he desperately fought back the pricking of tears. Stupid Severus. Always messing things up.
“I’m afraid you leave me with little choice, Mr. Snape,” McGonagall told him curtly. “Cheating is a serious academic offense. You will receive a zero on this essay and detention every Friday for the next month. I will not tolerate academic dishonesty in my class. Do I make myself clear?”
Severus swallowed hard, averting his eyes to his tightly clasped hands resting in his lap. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, trying his best to hide behind his hair.
“Oh, Severus. What am I going to do with you?” McGonagall sighed, watching as emotions roiled plain as day across the boy’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Severus said in a small, choked voice. “Please, I promise I won’t do it again. Are you going to tell the h-headmaster?”
“It is school policy to inform a guardian if their child is caught cheating. However, I will let Albus know that I am handling your punishment,” McGonagall answered. Her expression softened. “Why did you cheat, Severus? You know better than that.”
Severus’ expression crumbled and he quickly hid his face in his hands. “I… I couldn’t figure it out. I tried to understand the material, I swear, but I still didn’t understand it even after all the lectures and readings! I didn’t want you to hate me for being too stupid to write the essay,” he finished in an anguished tone. “I’m sorry, I really am. I just couldn’t understand it.”
“My dear child,” McGonagall exhaled, prying his hands from his face and forcing him to look at her. “You are my godson. I will never hate you, I promise. The assignment was on a complex topic, and just because you haven’t grasped it yet does not mean that you are stupid. I am, however, very disappointed that you decided to cheat instead of asking me for help.”
Her disappointment stung, and Severus couldn’t help the tears that welled in his eyes. Disappointing his godmother stung a lot more than if she’d just yelled at him and been angry. He should’ve known that McGonagall wouldn’t abandon him over something like not understanding a transfiguration concept. He’d messed up again big time just because of his stupid insecurities. “I’m sorry,” he repeated miserably, swiping angrily at the traitorous tears that had started falling.
“Come here, child,” McGonagall ordered with a hint of exasperation.
Severus hesitated for a second then tentatively shuffled around the desk. As soon as he was within his godmother’s reach, he was swept up in a warm, reassuring hug. Almost desperately, he clutched at her robes, holding on to what seemed to be his only lifeline at that moment.
“Listen to me carefully, Severus,” McGonagall said, pressing him close. “I will always care about you, no matter what. There is nothing you can say or do that will drive me away from you. You are stuck with me forever, whether you like it or not. Understood?”
Severus nodded into her neck, his tear-stained face buried in her robes, probably soaking it with snot and tears. But for once, he couldn’t bring himself to care. There was something safe and comforting about his godmother’s hug that made him never want to leave. It was like everything that was wrong in the world didn't matter anymore because he would be protected in her arms. Wrapped in her warm embrace, he closed his eyes, wondering if maybe this was what a mother’s love felt like.
“I’m glad you understand, Severus. Because you’re not going anywhere without me,” McGonagall whispered into his ear. She drew back and smiled softly at him. “In fact, I think we ought to work on breaking this habit of yours, calling me ‘professor’ all the time, even when we’re alone. I think ‘Aunt Minnie” has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”
Severus couldn’t reply through the lump in his throat, but his grip tightened distinctly on her robes, conveying what he couldn’t yet manage to say. And for now, that was enough.
Chapter Text
It was precisely half past three when McGonagall’s familiar knock announced her arrival outside of his bedroom. Grumbling disgruntledly, Severus set his potions journal down on the desk and slung his book satchel over his shoulder. He would much rather continue working on his research, but he knew from experience that skiving off from his ‘weekly check-in chat’ would only land him in trouble. Again.
“Good afternoon, Severus,” McGonagall greeted as he opened the door. “Albus is currently away, so I’ll be reviewing your assignments this week. Shall we move this to the family room?”
It was hardly a suggestion, evidenced as his godmother turned around and swept away, clearly expecting him to follow. Severus groaned but didn’t bother protesting, knowing that it would be a futile effort. Ever since Dumbledore had decided to take an active role in his guardianship, the man had insisted on looking over all of his graded assignments in order to keep track of his ward’s progress. Since the headmaster was often busy, Severus’ homework checks usually alternated between his guardian and godmother. In some ways, it was nice to have parental figures who cared enough to monitor his schoolwork. However, it was also exceedingly annoying to know that he’d be chastised if any of his assignments showed insufficient effort. Especially since this was one of those weeks where his schoolwork hadn’t exactly been his top priority.
“Hand over any essays or exams you’ve had this week, please,” McGonagall requested, holding out her hand expectantly.
Biting his lip, Severus dug out all of the week’s assignments except for History of Magic, which he kept hidden in the inner pocket of his bag. He had spent most of his free time with Lily that week, searching through the library for a cosmetic potion that would work on muggles. Lily was hoping that if she could find a way to allow Petunia to experience the benefits of magic, her sister might not hate her so much. Severus, having also experienced the older girl’s vitriol towards anything magical, had immediately offered to help with his best friend’s project. Unfortunately, that meant that he’d neglected to study for his History of Magic test, and the big red Troll on the top of his paper was a testament to that.
“Excellent job in potions, Professor Slughorn is quite impressed with you,” McGonagall praised as she finished reading through the comments his head of house had left on his paper.
“Thanks,” Severus murmured, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he watched his godmother move onto the next subject. He had received an O on the potion’s assignment and an E in charms, herbology, and astronomy, so those subjects wouldn’t be an issue. It was his grade on the transfiguration practical exam that he was worried about. He’d been dangerously close to failing that test, managing to scrape an Acceptable by just a single point. Neither Dumbledore nor McGonagall would be pleased with that, but hopefully his godmother would be so focused on his poor transfiguration performance that she’d forget about Binns’ exam.
A few tense minutes passed, then McGonagall placed the last paper down and nodded. “You seem to be doing very well in your classes, although your transfiguration spellcasting needs some work. We’ll go over what you struggled with on the exam, but I expect to see an improvement in your performance next week.”
You will,” Severus agreed quickly, letting out an inaudible sigh of relief. It seemed that luck was with him for once, and the professor hadn’t noticed his missing test! Taking out his wand, he silently vowed to put his best effort into his transfiguration spell work. His term grade really couldn’t afford any more failed assignments, especially after the zero he’d received on the last paper for cheating. He still had two detentions left to serve for that, and he’d had to rewrite the essay once he’d understood the material, both of which were additional motives to keep his guardian and godmother blissfully unaware of his history test grade. He didn’t particularly fancy spending an evening studying the goblin wars until his guardian was satisfied with his retention of the content.
“Why don’t we start with the wand movement for the ‘vera verto’ spell?” McGonagall proposed. “Show me what you’re doing, please.” She paused and watched him perform the spell before reaching out and adjusting the angle of his wrist. “Keep your wrist flexible. Don’t tighten up the muscles. Yes, that’s better now.”
The two worked on the spell for the next half hour until Severus was feeling more confident with the visualization and wand movement. “Finally!” he grinned triumphantly when his mouse turned into a flawless water goblet. This particular spell would almost certainly be on the end-of-term exam, so being able to successfully cast it was a big relief.
“A solid transfiguration, well done,” McGonagall acknowledged approvingly. “I need to use the restroom now, so let’s take a quick break, and we can continue in a few minutes.”
“Okay.” Severus stood up and stretched his arms over his head, wondering if Lily would be free that evening to continue working on the cosmetic salve for her sister. In Severus’ opinion, Petunia was a selfish and spiteful jerk, but Lily still cared about her, and maybe the older girl would change for the better if she felt like less of an outsider to the magical world.
“Severus?”
The twelve-year-old tilted his head in question as his godmother came back into the room.
“I just remembered, didn’t the second years have a history exam on Wednesday?” McGonagall inquired. “I don’t believe we reviewed it.”
Severus’ eyes widened in alarm. “Erm, uh right. I mean, yes,” he stammered.
McGonagall arched an eyebrow. “I’d like to see it, please,” she requested.
Severus’ left eye twitched. Damn it, why did his godmother have to have such a bloody good memory? “Erm, I must have left it in my dorm,” he laughed weakly. “Uh, let me just go get that.” He half-heartedly gestured towards the door with his thumb before turning on his heel and bolting for the door.
“Severus, wait, I can just summon—”
But he was already running as fast as he could towards the Ravenclaw dormitory. One of his classmates owed him a favor, and he was about to call it in. All Severus needed to do was borrow his peer’s exam paper and then charm the name on it so that it looked like he himself had gotten full marks. And it wouldn’t technically be cheating because it wasn’t like he was getting academic credit for someone else’s work. He was just telling a little white lie to his godmother in order to avoid another lecture and detention. No one could blame him for having a little self-preservation!
“Severus Tobias Snape,” McGonagall’s voice hollered from a few corridors away. “You have a lot of explaining to do if the Troll mark on the crumpled-up piece of parchment in your bag is what I think it is!”
Severus shuddered and ran faster. Well, there went that plan. He would just have to hide somewhere in the castle until he came of age. Who needed a Hogwarts education anyway? Dashing behind a suit of armor, he held his breath as his godmother thundered past him, her expression filled with displeasure. As soon as her footsteps faded into nothing, the twelve-year-old emerged from his hiding place and ran in the opposite direction, hoping to make it to the Room of Requirement to strategize. Rounding a corner, he slammed into something warm and solid, landing hard on his backside. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, peeling himself off the ground.
He heard a bird-like squawk, and then a familiar voice said, “Oh, dear. I didn't mean to be in your way, my boy.”
Severus groaned and looked up to see his guardian standing over him with Fawkes on his shoulder. The phoenix tilted his head and chirped, giving him a rather amused look. The damn bird was probably laughing at him.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Dumbledore inquired, holding out a hand to help him to his feet.
“Erm… I’m late for a meeting with someone,” Severus lied, plastering on his best sheepish smile.
Dumbledore eyed him skeptically. “Is that so?”
“Yes, sir,” Severus nodded quickly, glancing over his shoulder. McGonagall might be coming any second now. “In fact, I should really get going. Don’t want to be even later. Bye now!”
“Just a second,” Dumbledore stopped him, holding up his hand. “You're hiding something from me, young man,” he admonished knowingly.
“Sir?” Severus asked with faked innocence.
“If I recall correctly, you should still be reviewing your homework with your godmother,” Dumbledore mused. “Perhaps I should ask Minerva why she decided to dismiss you so early?”
“No!” Severus shouted reflexively. Damn it, he hadn’t counted on his guardian knowing his schedule so well. A quick glance at the man’s expression, and he hastily backtracked. “Erm, I mean, I’m sure that’s not necessary, sir.”
“Watch your tone,” Dumbledore scolded. “And I believe it is—” He cut off as a patronus bounded down the hall and stopped in front of him.
“Albus, Severus ran away from me while we were reviewing his homework. If you find him, please bring him to the family room. We need to have a discussion,” came McGonagall’s voice from the silvery cat.
Severus winced and quickly turned around, ready to flee, when a firm hand grasped his elbow.
“Not so fast, my boy.” Dumbledore turned him around and raised an eyebrow. “Late for a meeting, hmm? Let’s return to our quarters, young man.”
Severus pouted at the ground and rocked on his heels, looking very much like a scolded child. “Do we have to?”
“Yes, we do. Come now.” He placed his hands on Severus’ shoulders and started steering him towards their rooms.
Much sooner than he’d have liked, the twelve-year-old found himself being shuffled through the front door of their quarters. As the door closed behind them, Severus watched curiously as his guardian subtly slipped a simple black book from his robe pocket and locked it in a drawer, protected by what appeared to be very advanced rune wards. He thought he might have glimpsed the initials TMR on the front, but before he could open his mouth to ask, his godmother had grabbed him by the ear and was dragging him away.
“I’m coming,” he yelped as he was marched into the family room.
“Sit down,” McGonagall snapped, releasing him.
Severus froze and promptly sat. Every student in Hogwarts knew not to disobey when the transfiguration professor used that tone.
“Now, would you care to explain this Troll of your history exam?” his godmother asked, tapping her foot and placing the now uncrumpled parchment in front of him.
The twelve-year-old winced and averted his eyes. There was no hiding the big red T circled on the page. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“Severus, I know we’ve discussed your lack of effort in this class before,” Dumbledore commented, a deep frown on his face. “What happened?”
Severus ducked his head. “I didn’t study enough,” he admitted quietly.
“You neglected to study in favor of a potions side project, I presume?” McGonagall asked, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Severus shrugged wordlessly. He didn’t have any valid excuse for failing his test. He knew that he should have spent more time studying, but he’d gotten caught up in researching, and the goblin wars were so boring, especially the way Binns taught the class. But he didn’t like disappointing his guardian and godmother, and he knew that history was important, even if he didn’t like the class.
“This is the second time you’ve failed an exam because you didn’t leave yourself enough time to study. If this happens again, I will have no choice but to pull you from extracurricular brewing until you’ve shown that you’re mature enough to manage your time responsibly. Do you understand?” Dumbledore warned.
Severus swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
“You will also be spending your Friday evening studying the material you neglected to review before. I will prepare an exam similar to the one Professor Binns administered, and you will take it Saturday morning. If you fail to earn an O, you will spend your Saturday afternoon studying and then retake the test in the evening,” McGonagall stated. “You are only being tested on one chapter, so there is no reason why you shouldn’t have mastered the content by the end of the weekend.”
Severus bit back a groan at the unofficial detention, and possibly multiple of them if he didn’t get top marks on the revised exam. That was one of the worst things about having two professors as his caregivers. He didn’t fail assignments very frequently, but when he did, he always had to redo his work until it met O criteria. It wasn’t like he even got credit for the revised homework, but his guardian always went on about the ‘importance of learning the material anyway’ and all of that.
“Do you understand, Severus?” McGonagall prompted.
“Yes, Professor,” he replied dutifully, biting his lip when his godmother gave him a lightly scolding look. Had he done something else wrong?
“Professor?” McGonagall echoed with a gentle smile. “I believe we’re alone now, aren’t we?”
Severus stared blankly at her. What on earth did that have to do with anything?
“We agreed to try and drop the formalities when there aren’t any other students around, yes?” McGonagall hinted.
The twelve-year-old hesitated, their conversation from earlier coming back to him. They were in private now, which meant he was supposed to call her… “Aunt Minnie?” he tried tentatively.
“Much better,” McGonagall confirmed warmly, giving his hair a quick tousle and wrapping an arm around him.
Severus shyly leaned into her side, reassured by the positive response. She was the first adult other than his mum who he hadn’t been too scared to address by a title other than sir, ma’am, or professor. And while he would undoubtedly revert back to old habits if she got upset with him, it felt nice to call her by a familial title.
“My word, Minerva lets you call her Minnie?” Dumbledore mock-gasped. “I’m jealous, my dear boy. You clearly have a very special place in her heart. The last time someone tried to call her that, they spent a day in the hospital wing being un-hexed!” he joked, shoving down the slight hurt that Severus wasn’t calling him Albus yet. This was about the child’s comfort level, not his own ego.
“Well, of course he has special privileges,” McGonagall sniffed playfully. “Severus is my godson, unlike that other entitled blighter.”
A warm sensation bloomed inside of Severus upon hearing that his godmother’s nickname was reserved for his use only, making him feel distinct in a good way, for once. Then, the rest of what Dumbledore had said hit him. “Wait, you landed someone in the hospital wing?” he exclaimed. “What happened?”
McGonagall flushed slightly. “Nothing you need to concern yourself over, Severus. I may have lost my temper in my youth once or twice, but I learned to control myself and curb my more impulsive instincts.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “Of course, although I do remember a certain Head Girl transfiguring an unfortunate Mr. Doge into a ferret after he made the poor judgment to address his classmate as ‘Minnie.’ It was quite a bit of impressive transfiguration at that age, one of the many reasons why I offered your godmother an apprenticeship.”
Severus’ eyes widened comically as he gaped at his godmother in amazement. His stern, no-nonsense professor had been a troublemaker? Lily was never going to believe this when he told her!
“Really Albus,” McGonagall returned primly, her cheeks a light pink. “You’re setting a bad example for the boy. There’s no need to share such stories.”
“There’s more than one?” Severus blurted out, unable to stop himself.
“Oh yes,” Dumbledore confirmed enthusiastically. “That was certainly not the first time your godmother ah, shall we say, lost control of her temper. I remember one time when Minerva was just about your age…”
An hour of Dumbledore’s narration and a very red-faced Minerva McGonagall later, and Severus was giggling hysterically. His guardian was an excellent storyteller, and his godmother’s indignant yet good-natured retorts and excuses made it even better. With an amused grin, he snuggled deeper into the couch, eagerly awaiting the next story. They weren’t the stereotypical picture of a mum, dad, and child by any means, but maybe the possibility of finding a family wasn’t so impossible after all.
Chapter Text
December had arrived, and with it came the beginning of the studying frenzy for end-of-term exams. The OWL and NEWT students were especially stressed, and Severus had been snapped at more than once for ‘reading too noisily’ in the library. Thus, he had started taking refuge in the Room of Requirement, preferring to avoid the testy older students and his Slytherin housemates. Lily and her mates had also noticed the fifth- and seventh-years’ irritable moods, which had somehow led to two more Gryffindors joining their little study group. Severus still had no idea how his best friend had managed to convince him to agree to that, but his grudging respect for her manipulation skills had curbed the worst of his protests. He’d only complained about it twice, a rather impressive feat if you asked him.
But back to the matter at hand, there were now four of them who regularly met to study together in the Room of Requirement. In addition to himself and Lily, there was Alice Fortescue, one of Lily’s dorm mates who excelled at herbology, and most surprisingly, Remus Lupin who was one of the top students in DADA. At first, Severus had been adamant about not allowing a marauder to join them, but he’d reluctantly relented after learning that the Gryffindor had been distancing himself from Black and Potter. It seemed that Lupin had finally stopped passively following his dorm mates, and while they were still friends, the brown-haired boy now spent most of his time with Frank Longbottom and Ravenclaw Kingsley Shacklebolt. That didn’t mean that he and Lupin were friends by any means, but they had an amicable truce and worked well together as study partners.
In fact, their study group would have been meeting that very afternoon, if the idiot ministry DADA professor hadn’t planned an ‘extended lesson’ for the second years. The dunderhead wizard had decided that it would be fun to send the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff class on a scavenger hunt around the castle looking for Merlin knows what, and it was apparently designed to take the entire afternoon. The Slytherin/Ravenclaw class would have the dubious pleasure of participating in the same activity the following day.
Rolling his eyes, Severus shoved his finished transfiguration essay into his bag and started towards the dungeons. He was getting close to figuring out the last of the modifications he wanted to try on the Wolfsbane Potion, but he needed to test a few reactions in the lab before finalizing his experiment. Slughorn was supervising a practice brewing session until dinner time, so it was the perfect opportunity to try a few isolated steps without being suspicious or breaking any rules. The final experiment would have to be done after curfew since none of the adults would approve, given the volatility of the potion. But he would figure that out later.
Coming to a familiar tapestry at the end of a hallway, Severus ducked behind it and opened the door, entering a lesser known passage that led to the potions lab. Few students frequented this corridor, so he was more than surprised when an urgent voice shouted his name.
“Snape, thank Merlin you’re here! Come quick, it’s an emergency!”
Severus stiffened, a sneer crossing his face as he locked eyes with Sirius Black. “Leave me alone,” he hissed, turning around to go the other way.
“Wait,” Black panted, his eyes wide with panic. “It’s Evans! She’s trapped in one of the scavenger hunt rooms. No one can get her out!”
Severus paled instantly. Lily was in trouble? “Where is she? Did someone get the professor?” he asked frantically.
Black nodded shakily. “Fortescue ran for help, but she might not make it in time. Evans was the first one in the room, and it sealed before anyone else could enter. Then all we heard was banging and screaming.”
“Shite!” Severus cursed, fear coursing through him at what his best friend might be facing. He would see the incompetent ministry professor fired if it was the last thing he did! “Take me to her. Now,” he yelled when the Gryffindor just stood there stupidly.
Black nodded jerkily and took off down the hallway, Severus hot on his heels. They reached a closed door half a minute later, where distinct sounds of rattling and thumping could be heard from within.
“Lily? Are you okay? Lily?!” Severus shouted desperately, banging on the door. Overcome with panic, he didn’t notice the lack of worried classmates or the malicious glint in the other boy’s eye until he heard a low chuckle.
“Ease up, Snape. Evans is fine. But maybe this’ll teach you to stop trying to break up the marauders,” Black spat. “Stay away from Remus, you hear me?”
Severus stopped short, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What are you—” He yelped as the door suddenly opened and he was forcefully shoved inside.
“Have fun, Snivellous .”
Stumbling into the room, the door slammed shut and locked before Severus even had a chance to catch his balance. Flabbergasted, the dark-haired boy swore in realization as he heard the retreating sound of Black’s cruel, amused laughter. “Fuck!” he shouted, kicking the wall. This whole thing had been a setup, and he had fallen for it. Like a bloody, foolish idiot.
Letting out a frustrated groan, he slid to the floor and leaned his head against the wall. A quick glance around told him that he was stuck in a storage closet filled with dusty old books and a small cabinet in the corner. At least Black had been careless enough to leave the lights on.
THUD .
Severus’ head snapped up as something rattled and banged from inside the closed cabinet. He had thought that those sounds had been Lily when he’d heard them before, but clearly it had been something else. His heart thumping frantically against his rib cage, he clambered into a defensive position, his wand pointed directly at the swaying cabinet. “Show yourself!” he demanded, trying to hide the quaver in his voice.
The latch on the lock clicked, and the door slowly swung open.
“There you are, you worthless brat . You didn’t think you’d be able to avoid me forever after snitching on me, did ya?”
Severus froze, every muscle in his body paralyzed as the towering form of a burly man stepped out. No. It couldn’t be .
“Nothin’ to say, eh boy?” the figure growled, taking a menacing step forward.
“Y-You,” Severus stuttered fearfully, cowering before the enraged man. “Y-You’re s-supposed to b-be in p-prison!”
Tobias Snape snarled. “Aye, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, boy? The coppers told me how you tried to sell your old man out, claiming ‘abuse’. Too bad for you, the charges didn’t stick.”
Severus started trembling as his father smiled cruelly and unbuckled his belt in an all too familiar motion. His father was somehow free. He hadn’t been found guilty and sentenced to prison.
“Against the wall, boy,” Tobias spat. “I’ve been waiting a long time to teach you a lesson about proper respect, and now that those freaks have sent you back to me, we have all the time in the world.”
Severus gasped as his neck was grabbed with bruising force, and he was thrown against the wall. “S-Sent back?” he managed to choke out. No, they wouldn’t! Dumbledore and McGonagall had promised that he would never be sent back to his father no matter what!
“You’re a stupid, troublesome, freak,” Tobias whispered in his ear, his hot breath filled with the stench of alcohol. “You actually thought those two freaks cared about you? They never wanted to be saddled with a burden, and that’s all you are.”
“No, I’m not!” Severus protested weakly. “They said I’m not. They care about me! They do, even after everything I’ve done wrong.”
Tobias laughed cruelly. “Don’t tell me you were stupid enough to believe that your freaky headmaster and pretend godmother actually wanted to keep you. They sent you back to me, boy. Told me they were tired of dealing with you. I’ve withdrawn you from Hogwarts, and you’ll be living with me, learning your proper place.”
With every sentence, Severus felt as if a jagged piece of glass was stabbing him in the heart, destroying every shred of hope that he’d ever had. “No, they promised,” he whimpered, a pang of despair jolting through his body.
“They promised,” Tobias mocked in a high-pitched voice. “You’re weak and disgusting, boy. Now hold that position, hands against the wall. Move, and it’ll be double the lashing you’ve already earned yourself.”
There was the whoosh of air being displaced, and the next moment, Severus felt the familiar burn of the belt strike his backside and legs. “No, please!” he begged. But this was really happening. The pain didn’t lie. This wasn’t a dream.
“That freakish old man told me you were starting to act as if you were his son,” Tobias sneered, not relenting in the slightest. “Absolutely pathetic. I knew I’d made a mistake, raising you soft, but now’s my chance to correct that. It’s a good thing Dumbledore never wanted you in the first place, nor that McGonagall woman who only pretended to be your godmother out of misplaced loyalty to your mother. She’s glad the old man returned you.”
Severus sobbed as every fear and insecurity he’d held since the guardianship change was bluntly revealed to be true. He’d known that it had been stupid of him to trust that Dumbledore and McGonagall had actually cared for him, but he’d been so desperate for affection that he’d believed their false promises to keep him unconditionally. He had obviously messed up though, like always, and now he’d been returned to his father. It was his own fault for not being good enough for anyone to want. He was a freak. A waste of space. A burden on everyone who met him.
Lost in his agonized sobs and the pain of the belt, he didn’t notice that someone else had entered the room until he was roughly shoved to the side.
“Leave him alone!”
Severus blinked in stunned bewilderment as Remus Lupin threw himself in front of his father, shielding him from the man’s belt. “No,” he croaked, weakly stumbling forward in an attempt to prevent his classmate from being hurt. This was his punishment for being a stupid freak. No one else deserved to suffer Tobias’ wrath, and certainly not for a worthless cause like himself.
But to his surprised relief, the leather strap never hit the other boy. Instead, Tobias disappeared in a swirl of movement and was replaced by a shining, silvery-white orb. What in Merlin’s name? Had he passed out and was now hallucinating?
“Riddikulus!”
Severus stood numbly as the silver orb spasmed before turning into a black blur and flying back into the cabinet. “W-What? H-How? But—” he stammered nonsensically.
“Snape, you need to go to the hospital wing,” Lupin interrupted, eying him with concern. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe Sirius would do something like this just because he’s jealous that you got a new guardian and he didn’t,” he finished angrily.
Severus stared unseeingly, his mind still catching up to the present. A boggart. It had been a boggart. It hadn’t been real. None of it had been real.
“Snape? Do you want me to help you to the hospital wing?” a voice echoed in the background.
Severus let out a choked sob and ran from the room without a word. He needed to be alone. Somewhere no one would look right away, not even Lily. His vision obscured by tears, he stumbled blindly to the astronomy tower, somehow avoiding running into anyone. Once there, he locked the door with every charm he knew before throwing himself into a corner. With his back pressed against the stone wall, he sank to the floor and buried his head in folded arms, helplessly surrendering to his tears.
The boggart had felt so real. And he had believed it. Because everything that boggart-Tobias had said could come true—and likely would come true someday. Because how could Dumbledore or McGonagall want a worthless little burden who couldn’t even fight off a simple boggart? He wouldn’t even blame them if they broke their promise. He was so stupid and pathetic, crying like a baby at the dumbest little things.
Subconsciously, his hands curled into fists, self-loathing overwhelming him. He knew that his two caregivers cared for him—they’d proven that with their actions. But everyone had a breaking point. And the boggart had shown him exactly what it would be like if his worst fear came true and they eventually reached theirs.
Trapped in a storm of anguish, he didn’t notice as his fists were gently pried open and two ice cubes were slipped into his hands. It was only when a cold sensation seeped into his body that he was pulled back to the present. His eyelids fluttered as the icy temperature grounded him, calming his racing heart. Blinking dazedly, Severus saw that his nails had dug into his skin, leaving thin traces of blood on his palms. Huh. He hadn’t even noticed the pain until he’d felt the ice cubes.
Wait… ice cubes? Where had the ice cubes come from? Raising his head, watery, onyx eyes met sorrowful blue.
“My poor child,” Dumbledore murmured, slowly reaching out and brushing away the tears from his cheeks.
Severus started to protest as he was picked up and cradled like a baby, but he quickly relented and buried his head in the crook of his guardian’s neck. He just wanted comfort after everything that had happened, and if Dumbledore was offering it, even with Severus’ snot-covered face, then he would take it. “I’m sorry. I’m so pathetically weak,” he mumbled.
“You are not weak, my dear boy. A boggart takes the form of one’s greatest fear. Even grown witches and wizards find them difficult to conquer, least of all a child who has lived through a life such as yours,” Dumbledore whispered, gently rubbing his back. “Let’s get you to the hospital wing so Madam Pomfrey can take care of your injuries, okay?”
Severus nodded, then burrowed closer to his guardian’s chest. “How did you find me?” he asked quietly.
“Mr. Lupin found your godmother and said that you were attacked by a boggart in the dungeon storage closet, but that you ran off before he could take you to the hospital wing,” Dumbledore explained. “The portraits led me to you from there.”
“Did… Did he tell you what mine turned into?”
Dumbledore’s step faltered slightly. “Mr. Lupin said the boggart took the form of a large man who was hurting you. I don’t believe he realized it was your father,” he replied softly.
Severus bit his lip. He was glad that Lupin hadn’t made the connection, although he would probably figure it out eventually. But maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if the other boy knew his secret. Lupin had defended him against Tobias, after all.
“My word, what happened?” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, hurrying over when she saw the two of them enter the infirmary.
“An encounter with a particularly violent boggart,” Dumbledore replied gravely.
Severus ducked his head as she tsked sympathetically and started bustling around him, methodically applying salves and bandages to his injuries. He was still embarrassed that he hadn’t realized he’d been facing a boggart. He should’ve known better than to believe that Tobias would ever set foot in a magical castle. And it was all bloody Sirius Black’s fault! The git had purposefully tricked him and then locked him in a room with a creature that made one’s worst fear come true. Even some of the Slytherins wouldn’t be that cruel, and they hated his guts for being a traitor to the Dark Lord.
As Madam Pomfrey finished wrapping a bandage around his leg, Severus pulled his pillow over his face in a futile attempt to disappear. He wanted to believe that Black would be punished for bullying him, but the boggart had dredged up old insecurities, and now he wasn’t feeling so sure anymore. It was McGonagall’s job to take care of her lions, and his guardian had always favored Gryffindor in the past. Sure, things had been different recently, but what if his boggart had been right, and his two caregivers had decided that he wasn’t worth it any longer? Sirius Black was a Light-oriented Gryffindor after all, and Severus was just a poor, troublesome Slytherin who liked the dangerous Dark Arts.
His chest tightened at the thought of losing his guardian and godmother to his nemesis. What if something had changed and they weren’t going to listen to his side of the story anymore? What if they didn’t believe him? Panicking, he shoved the pillow away, his breaths becoming shallow.
“Severus? What’s wrong, child?”
“It was Black who locked me in the closet with the boggart,” he blurted out, turning pleading eyes to his guardian. “You’re going to punish him, right?” Dumbledore hesitated, and Severus’ stomach plummeted. He’d already lost. He could tell. His guardian didn’t believe him.
“Mr. Lupin did tell your godmother that it was Mr. Black who trapped you with the boggart,” Dumbledore confirmed with a nod.
“So… So you’re going to punish him, right?” Severus repeated, holding back his tears. He already knew the answer, but he had to hear it for himself anyway. To know that this wonderful dream was over, and everything would go back to the way it was before when no one cared about him.
“Your godmother listened to Mr. Black’s side of the story, and I believe—” The headmaster ducked as an empty potion vial suddenly flew at him, just narrowly missing his head.
“I knew it! I hate you! You’re a liar!” Severus screamed, blinded by an onslaught of anguish. “The boggart was right. You never really cared about me, did you? All you’ve ever cared about is your precious golden Gryffindors.” Hot, betrayed tears streamed down his cheeks, the world narrowing to nothing but anger and broken pain. He hurled insults and everything he could get his hands on at his guardian. And Dumbledore just let him, not saying a word.
But he was there in a flash the moment Severus started trying to tear his bandages off. “Stop, child. I won’t let you make your injuries worse.”
Severus let out an angry cry as his wrists were captured and crossed in front of him. He lashed out furiously, but Dumbledore kept him easily restrained, keeping him from hurting himself. It could have been seconds or minutes, he wasn’t sure, but eventually his struggles weakened, and his accusations and tears subsided to nothing but tearful sniffles.
“As I was saying before,” Dumbledore continued softly, “I believe Professor McGonagall determined that Mr. Black was lying since his story contradicted Mr. Lupin’s. I am not sure of Mr. Black’s exact punishment, but I assure you, he will face consequences for this cruel trick.”
“Oh,” Severus croaked. He’d been wrong. And he’d thrown a childish tantrum over something that wasn’t even true. “I-I’m sorry! I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he murmured miserably.
“Nothing is wrong with you, my boy,” Dumbledore said comfortingly as he shifted the child from his lap back onto the bed. “You’ve just been through a very traumatic experience, so it’s only natural that you’re feeling a little out of control. But I want you to know that whatever that boggart told you was nothing but lies. Minerva and I care for you very much, and nothing is going to change that. Understand?”
Severus sniffled a bit. “Okay.”
“That’s my boy,” Dumbledore said, patting him on the back. “Now, I think dinner and then a solid night’s sleep would do you some good.” The headmaster snapped his fingers, and a plate of owl-shaped chicken nuggets and carrots appeared on a tray along with a glass of pumpkin juice. The child had gained some much-needed weight in the past few months, but he was still quite skinny and couldn’t afford to be skipping meals. “I need to have a quick word with Madam Pomfrey, but please start eating, and I’ll be back soon.”
As his guardian disappeared into the mediwitch’s office, Severus instinctively found himself pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. His father’s presence had seemed so real when he’d been locked in that closet. He had felt so helpless, so weak in front of the man who had hurt him and belittled him for his entire life. It had been even harder to face Tobias than before, because the truth was that he had come to rely on Dumbledore for guidance and protection, and he couldn’t imagine no longer having that. He needed his guardian—a realization that terrified him. Because guardianships didn’t last forever, and once he came of age, or maybe even sooner, he would be all alone again. The only way it could become permanent… no, that was stupid. Dumbledore would never even consider adopting him. If his biological parents hadn’t wanted him as their son, then why would anyone else?
He heard footsteps crossing the room, then a weight settled on the side of the bed. A hand touched his shoulder.
“Would you rather have something else to eat?” his guardian asked gently, noticing that his plate hadn’t been touched.
Severus shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”
“Try to eat just a few bites,” Dumbledore coaxed.
“I said, I’m not hungry!” Severus practically yelled, although the effect was ruined when his voice cracked at the end. Tears began to roll over his eyelashes and down his cheeks once again. Dumbledore sighed sadly and scooted closer, pulling him onto his lap. Severus clutched at his guardian’s robes, desperate for the feeling of safety that being held in his caregivers’ arms always gave him. “’m sorry. Please don’t send me away,” he whispered plaintively.
“No one is being sent away, child. You’re stuck with me, remember?”
He could hear Dumbledore whispering gentle comforts into his ear, the calm, steady heartbeat thumping next to his own. A vial was placed at his lips, and he obediently swallowed, recognizing the taste of a nutrient potion followed by a sleeping draught. The last thing Severus heard before his eyes fluttered closed was the deep, comforting voice of his guardian.
“Everything’s going to be okay, my boy. I promise.”
Chapter Text
Sessions with Healer Smythe—or Jacob as Severus now called him—were never easy. Their chats happened twice a month without exception, and sometimes more if something unexpected came up, like the boggart incident. When he’d woken up from his meltdown, Dumbledore had insisted that he speak with his mind healer for an extra session. While reluctant at first, Severus had to admit that it’d been helpful to work through the insecurities that seeing Tobias had triggered.
The worst of the twelve-year-old’s anxiety had abated by the time of his appointment, but less so the lingering doubts and insecurities. It had been validating to hear that Black had been given multiple detentions for his so-called prank, and that his fear that the headmaster might resume his Gryffindor favoritism had been for nothing. After much coaxing from Jacob, Severus had also admitted that he was still scared Dumbledore and McGonagall would someday abandon him. A guardianship and an honorary godmother status could easily be dissolved, and while they hadn’t sent him away yet, even after breaking practically every rule in existence, there was nothing to guarantee that it wouldn’t happen eventually. The healer had said that it was understandable that he felt that way since he’d never been able to trust his mum or father. Trust took a long time to build, and it was expected that it would be awhile before Severus felt comfortable fully trusting adults.
That discussion had happened a couple of weeks ago, and things had resumed to the way they were before the boggart incident for the most part. Dumbledore and McGonagall were still coddling him a little bit, but the embarrassing daily check-ins had thankfully been reduced to biweekly check-ins. Severus had appreciated their efforts to reassure him, but there was only so much smothering a twelve-year-old boy could take. Tonight was the first night after the boggart incident that he’d been allowed to return to his dormitory, so naturally, he’d taken the opportunity to slip his minders and sneak off to the potions lab.
“Lily? Is that you?” Severus whispered as he heard a muffled shuffle coming from inside the lab. He cautiously pushed open the door, his brow furrowing when he was met with darkness.
“I’m right behind you, Sev,” a familiar female voice said.
Severus turned around, a surprised look crossing his features. “Oh, hi Lily. That’s weird. I thought I heard someone inside the lab already.”
Lily frowned and moved past him into the classroom. A muttered spell later, and the torches on the wall burst into flames, dimly illuminating the room. “I don’t see anyone,” she hummed after scanning the room.
“Huh, I must’ve imagined it. Or maybe it was a dungeon rat or something,” Severus shrugged.
Lily pulled a face. “Ew, gross. That’s disgusting!”
“What’s wrong, you don’t like rats?” Severus grinned, imitating their squeaking sounds and running his fingers in a scuttling motion along her arms.
Lily squealed and shoved him away. “You prat,” she scowled lightly.
“Takes one to know one,” Severus teased. He didn’t wait for her outraged gasp before striding to the nearest lab table. “C’mon, let’s get started. We don’t want to get caught by the prefects.”
The Gryffindor rolled her eyes but nodded, the two of them easily falling into their well-practiced routine of one of them collecting ingredients while the other prepared them.
“Did you tell Remus that we’re working on improving the Wolfsbane?” Lily asked as she carefully diced the aconite.
Severus shook his head. “No, I haven’t told him that I know about his condition yet. And I didn’t want him to be disappointed in case it doesn’t turn out as it’s supposed to.” He still couldn’t believe that his classmate had been hiding such an enormous secret all this time. The Slytherin had finally put all of the clues together after realizing that the silvery orb the boy’s boggart had turned into was actually the moon. It hadn’t been a far reach from there, what with Lupin getting sick every month and turning up to their study sessions with a few stray scratches afterward the full moon. He had quietly brought up his suspicions to Lily, only for her to admit that she’d already figured it out back in their first year.
“That makes sense. I really hope it works, though,” Lily murmured, biting her lip. “Having the current Wolfsbane Potion is definitely an improvement from Remus’ situation last year, but it’s still less than ideal.”
Severus raised an eyebrow. “Last year’s situation?”
Lily nodded. “Dumbledore wasn’t able to acquire the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus during our first year, so he’d always be in a pretty bad state after spending the full moon locked inside the Shrieking Shack by himself. I think that’s why he initially bonded with Potter and Black, even though they’re bullies. They figured it out and accepted him without judgment.”
Severus hummed as he counted out ten counterclockwise stirs. The Wolfsbane Potion was hard to come by given the cost of the ingredients and the skill needed to brew it. If Lupin had been forced to lose his sanity to the wolf every month for years, then he could understand the boy’s desperate desire for friends who accepted him, despite his condition. Maybe Lupin had also been practically friendless growing up and had therefore jumped at the offer of joining the marauders, even if that meant being a bystander to bullying. It didn’t excuse his previous complicity of course, but it did make it more understandable.
“I assume Dumbledore made them swear to not tell anyone?” he asked, knowing that just one of them spilling Lupin’s secret would mean the boy’s expulsion at the very least.
“Actually, no,” Lily countered softly. “When I talked to Remus about it, he said that they each voluntarily swore a vow to never tell anyone his secret.”
Severus’ head whipped around to stare at his friend. “They voluntarily swore a magical vow?” he gasped. That would never happen in Slytherin. His fellow snakes would rather serve a month of detention than freely give up blackmail material like that.
Lily shrugged. “Potter and Black are bullies no doubt, although Potter mostly just follows Black’s lead. But you can’t deny that they’re loyal to each other.”
“Yeah,” Severus trailed off, a hint of awe in his tone. It was no small feat to swear a magical vow, and to voluntarily make one was almost unheard of. It was actually illegal for anyone to be forced to make a magical vow since breaking one, even accidentally, would result in losing one’s magic. He still despised the two marauders with a passion, but he couldn’t deny that their actions to protect their friend were admirable.
“Anyway, I’ve finished prepping the aconite and the giant moonwart,” Lily said, changing the subject and pushing the ingredients across the table in his direction. “Should we start adding the moonwart to the cauldron?”
Severus’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Wait, you already finished dicing both of them? I’m only halfway done with the myrrh!”
Lily giggled. “Oooh, is that jealousy I’m hearing from our resident potions prodigy?”
Severus’ cheeks turned pink. “No,” he exclaimed as he shook his head wildly. “I was just surprised that you finished so quickly. That’s all.”
“Whatever you say, boomslang boy,” Lily smirked, neatly dodging his indignant poke at the nickname. “I’ll wait for you to finish before adding anything.”
“I’ll be done in just a minute,” Severus insisted, turning his full attention to chopping the myrrh into thin pieces.
“Okay,” Lily said simply, leaning over to rest her elbows on the lab table. “By the way, how’d you manage to convince Slughorn to remove the after-curfew wards on this lab? I know you said that Dumbledore made him apply them after your last potions adventure.” She paused and tilted her head. “I’m honestly shocked that Slughorn didn’t think this experiment was volatile enough to need supervision. Even if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have risked Dumbledore and McGonagall’s wrath by removing the wards if he thought it was too dangerous.”
Severus shifted guiltily. “Well, erm… about that,” he started.
Lily eyed him dangerously. “Go on.”
“I may have uh,” he took a deep breath, “blackmailedaseventhyearRavenclawtoremovethem instead of asking Slughorn,” he admitted as fast as he could.
“You did WHAT now?!” Lily put her hands on her hips and fixed him with her infamous glare, causing him to swallow nervously. “Severus Tobias Snape. Do you mean to tell me that we’re brewing this experimental potion alone without Slughorn’s under-the-table approval?” she hissed. “And I know how hypocritical that sounds, but you know what I mean.”
“It was the only way!” Severus protested stubbornly. “You researched the potential side effects of this potion with me. The potion is volatile and dangerous even at this stage, but one wrong move after we add the aconite and the entire cauldron explodes. There’s no way the professors would ever let us brew it.”
“I know, you’re right. And I do want to brew it with you, but—” Lily hesitated, chewing her lip. “I… I think that maybe we didn’t think this through all the way. Even being the best in our year doesn’t mean that we’re experienced enough to be experimenting with this. I think we should just give our notes to Professor Slughorn and ask him to brew the potion for Remus. Let’s just vanish it before anything bad happens, okay?”
Severus stayed silent, fidgeting with his hands as he inwardly debated what to do. On one hand, he knew that Lily was right. This was an extremely volatile potion, and it was foolish of them to brew it without adult supervision. But on the other hand, he knew that if they were super careful, they likely could pull it off. And successfully improving the Wolfsbane Potion would mean that he wouldn’t have any trouble finding a potions master willing to sponsor his apprenticeship after graduation.
“Severus, please,” Lily whispered, taking his hand in her own. “We need to vanish it.”
Seeing the pleading and slightly desperate look in her green eyes, Severus acquiesced. If he was by himself, he probably would have seen it through, but no potion was worth risking his best friend’s life, especially since she didn’t want to continue anymore. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s vanish it together so we have enough spell power, yeah? On the count of three.”
Lily nodded, looking relieved. “One. Two…”
BOOM!
The count of three was muffled by the plunk of what sounded like an object landing in liquid, followed almost instantaneously by an explosion that shook the entire dungeon floor. The cauldron rocketed into the air, the pewter splitting, spewing a thick, boiling substance from its cracks.
Time slowed down as the potion splattered across the room, and suddenly Severus was engulfed in what felt like an inferno of bubbling lava. His nerve endings burned, writhing in agony in the never-ending flames. In the distance, he heard two voices screaming. Dimly, he registered that one of the voices was his. Then, everything went black.
Albus sighed as he stroked the hair of the still unconscious boy lying on a hospital bed. It had been two days since he’d been alerted to a major disturbance in the dungeons. Two days since he’d seen Horace rush into the infirmary with his limp ward levitated on a stretcher and Ms. Evans closely behind. The girl had thankfully recovered quickly, having suffered only a few easily treatable burns. It was Severus who had taken the brunt of the explosion.
“I’ve asked the elves to prepare two breakfast trays,” Minerva said, quietly coming up from behind him. She flicked her wand, and an armchair appeared. Settling into it, her eyes swept over the form of her godson. “Any updates?” she murmured, reaching out to gently take the child’s hand.
Albus lifted a shoulder uncertainly. “Poppy still expects him to regain consciousness sometime today, hopefully soon. His injuries have also finished healing, but he’ll need to apply a salve on his arms every day for a week to prevent scarring.”
“Poor lad, Merlin knows he already has enough scars from his bastard father,” Minerva muttered bitterly. “You know, I tried to visit the man in his cell, just for a friendly little chat of course, but Alastor wouldn’t let me. Said something about undermining his deserved sentence if he showed up in court looking like something the cat had dragged in.” She sniffed disdainfully. “As if I would be foolish enough to leave evidence behind.”
“Ah, so you got the same lecture as me,” Albus commented wryly.
Minerva raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I must admit that I’m surprised, Albus. You have never favored the more, shall we say, aggressive approach with your foes.”
“Well, you know,” Albus gestured vaguely. “Sometimes someone special comes into our lives whom we grow to care about more deeply than we could ever imagine. Someone who we’d do anything for in order to protect and keep them safe.”
Minerva eyed him searchingly for a long moment. Then, her expression softened. “You love him, don’t you?”
Albus’ gaze drifted to tenderly observe the small child lying before him. His smart, sarcastic, passionate young ward. Caring and empathetic despite the cruel treatment he’d been forced to endure. And filled with a knack for trouble and a resilience that never failed to amaze the older wizard. “I do,” he responded at last. “I had not thought that I would be able to love a child as much as I do Severus after what happened with Ariana, but I have come to see the boy as my own.”
“I’m relieved to hear that,” Minerva admitted quietly. “I was worried about you two at first. I am glad to know that Severus will still have someone who loves him, should something happen to one of us during the war.”
Albus’ expression turned grave. With a flick of his wrist, a strong privacy ward was raised around them. “Let us hope that it does not come to that. Thankfully, we have an edge on Tom’s plans that should tilt the odds in our favor. He is not aware that we are searching for and destroying his ties to immortality, and that hubris will be to our advantage.”
“Hubris will only weaken him so much, though,” Minerva pointed out somberly. “It is well known that you are the only one You-Know-Who fears, Albus, but it’s been a long time since you’ve crossed wands. Do you truly believe that you can defeat him?” She whispered the last part, wanting to know yet fearful of his answer at the same time.
“Call him Voldemort or Tom, my dear. Fear of a name—”
“Yes, yes. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself, as you’ve said many times,” Minerva interrupted with a hint of exasperation. “Please, Albus… will you be able to defeat him?”
Albus took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, his eyes closing. “Yes, I will. I have no delusions that we will escape this war unscathed and with no casualties, but I have been studying Tom’s trajectory for decades. As things stand now, I have more experience, knowledge, and power than him, which is why we must act as soon as the horcruxes are all destroyed. I am not invincible nor arrogant enough to believe that I will not sustain an injury, but I am confident that I will not perish at Tom’s wand.”
Minerva exhaled in relief. “Thank Merlin. Severus will need you, as will our students.”
The headmaster turned to her sharply. “They will both have you regardless of what happens to me, Minerva. When the final battle happens, you will be charged with protecting the school.”
“I am a member of The Order, Albus. I will not sit back and let you and the others fight in my stead,” Minerva exclaimed heatedly. “Filius’ allegiance is to Hogwarts and our students. He and the other professors are perfectly capable of defending the castle.”
“No,” Albus denied in a steely tone. “You are the Deputy Headmistress and thus responsible for our students in my stead. I know that your skills are more than admirable, but I do not want you directly on the battlefield.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Albus! I am not some damsel in distress. You have said that you are confident you shall survive this war. But there are still plenty of others who will be risking their lives to fight, and I will not abandon them when my skills could help save lives. Tom will not dare to attack Hogwarts with its ancient wards. Severus and the students will be safe. You know this.”
Albus rubbed his temple tiredly. “You are right. If you wish to fight, then that is your choice. This is war, and it’s selfish of me to try and protect such a formidable witch from fighting on the battlefield, even if she is my closest friend,” he trailed off with a glance to his side.
Minerva squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Albus. I have no intention of dying in this war, but I will also not let my friends and allies fight without me by their side.”
“I know, my dear. And that’s one of the many qualities I admire about you,” Albus said with a fond look.
“Well now,” Minerva cleared her throat. “That’s enough talk about the war. When do you plan on adopting our darling, mischief-making child?”
Albus chuckled. “He certainly does seem determined to give us as many gray hairs as possible, doesn’t he?”
“Honestly, between his trips into the Forbidden Forest and this most recent potions escapade, the boy is going to give me a heart attack from stress,” Minerva huffed. “You will be giving him a lecture on this latest stunt, yes? I still cannot believe those two children thought that brewing a modified version of a potion that even Horace struggles to brew would be a good idea.”
“Indeed,” Albus shook his head. “Admirable in theory to help young Mr. Lupin, and I’m sure Horace will research the modifications. But the risks involved and the harm it did, even if the explosion wasn’t their fault… you need not worry, Minerva. I will most certainly be having a stern discussion with Severus, and the children will be sent to you afterwards for detention, and another lecture while they’re at it, if I know you.”
Minerva smirked. “Naturally. But back to my previous question, will you wait until the end of the school year to bring up the topic of adoption with Severus?”
“I was thinking of asking him on his birthday, actually,” Albus revealed. “That way it can be finalized as soon as Tobias’ trial is over and he officially loses all custody of his son.”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Minerva nodded approvingly. “We both know that Severus is still worried that we might abandon him someday. Knowing that you plan to adopt him will hopefully assuage those fears.”
“Yes, I am also hopeful that it will reduce his insecurity,” Albus agreed.
“And I will be granted official godmother status on the paperwork, yes?” Minerva added expectantly, hardly phrasing it as a question.
Albus smiled at her. “Of course, my dear friend. I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”
“Excellent,” she smiled back. “Now then, Albus. You have been sitting in the hospital wing for over two days straight with only a few breaks to the restroom and your office. You need to go back to your quarters and take a nap,” she ordered.
“But Severus—”
“I will sit here with Severus,” Minerva cut him off. “You need to get some rest. I’ve already asked the house elves to deliver your breakfast to your quarters.”
“As you wish, my dear,” Albus said, conceding defeat at the stern look in his colleague’s eyes. He slowly rose to his feet. “But are you sure—”
“Albus, don’t make me set Poppy on you!”
The headmaster chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “Alright. I’m going, I’m going. You’ll let me know if he wakes up while I’m gone?”
Minerva nodded. “I’ll send you my patronus.”
By the time Severus woke up, the sun was already sinking below the horizon. Disoriented, he blearily looked around, only to realize that he was once again in the hospital wing. Bloody fantastic. What had happened this time to land him here? He closed his eyes, then groaned loudly as the sequence of events flooded back to him. He and Lily had been trying to brew the experimental wolfsbane potion, they’d been about to vanish it, and then suddenly it had exploded with absolutely no warning. He remembered the boiling potion splattering everywhere, and… Lily! Was she okay? Frantically, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, intent on finding her.
“Oh, no you don’t, young man,” a familiar, stern voice warned.
“But Aunt Minnie,” Severus protested as he was forced back into bed by his godmother. “I need to check on Lily!”
“Ms. Evans is perfectly fine. She escaped with only a few burns which were promptly treated,” McGonagall assured him. “You, on the other hand, were not so fortunate.”
Severus shrank back as he was speared with a fierce, highly displeased glare. Gulping, he braced himself for the worst as his godmother started in on him.
“What on earth were you thinking, brewing a highly volatile and dangerous potion all alone? Were your brains replaced with flobberworms?” McGonagall ranted furiously. “You two could have been killed!”
Severus ducked his head contritely. He knew that the explosion could have been a lot worse, and they were lucky neither of them had been permanently injured. “We were going to vanish it, but it exploded before we could. I know we shouldn’t have been brewing it,” he mumbled.
“Well, I’m glad you at least recognize that,” McGonagall sniffed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I promised Albus that I would save my lecture for later, so I’ll do my best. But don’t you dare scare me like that again, young man! Do you understand?” she demanded, wagging her finger at him.
“Yes, ma’am.” Severus’ face scrunched up as he was abruptly pulled into a tight hug and smooshed against his godmother’s chest. “Aunt Minnie,” he whined, his voice muffled in her cloak.
“This is what you get for giving me gray hairs,” McGonagall answered with a smirk.
Severus made a show of gasping for air, only ceasing his dramatics when he was released and playfully bopped on the nose. He pouted childishly, then frowned as he realized his potions journal wasn’t sitting on the side table. “Where’s my potions journal? It did survive the explosion, right?” he asked worriedly.
“Your journal is intact but will stay where it is for the time being until it is deemed advisable to return to you.”
“What do you mean by advisable? I need my journal back! It has all of my notes on the wolfsbane in it,” Severus insisted, feeling a surge of panic flow through him.
“Your father—Albus, that is, decided it would be prudent for him to look after it until he’s assured that you will not attempt to brew the modified wolfsbane again,” McGonagall explained.
Severus dropped his eyes to his lap. Oh. That made sense, even if he didn’t like it. She was wrong about his guardian, though. “Dumbledore’s not my father,” he pointed out quietly, a hint of sadness in his voice. The headmaster would never be his father, no matter how much he secretly wished that he was.
“I suppose you’re right, legally speaking. But family isn’t just about blood and biology. It’s about so much more, isn’t it?” McGonagall mused.
Severus frowned at her, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I have always believed that the people you call mum and dad don’t have to be limited to your biological parents,” McGonagall offered. “Sometimes, especially when our blood relatives cannot meet our needs, there are other figures in our lives who become our chosen family. People who we love and care about more than anything else in this world, and who feel the same way in return. To me, a true father is someone who raises you with unconditional love and support.”
Severus was silent for a long minute, thinking through what his godmother had said. Maybe he was starting to see Dumbledore as his real father. He was certainly a better father to him than Tobias had ever been. But… “My guardian doesn’t feel that way about me, though,” he informed her forlornly. “He’s only fulfilling my mum’s request that he look after me until I’m of age.”
“Hmm. Did you know, Severus, that Albus sat with you almost the entire time you were unconscious?” McGonagall smiled softly at his look of astonishment. “For a little over two days, your guardian refused to leave your side except to use the bathroom and grab paperwork from his office.”
“R-Really?” Severus asked, his eyes wide.
“Really,” McGonagall confirmed. “Today is the first time he left your bedside for longer than five minutes, and it was only because I threatened to stick Poppy on him if he didn’t get some rest.”
Severus grinned at the image of the headmaster being chased out by the mediwitch, then shyly ducked his head at the revelation. Did Dumbledore really care that much about him? He could hardly believe that anyone would be so devoted to him as to sit by his unconscious form for two entire days, but his guardian had apparently done exactly that.
“Ah, speaking of our beloved headmaster, here he comes now,” McGonagall announced, rising from her chair. “I’ll leave you two to talk now.”
“Severus. My dear child,” his guardian said softly as he approached the bed. “I am so very glad to see that you are okay.”
The tenderness in Dumbledore’s tone took him by surprise, and Severus found himself rapidly blinking to keep his tears at bay. Clearing his throat, he raised his head and looked up. “Aunt Minerva said that you sat with me the entire time I was unconscious,” he said in a small voice.
Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, I did.”
“But… why? Why would you spend so much time with me?” He shifted under his covers as his guardian sat down on the edge of the bed and laid a warm hand over his two smaller ones.
“Why?” Dumbledore repeated gently. “Because you are the most precious child in the entire world to me, Severus. I was absolutely terrified that I might lose you when I saw the severity of your injuries after the potions explosion. Nothing was more important than making sure you would be okay.”
Severus swallowed hard at his guardian’s words. Being called the most precious child in the world… Well, he definitely had some things he needed to think long and hard about. Later, though. Once he had time to process everything.
“I’m sorry for worrying you,” he whispered, studying his knees. “I know it was stupid, but I just wanted to help Lupin and prove that I could improve the wolfsbane. But Lily realized it was too dangerous halfway through, so we stopped. We’d been about to vanish it, I swear, but it somehow exploded before we could.”
“Ms. Evans’ explanation was the same,” Dumbledore nodded, “and I must commend you both for your commitment to helping Mr. Lupin. Professor Slughorn will gladly review the research you and Ms. Evans did and attempt the improvements. However,” he continued, his tone hardening like steel, “I can hardly express how displeased I am that you broke curfew, blackmailed a NEWT student into removing the laboratory wards, and attempted to brew this potion unsupervised, knowing full well how utterly dangerous it was.”
”I wasn’t technically unsupervised. Lily was with me,” Severus mumbled under his breath.
“I’d watch my cheek if I were you,” Dumbledore advised sternly. “You’re already in enough trouble as it is.”
Severus winced. He hadn’t meant for his guardian to hear that. “Sorry, sir.”
“As I was saying, I am extremely upset that you foolishly risked your life to brew this potion. Your life is more important than all of the potions in the world, and yet you still chose to go through with it,” Dumbledore admonished heatedly. “Furthermore, you knew that even the slightest contaminant could cause a massive explosion!”
Severus hunched his shoulders inwards, feeling ashamed. He knew that he’d acted like a brainless dunderhead, and facing his guardian’s disappointment made him feel ten times worse.
“And while this particular explosion was not technically your fault,” the headmaster allowed, “the most minor of mistakes could have resulted in a similar or even worse catastrophe!”
Severus’ head jerked up. “Professor Slughorn figured out what caused the explosion then?” he asked hesitantly. He’d assumed that a brewing error had triggered the reaction, but now it sounded like it had been something else.
Dumbledore’s expression flickered before settling into impassiveness. “It would seem that you and Ms. Evans were not alone in the lab. Mr. Black was also discovered at the scene. After being questioned, he admitted to throwing a firecracker into your cauldron.”
Severus’ jaw dropped. “H-He… Was he trying to…?” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but Dumbledore seemed to understand what he was asking.
“Mr. Black’s intention was not to cause any fatalities or serious injuries, but rather to frighten you and ruin your work. He was not aware of the purpose or volatility of the potion,” Dumbledore stated.
“How do you know he wasn’t lying? He’s done it plenty of times before to get out of trouble,” Severus pointed out distrustfully.
“Given the gravity of the situation, Mr. Black was questioned with legilimency by Fleamont Potter in his capacity as an auror. He discovered that Mr. Black was harboring extreme feelings of jealousy towards you.”
“What?” Severus gaped, bewildered. “Black was jealous of me? But why?”
Dumbledore exhaled deeply. “It would appear that you are not the only child for whom I’ve missed the signs of parental abuse. Young Mr. Black was jealous that you had acquired myself as your new guardian while he was still stuck with his abusive mother. Walburga Black is apparently partial to the cruciatus curse as a method of discipline for her eldest son.”
“S-She tortured him with an unforgivable?” Severus choked out in horror. There was no denying that he despised Sirius Black, but he would never wish the cruciatus curse on even his worst enemy.
The headmaster closed his eyes and nodded. “Lord and Lady Black are currently in Azkaban awaiting trial. The Potters have already been granted custody of Sirius and Regulus, seeing as Euphemia Potter née Black is a close blood relative.”
Severus shook his head in sickened disbelief. Bloody hell. That would certainly help explain the Gryffindor’s rather unhinged mental state. “What’s going to happen to Black now?” he asked.
“Mr. Sirius Black has been suspended indefinitely and will not be allowed to return to Hogwarts until he is cleared by a mind healer and delivers apologies to those he has bullied. The Potters have also pulled their son out of school for the rest of the year and have decided to hire private tutors while having him do community service to teach him consideration for others,” Dumbledore revealed.
Severus could only blink dumbly in response. He was glad that Black would be getting professional help and that Potter would also be held responsible for his actions. Potter had never been as bad as Black, but both Gryffindors had made his school life hell, and he was relieved that they would be gone for the rest of the school year.
“As for your own punishment,” Dumbledore said, prompting an apprehensive look from the twelve-year-old. “You owe me a five-foot essay on the value of your life, why your actions endangered yourself and Ms. Evans, and what you would do differently next time. Since your winter exams are right around the corner, you will write it over the holiday break.”
Severus winced at the length of the essay but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. He’d learned the hard way that his guardian was no pushover when it came to doling out punishments for endangering his own safety. Any protests would likely result in having to write twice the length, and he definitely didn’t want that.
“In regard to the school rules you broke, you will be spending your weekend scrubbing cauldrons with Ms. Evans,” Dumbledore informed him. “I’ve already spoken with Madam Pomfrey who’s given you a clean bill of health, so you’re all set for your first detention. I’m sure you’re eager to leave the hospital wing, after all.”
Severus sulked as his well-known dislike of the infirmary was used against him, forestalling any attempts to delay his detention. For a Gryffindor, Dumbledore sure had a lot of Slytherin tendencies. Trudging reluctantly after his guardian, the twelve-year-old’s heart sank as he suddenly remembered his godmother’s parting comment. He inwardly groaned, willing to bet his favorite potions book that she was the professor supervising his and Lily’s detentions. That meant that not only would they have to scrub cauldrons, but they’d also have to endure what was sure to be a long and scathing lecture the entire time they worked.
“Hey Lily,” he greeted glumly as he was marched inside the potions lab. His best friend was already waiting with his godmother, confirming his suspicions.
“Hey Sev,” Lily returned in a similarly gloomy tone.
“Sorry I got us into this mess,” he apologized. “You wouldn’t have gone through with the potion if you’d known that Slughorn hadn’t approved it.”
Lily shook her head. “I understood the dangers just as well as you. Slughorn’s approval or not, I knew it wasn’t a good idea to try and brew it with just the two of us. I’m just glad that no one was permanently hurt.”
Severus nodded in agreement and opened his mouth to respond, only to stop short when a scrub brush was thrust into his hand.
“That’s enough dallying,” McGonagall interjected. “You two have a day’s worth of cauldrons to clean this weekend, so I suggest you get started now.”
The professor waved her wand, and the biggest pile of cauldrons Severus had ever seen appeared on the work table. Exchanging a look with Lily, he was met with an identical expression of horror. “These are all just from one day?” he whimpered pathetically.
“Yes, they are,” McGonagall answered shortly. “So start scrubbing, or we’ll be here until the end of term.”
With apprehensive faces, the two plunged their soapy brushes into the first of the cauldrons, beginning the arduous process of scrubbing away layers of grime and potions residue. As expected, the professor wasted no time in launching into her lecture, and sooner than he would have liked, Severus was silently swearing to do anything he could to avoid another blistering dressing down like this one. No wonder even the headmaster was afraid to cross his godmother!
Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, the twelve-year-old forlornly started cleaning his second cauldron. It was going to be a long weekend, that was for sure. But at least he was suffering with his best friend. How’d that muggle saying go again? Oh, that's right—
It takes two to tango.
Chapter Text
Two heads peaked around the corner, only to disappear a second later. “Watch out for Mrs. Norris!” Severus hissed, grabbing his companion’s sleeve and pulling him out of sight.
“Thanks, mate,” the brown-haired boy whispered, his face pale as the feline stalked down the corridor followed closely by Filch.
Severus nodded curtly, waiting silently until the two foes were gone. “Alright, I think we’re all clear.”
“Whew, that was close,” Remus Lupin said with a grin, wiping an invisible bead of sweat from his forehand. “Tonight was fun, though. I’ve never gotten to see the winter solstice fireworks in Hogsmeade before. Thanks for inviting me along.”
Severus shrugged awkwardly. “Well, everyone else went home for the holidays except for some seventh years and us, so I figured you wouldn’t be the worst company to have.”
Lupin laughed. “Wow, you sure know how to flatter a mate, don’t you?” he teased.
“Sorry,” Severus flushed, ducking his head. The Gryffindor had been a surprisingly fun accomplice on their after-curfew excursion, and he didn’t want to offend him.
“Hey, I’m just taking the mickey out of you,” Lupin said, bumping him gently. “If anyone has anything to be sorry for, it’s me. I still can’t apologize enough for—”
“Stop,” Severus cut him off, holding up a hand. “You’ve already apologized a million times for your part in Black and Potter’s bullying, and while I do appreciate it, this most recent stunt was not your fault.”
Lupin sighed. “I know, but I should have stood up to them sooner! And the fact that you and Lily were working on a potion to help my condition when it happened… I just want you to know that I really am sorry, and I’m so grateful to you two. I never thought anyone else besides James and Sirius would accept me, much less try to improve the Wolfsbane, so what you’re doing means a lot. Seriously.”
Severus shifted uncomfortably at the other boy’s gratitude. “Well, we didn’t exactly succeed in making the improvements yet. But Professor Slughorn said he’ll look at our research and see what he can do.”
“Exactly,” Lupin insisted. “Even if you didn’t actually brew the potion, it’s you and Lily who did the hard work to make this even a possibility! What… What would you say to being mates instead of just study partners? Maybe even first names?” he asked hopefully.
Severus hesitated. Was he ready to be friends with the last remaining marauder? It was true that Lupin was no longer associating with his bullies, and it had been fun to sneak into Hogsmeade together. They’d even managed to avoid being spotted by any adults, thanks to Lupin’s knowledge of the secret tunnels out of the castle. And the Gryffindor had been nothing but kind to him ever since they’d started studying together. “That sounds good… Remus,” he responded shyly. It would be nice to have a friend with whom he could talk about boy stuff. Lily was great, but she was a girl, and it was just a bit different.
“Ace,” Lupin grinned. He tilted his head as the bells of the clocktower chimed in the distance. “Blimey, it’s already one in the morning! We should probably get to bed before anyone catches us. I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast, yeah?”
Severus nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you then.”
As both boys went in opposite directions, Severus glanced over his shoulder, a small smile appearing on his face. He had actually made a new friend! Now he had Lily and Remus as mates. And with Black and Potter gone for at least the next term, it seemed like things were finally looking up for him.
Reaching the entrance to his and Dumbledore’s quarters, he placed his palm against the stone and waited for the familiar phoenix to appear. The door swung open, and he tiptoed inside, quietly closing it behind him. His guardian had been asleep when he’d snuck out, and hopefully he would remain that way until Severus was safely back in bed.
Creeping down the hallway to his bedroom, the twelve-year-old winced as a loose floorboard ominously creaked. He froze, holding his breath in trepidation. Still silent. He quietly exhaled. Thank Merlin, Dumbledore hadn’t woken up. Finally making it back to his bedroom, he carefully turned the doorknob and stepped inside.
“Back so soon?”
Severus let out a high-pitched shriek (not that he’d ever admit it) as the lights suddenly turned on, revealing his guardian who was seemingly waiting for his return. “P-Professor,” he squeaked, frantically trying to think of a way to explain himself.
“I must admit, I’m quite impressed that you made it back so quickly,” Dumbledore conveyed pleasantly, rising from his armchair and slipping what appeared to be an oval locket with an engraved ‘S’ into his robe pocket. “In fact, it was only a few minutes ago that I received a floo call from my brother Aberforth claiming that he spotted two unaccompanied young lads watching the fireworks from inside Honeydukes. Imagine my surprise when Minerva and I discovered you and Mr. Lupin missing from your beds. I believe your godmother is currently speaking with your accomplice,” he remarked nonchalantly.
Severus shuddered. Dumbledore could be intimidating for sure, but McGonagall was a whole other matter. He did not envy the other boy one bit.
“Tell me, my boy, what were you thinking when you decided to sneak out of the castle and into Hogsmeade? Surely I’ve impressed upon you the dangers of being unaccompanied by a professor outside of Hogwarts’ wards?”
Severus gulped at the light, cheerful tone that his guardian was using. It would almost be better if the man was yelling at him. “W-We just wanted to see the fireworks, sir. We stayed inside Honeydukes the entire time so no one would see us.”
“Better than wandering the dark streets by yourselves, I’ll give you credit for that,” Dumbledore hummed. “But you did not go as unnoticed as you’d thought. What would you have done if one of Voldemort’s Death Eaters had spotted you and attacked?”
“We were only a floor above the secret passageway back to the castle,” Severus protested. “And Hogsmeade was packed with aurors. They wouldn’t have attacked with so many of them around.”
Dumbledore sighed. “Unfortunately, that could have been an ideal situation for Voldemort’s followers. The Death Eaters are becoming increasingly bold, Severus, targeting public spaces with ever increasing frequency. Do you truly think you could have made it back to the castle and sealed the secret entrance in time if a Death Eater had been chasing you?”
Severus ducked his head, sobered. He had thought that the Dark Lord wouldn’t dare to attack an event if lots of aurors were around, but apparently that wasn’t the case. He knew his guardian wouldn’t say something like that just to scare him. If he and Remus had been spotted and attacked by a Death Eater, they’d have been toast. “No, sir,” he mumbled in response. “We probably wouldn’t have made it back in time.”
“Indeed, two twelve-year-olds are no match for an adult wizard or witch,” Dumbledore said gravely. “You could have been in great peril this evening, and it is only by chance that nothing happened.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Severus said in a small voice. He could feel his guardian’s disappointed gaze on him, somehow making him feel smaller than ever. It had been a dunderhead move to leave the safety of the castle wards just to watch some silly fireworks. As much as Dumbledore tried to shield him from the worst of the war, he knew that he was a target, having openly rejected his housemates’ recruitment attempts. Not to mention being the ward of the Leader of the Light himself.
“I am glad you understand. It is unfortunate that these are the times we live in, where a little mischief could turn into a life-threatening situation, but that is why it is extra important that you obey the rules put in place to keep you safe.” Dumbledore’s tone softened. “Please remember that you have people who care about you, my boy. I just want to keep you safe.”
Severus clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head, blinking back tears. He knew that his guardian was right, and he silently resolved not to leave the castle wards again without permission. He didn’t want to worry the only adults who’d ever cared about him.
“I trust that we will not have to have another conversation like this again?” Dumbledore prompted lightly.
“No, sir.”
“Very good. Then I think it’s time you got back to bed.”
Severus nodded and shrugged off his cloak before hanging it on its hook. He was still wearing his pajamas underneath, not having bothered to change so that sneaking back in would be easier. So much for that plan.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast,” Dumbledore said, gently patting his head and tucking him into bed. “Sweet dreams, my boy.”
“Goodnight,” Severus yawned, hiding a grin as it appeared he’d somehow gotten away with only a scolding.
“Oh, before I forget,” Dumbledore said suddenly, stopping at the door and turning around. “I’m sure Mr. Filch will be delighted to hear that you and Mr. Lupin have volunteered to polish the awards in the trophy room. Without magic of course,” he finished cheerfully.
Severus audibly groaned. He should have known that a mere scolding was too good to be true. As his guardian left the room, the twelve-year-old let his head fall heavily onto his pillow. Being a kid sure had its downsides, especially since he constantly seemed to find himself in trouble. Sometimes, he couldn’t wait to become a grown-up.
Christmas dawned bright and sunny with a glistening layer of snow that covered the castle grounds. Severus stretched languidly before climbing out of bed and padding across the carpet to his dresser. Having never celebrated the holiday at Spinner’s End, he was a bit nervous about what to expect from his makeshift family. Dumbledore had explained that he would be receiving presents under the Christmas tree, but the only experience Severus had with presents from adults was a strap and cane that his father had promptly taken to his backside. And while the twelve-year-old knew that his current caregivers would never do something like that, he was still rather anxious.
Deciding that it would be best to just go for it, Severus took a deep breath and headed for the family room. Peeking his head inside the doorway, his eyes widened as he noticed the transformation from the previous night. The pine tree that they’d decorated on Christmas Eve was now sprinkled with tinsel and a light dusting of snow. A decorative garland adorned the fireplace mantel, and warmly lit candles were magically suspended from the ceiling. And on the coffee table lay a mouth-watering assortment of scones, muffins, mini quiches, bacon, eggs, fruit, and hot chocolate.
“Wow,” he breathed, taking everything in. His eyes drifted back to the tree where beneath the branches a pile of beautifully wrapped presents rested on a velvety red and white blanket. He was certain that only one or two of the presents were for him, but to receive an actual gift from the adults in his life was incredible. Suddenly, he was very glad that he’d gone to Slughorn’s supervised lab hours and brewed a few concoctions he thought his guardian and godmother might like.
“Happy Christmas, my boy,” Dumbledore greeted jovially as he entered the room holding a mug of coffee, McGonagall following behind him.
“Happy Christmas, Severus,” McGonagall smiled, leaning over to peck him on the cheek.
Severus smiled shyly. “Happy Christmas,” he returned, hesitantly taking a seat as his godmother gestured to the empty spot on the couch between herself and his guardian.
“Now, what would you like to start with? Presents or breakfast?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling.
Severus’ eyes flitted back and forth between the Christmas tree and breakfast array. He really wanted to open presents first, but he also didn’t want to seem like a greedy brat. “Uh, either is fine with me,” he said as convincingly as he could.
Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow. “You’d be perfectly content to eat breakfast first and wait to open your presents?” he asked disbelievingly.
Severus nodded rapidly, doing his best to ignore the tantalizing presents beneath the tree. “Of course, sir. Breakfast sounds wonderful,” he lied. Badly, it seemed, based on the look his guardian speared him with. He swallowed nervously, waiting for the reaction.
“Severus,” McGonagall sighed, “We can both see how excited you are to open your presents. You’re only twelve, child. It’s natural to want to unwrap your presents before having breakfast.”
Severus stared at his knees. “But you both have already done so much for me. I can wait if you want to eat first.”
“We appreciate your thoughtfulness, my boy, but I promise we won’t think badly of you if you choose presents first,” Dumbledore assured him. “Anyone your age would.”
Severus chewed on his lip, his gaze shifting back to the gift-wrapped items against his will. “You really don’t mind? For real?”
“For real.”
“Then… then I’d like to open presents first, please,” he admitted in a rush before he could take it back.
“Then presents first it is,” Dumbledore agreed warmly, gesturing him forwards. “Go on, child.”
With his guardian’s encouragement, Severus timidly knelt before the tree, his fingers reverently running over the many boxes labeled with his name. “These… are these really all for me?” he whispered.
“Yes, they are, Sev,” McGonagall said softly, lowering herself to kneel beside him. “You’ve got presents from myself, Albus, and your friend Ms. Evans. Here, why don’t you start with her present?”
A small parcel was placed in his lap, and Severus carefully unfolded the wrapping paper, smiling as he saw the brand new self-inking quill with his name engraved into it. He hoped she liked the color-changing potion he’d sent her. Lily had been talking about wanting to repaint her childhood bedroom from pink to blue for months now.
“That was thoughtful of Ms. Evans,” McGonagall commented.
Severus nodded. “Lily and I have exchanged gifts ever since we met when we were little,” he explained. His gifts to her had always been homemade (for obvious reasons), but his best friend had never cared about the lack of monetary value. ‘It’s the thought and effort that count,’ she’d persistently claim every year before delightedly opening whatever he’d managed to scrape together.
“What a wonderful tradition,” Dumbledore smiled warmly. “Shall we continue with the next present?”
Gradually growing more confident, Severus started opening the rest of his presents with diminishing hesitance, and soon he was tearing off the wrapping paper with the carelessness and excitement expected from a child his age. By the time he’d finished unwrapping his presents, he could hardly believe how lucky he was. Between his guardian and godmother, he had new clothes, robes, winter boots, games, toys, books, a leather-bound potions journal, a chess set, and a stash of Honeydukes’ finest chocolate.
“Thank you so much,” Severus breathed in amazement. “This is incredible. You shouldn’t have spent so much money on me!”
“Nonsense, my boy. Every knut was worth it. And besides, it’s our prerogative to spoil you a little on Christmas,” Dumbledore countered with a wink.
Severus blushed faintly. “I, erm, also have something for both of you. It’s just something small. I’m not sure if you’ll like it, though.”
“Oh, you didn’t need to get us anything, Severus!” McGonagall exclaimed. “But I’m sure we’ll love whatever it is.”
Biting his lip anxiously, the twelve-year-old reached under the couch where he’d hidden the two presents. “Sorry, they’re not wrapped very well,” he apologized, flushing at the newspaper that was scrunched around the boxes. He hadn’t been able to find any real wrapping paper, so he’d had to improvise.
“There’s nothing to apologize for, my boy. It was very thoughtful of you to think of us.”
Severus held his breath as he watched his guardian unwrap his gift. Having witnessed the headmaster’s obsession with lemon drops, he had brewed a cauldron of the syrup that he’d then poured into candy molds.
“Lemon drops,” Dumbledore exclaimed delightedly. “And perfect timing, I was just starting to run out of them. Thank you, my boy,” he said, popping one into his mouth. “Would either or you like one?”
Severus hastily declined while McGonagall rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Honestly Albus, it’s a miracle your teeth haven’t fallen out with all the sugar you eat.”
“If they do, I’m sure Poppy will be able to put them back,” Dumbledore chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t want one, my boy?”
Severus made a face. “I’m good, but thanks.” He’d never been fond of the sugary sweet lemon flavor. He honestly had no idea how his guardian tolerated them.
“Ah well, more for me then,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “What did Severus give you, Minerva?”
Severus turned his attention to his godmother, watching nervously as she unwrapped the newspaper from around the vial.
“Oh, you brewed me a potion,” McGonagall said curiously. “What does it do?”
“It prevents environmental substances from getting into your fur when you’re in your animagus form,” Severus explained. “I know you mentioned it being annoying to groom yourself in your cat form, so I thought you might find it useful.”
McGonagall’s eyes lit up. “Most definitely. This will be perfect for keeping out allergens and such. Thank you, Severus.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Severus said happily, pleased that his gifts had been well-received. “Are we going to eat breakfast now?”
“Actually,” Dumbledore said. “We have one last present for you. This is from both myself and your godmother.”
Severus’ brow furrowed as his guardian snapped his fingers and a large circular present suddenly became visible. Sending the two adults an inquisitive look, he carefully pulled on the bow that was holding the wrapping paper together.
His jaw dropped.
“No. You didn’t! Did you?” he breathed in disbelief, his head whipping around to stare at his guardian and godmother. “You must be joking.”
“It’s not a joke, I promise.”
“But this is the advanced gold cauldron 2000, one of the most coveted cauldrons by potions masters! You can brew almost anything in this without worrying about explosions,” Severus exclaimed.
“Indeed,” Dumbledore confirmed with a wry smile. “Given your track record, your Aunt Minerva and I decided that it would be a worthwhile investment. At the very least to save us a few gray hairs,” he joked.
“But don’t think that this gives you an excuse to brew anything unsupervised,” McGonagall interjected warningly. “The rules remain the same. But we do hope you’ll enjoy it,” she finished warmly.
Severus nodded, his eyes filling with tears as he reverently traced a finger around the flawless rim of the cauldron. This was unreal. He had dreamed of owning this very cauldron ever since he’d read about it in one of his mum’s old potions magazines as a child. It was the cauldron that every single revolutionary potions master had used when creating the potion that made them famous. He had never in a million years expected that he would ever be in a position to touch one, much less brew in it. It was like a dream come true except…
“No, I can’t. It’s too expensive. I can’t accept this,” he refused suddenly, jolting back to reality. What was he thinking? A boy like him didn’t deserve luxurious things like this! He wasn’t worth anything near the 500 galleons that this cauldron cost.
“Severus—”
“I can’t. I’m not worth it,” he repeated insistently, scooting away from the cauldron and continuing to shake his head. “I can’t accept it.”
“Yes, you can,” Dumbledore countered, stopping him from moving any farther away by taking a hold of his shoulders. “Your worth is not measured by galleons, Severus.”
Severus sniffled. “But… it’s so much money. You shouldn’t be spending that much just on me. You should save it for things that actually matter,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Look at me, my boy.”
He tried to resist, but Dumbledore caught his chin and held it firmly.
“You matter more to us than all of the material wealth in the world,” his guardian said with a quiet intensity. “So yes, this is an expensive gift, and it is a privilege that we are able to afford this. But the amount of money we spend on you does not reflect your worth. Do you understand?”
The twelve-year-old gave a small nod. He certainly didn’t feel worth that much, but he was also starting to understand that for some reason, his caregivers really did see things that way.
“Good. Besides, this cauldron will last you for at least a decade, and it’s something that will make you happy and keep you safer. Please accept it, my boy.”
Severus bit his lip, internally debating. He wanted to keep the cauldron more than anything in the world, and if his guardian and godmother really wanted to give it to him, then he would be a fool to not accept it. “Thank you,” he choked out finally. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“Nowhere near as much as you mean to us,” Dumbledore remarked quietly.
A trickle of tears started running down Severus’ cheeks, and he hastily wiped them away with the edge of his sleeve. “C-Can we eat now?” he requested thickly.
“Breakfast sounds wonderful,” McGonagall nodded understandingly.
Soon, their plates were filled with delicious food, and the conversation turned to lighter topics. Severus had piled his plate high with quiche and bacon, and since it was Christmas, no one was making him eat fruit. He may or may not have ignored the exasperated raised eyebrow he’d received from his Aunt Minnie at the lack of said fruit. She would probably give him a double serving the next morning to make up for it, but oh well. That was a problem for tomorrow.
“Say Severus, after breakfast, what would you say to a snowball fight? Think you can win against the all-powerful headmaster of Hogwarts?” Dumbledore teased.
“A snowball fight against you?” Severus grinned and swallowed a mouthful of bacon. His guardian was even more delusional than he’d thought if he expected to win against a kid from Cokeworth. He and Lily were notorious among the neighborhood kids for being the absolute champions of snowball fighting. “Bring it on, old man. You’re going down!”
“Old man? Now just who are you calling an old man?” Dumbledore spluttered indignantly, although his eyes were twinkling with amusement.
“Oh, sorry, sir. Did I speak too quickly for you? I know it can be hard for elderly folks to hear sometimes,” Severus said cheekily, feeling rather brave. It must be all the Gryffindors he was surrounded by rubbing off on him.
“Why, you little—” Dumbledore shook his head in mock outrage. “I’ll show you who’s the master of snowball fights. Take…that!”
Severus squealed as a snowball appeared out of thin air and smacked him right in the chest, just narrowly avoiding his plate of food. “Hey, that’s not fair,” he gasped, putting his plate down and leaping to his feet. “You used magic!”
“All’s fair in love and war,” Dumbledore returned mischievously.
“Boys, that’s enough. Save it for outside,” McGonagall warned. “You can play after breakfast.”
Severus wisely settled back down, chastised, but his guardian had other plans. A quick flick of the older wizard’s wand, and a giant snowball was hurtling towards him again. The twelve-year-old shrieked in surprise and dove for cover, only said cover happened to be his godmother. Which meant that the snowball smacked his Aunt Minnie straight in the face.
Everyone froze.
“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Did you just hit me in the face with a snowball?” McGonagall asked in an icy whisper, snow dripping off of her.
The headmaster cowered. “Sorry, Minnie.”
McGonagall took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Then, she turned to Severus. “Take out your wand and pay close attention, my dear godson. I’m about to teach you a useful little spell.”
Not wanting her wrath to turn to him, Severus quickly took out his wand. “Yes, ma’am?” he squeaked.
“The incantation is viburnum pugna, and the wand motion is a circular swish followed by a jab at your target,” McGonagall lectured, demonstrating it for him.
“The bewitched snowball spell,” Dumbledore whimpered from across the room.
“Exactly, Albus,” McGonagall said primly. “Now then, Severus, shall we get a little payback?”
Severus giggled at the playful glint in his godmother’s eyes. “I think that’s a great idea, Aunt Minnie.”
Brandishing their wands, the two locked eyes and nodded. “Viburnum pugna!” Snowballs flew through the air, causing Dumbledore to yelp and quickly conjure a shield to avoid being bombarded with snow.
“Two on one isn’t fair, you know!” Dumbledore complained as he sent a volley of snowballs in retaliation, only for McGonagall to transfigure them into snowflakes. He ducked behind the couch as Severus sent another snowball at him.
“Don’t you remember? All’s fair in love and war!” Severus shouted gleefully.
“Bugger,” his guardian mumbled.
“Albus Dumbledore! You watch your language,” McGonagall hollered, launching a particularly fierce onslaught of snow in his direction.
As snowballs continued flying back and forth, making an absolute mess out of their quarters, Severus let out a happy, carefree laugh. They weren’t a family by common definition, and they might never be one, but this was, without a doubt, the best Christmas he had ever had.
Chapter Text
Severus looked up with a tired grin as his best friend slipped into the Room of Requirement, her eyes lighting up as she spotted him. The term had started a couple of weeks ago, but this was the first time they’d managed to catch up since the holidays. Severus blamed the professors and swore that they must have made it their new year’s resolution to double the amount of homework assigned. He could barely keep up with all of the essays, and it didn’t help that he’d been feeling under the weather for the past few days.
“Hey Sev! How was your Christmas?” Lily asked eagerly, flopping into the bean bag next to his. “Thank you for the color changing potion for my room! Tuney was rather jealous at first, but after I gave her the blemish-removing salve that we brewed, she was actually civil to me! It was the first time we’ve gotten along ever since I got my Hogwarts letter.”
“I’m glad she’s treating you better,” Severus replied earnestly, happy for his friend. He knew that the strain on their sibling bond had been difficult for her. “Christmas was great! Thanks for the self-inking quill. I’ve never had one before.”
“You’re welcome, I’m glad you like it.” She frowned as the heavy cough that he’d been suppressing burst out, followed by a series of sneezes. “Are you feeling alright? You sound a bit sick. Have you gone to see Madam Pomfrey?”
Severus grimaced at the snot he’d gotten on his robes and weakly waved his wand, removing the evidence. “I’m fine, it’s probably just a small cold. Nothing to worry about,” he reassured her. In truth, he was actually feeling pretty rotten, but it really wasn’t a big deal. He’d survived much worse before. There was no need to get the mollycoddling mediwitch involved.
Lily eyed him skeptically but reluctantly nodded. “Alright, if you say so. Say, what was the castle like over the holidays? Did you do anything fun with the headmaster?”
Severus nodded, excitedly telling her about the presents and fancy cauldron he’d received. He also told her about the snowball fight he’d had with his guardian and godmother, sniggering when his friend’s mouth dropped open at the thought of prim and proper McGonagall participating in a snowball fight. “Oh, Remus and I also became friends,” he revealed.
“Wait, what?” Lily half-shrieked. “You mean you’re no longer just study buddies? Oh my god, you just called him Remus! Details, Sev. I need details!”
“You and your love of gossip,” he smirked teasingly. “What will you give me in return?”
“Well, if you don’t tell me, I might accidentally call you Sevviekins like I did when we were little,” Lily said, fluttering her eyelashes innocently.
“Blackmail? That’s a very Slytherin move. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet,” Severus drawled, snorting when Lily stuck out her tongue.
“C’mon Sev, pleaseeeee?”
Severus rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Fine. Every year, Hogsmeade puts on a legendary fireworks show on the night of the winter solstice. Since Remus and I were the only second years staying behind over the break, we decided to make a little trip out of it.”
Lily gasped. “You didn’t! You snuck out of the castle?”
Severus shrugged sheepishly. “We took a secret passageway that led into the cellar of Honeydukes and then watched the fireworks from the windows. The store was closed, so no one else was there.”
“Why, how positively Gryffindor of you, Sev,” Lily smirked. “Maybe you should’ve been sorted into the lion’s den.”
“Touché,” Severus acknowledged with a smirk of his own.
“Did you get away with it?”
He pulled a face. “No. Dumbledore’s brother somehow spotted us in the shop. We didn’t realize we’d been seen, but apparently, he floo called the headmaster. Dumbledore was waiting for me, and McGonagall for Remus when we got back.”
“Oof, bad luck,” Lily winced sympathetically. “Detention, I assume?”
Severus nodded. “We spent every morning until Christmas scrubbing and polishing the trophies in the Trophy Room, Dumbledore’s orders. And then McGonagall would stop by and lecture us on our recklessness for a bit as well. It was not fun.”
“I can imagine,” Lily shuddered, likely remembering their shared detention scrubbing cauldrons under McGonagall’s eye not so long ago. The transfiguration professor certainly knew how to make a detention memorable, and not in a good way.
Severus opened his mouth to respond but quickly clamped it shut, muffling the sound of his coughs. He silently groaned when his best friend turned narrowed eyes on him.
“You have more than just a little cold, don’t you? You’ve been trying not to cough this entire time. And your face is red.” Lily accused.
“I’ll be fine,” Severus insisted, grimacing at his frog-like voice. “Anyway, I need to get going. I’m meeting Dumbledore soon, and he’s taking me to Hogsmeade to celebrate my birthday.”
“That sounds wonderful, Sev, but can’t you just postpone until you’re feeling better?” Lily asked. “Besides, your birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”
Severus shook his head. “Dumbledore reserved a table at this really fancy restaurant an entire month ago, and tonight was the only opening they had for the next three weeks. Besides, the cancellation fee alone is something like 10 galleons, and I refuse to be a burden and waste his money and the effort he put into this just because I’m slightly ill.”
“You’re not a burden! And the headmaster would understand,” Lily argued with a frown. Reaching out, she placed the back of her hand against his forehead and gasped. “Sev, you’re burning up! You need to go to Madam Pomfrey.”
“No, I don’t,” Severus refused stubbornly. “I’m fine. If I go, she’ll tell Dumbledore, and then he’ll be worried and cancel our plans.”
Lily put her hands on her hips and fixed him with a look. “Severus Tobias Snape, you’re going to collapse if you go into Hogsmeade in this state. Either you agree to go to the hospital wing with me now, or I’ll tell Madam Pomfrey myself that you’re sick.”
Severus scowled angrily. “That’s not fair! You don’t understand how important this is.” Lily’s parents had always celebrated her birthday, but this was the first time an adult was doing something special for his. She didn’t understand how much this meant to him!
“Fine, you’re probably right, and I’m sorry. But as your best friend, I’m not going to stand by and watch you refuse help until it’s almost too late,” Lily said, her voice wavering slightly. “I may have missed the signs before, but I won’t let you continue hurting yourself if I can help it. I… I’ve seen the marks on your arm, Sev. And I know you said you were seeing a mind healer which is why I didn’t say anything before.”
Severus sighed and dragged a hand down his face. It didn’t surprise him that she had noticed the scars and figured out what they were after he’d stop glamouring them. “Look, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I haven’t cut in a few months,” he said softly, seeing how upset she looked. “Jacob’s helped me a lot, so you don’t need to worry about that.”
Lily gave him a searching look, her green eyes meeting his. “I’m glad to hear that he’s helping. But I’m still worried about you,” she admitted, touching his hand briefly. “Please, will you let me take you to the hospital wing?”
Severus melted at her pleading look, unable to refuse her. “Let’s go then,” he relented, letting her take his hand and gently tug him towards the infirmary. He could see relief wash over his best friend’s face and winced rather guiltily. Yes, he was planning to go to the hospital wing, but he wasn’t planning on seeing Madam Pomfrey. Some things were more important than a mild fever and cold, and not ruining his relationship with his guardian was one of them.
“I’ll check up on you after dinner if you’re still here?” Lily proposed with a hint of question in her voice.
Severus nodded. “Sure, although hopefully I won’t be detained for that long,” he joked weakly.
Lily rolled her eyes fondly and gently nudged him through the door. “I’ll see you later. Behave,” she teased.
“I’ll be an absolute angel,” Severus drawled wryly. The door closed behind him, and he quickly scanned the room, thanking Merlin that Madam Pomfrey was still in her office and hadn’t seemed to hear him come in. Taking out his wand, he waved it over his body while muttering the spell for the glamour charm. There, that should do it.
Turning around, he crept out of the infirmary and headed towards the castle doors where Dumbledore was waiting for him. A quick glance at the time, and he swore before taking off as fast as he could go. He was already late.
Running, unfortunately, had turned out to be a big mistake. By the time Severus reached the entrance, he could feel the sweat dripping down his face, even if it was hidden by his glamour. His throat felt raw, his heart was beating wildly, and his body trembled with exhaustion. Fuck, he had to hold it together! He was not going to ruin the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him for his birthday.
“Ah Severus, there you are,” Dumbledore exclaimed cheerfully. “Let’s be on our way then, shall we?”
“Sorry I’m late, sir,” Severus apologized in a hoarse whisper, struggling to keep up with the headmaster’s stride. He cursed as his throat spasmed, causing him to cough fitfully.
“My boy, are you feeling ill?” Dumbledore questioned with a concerned frown, turning around and looking him over. “You look well, but that’s quite a cough you have.”
Severus shook his head frantically. “I’m fine, really! I was just singing really loudly with Lily earlier, so my throat’s a bit sore,” he lied. He mentally slapped himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Singing too loudly? Seriously? And he called himself a Slytherin? That had to be the worst excuse ever.
“Are you sure, my boy?” Dumbledore asked, skepticism written all over his face. “We can always reschedule if your… singing has left you feeling under the weather.”
Severus’ cheeks tinged pink. “I’m fine, sir. There’s no need to reschedule.”
Dumbledore eyed him critically but then nodded. “If you insist.”
The instant the headmaster turned around, Severus whipped out his wand and quickly strengthened his glamor charm. He could feel the spell weakening with every step, but he couldn’t afford for it to fail. They were almost to the restaurant, and then he could rest.
His vision started to blur, and he forced himself to inhale deeply. Just a few more steps. He could do it. He stumbled, only realizing afterwards that the world had momentarily turned black and he’d fallen into his guardian’s arms.
“My dear child,” Dumbledore murmured. “You are ill, aren’t you? Glamours again? Finite incantatem.”
Severus moaned deliriously as his glamor faded, revealing his trembling, overheated form. “No, I’m fine. Don’t cancel the reservation,” he begged pitifully. “I’m sorry.”
“Shhh, it’s okay, son. Let’s get you back to the castle. A few potions and some rest will have you feeling better in no time at all,” his guardian soothed.
Severus tried to protest that he was fine, but his last shred of energy had deserted him, and all he could do was close his eyes and whimper as he was lifted into the air by strong arms. There was a growing fire that seemed to be spreading rapidly throughout his body, and he weakly moaned. He could just barely sense that he was being carried somewhere, cradled against a firm chest. But the fire was too hot now, and he no longer knew who it was.
“Drink up, child. It’ll help your fever.”
A vial was placed against his lips, and Severus greedily drank the liquid that was tipped into his mouth, desperate for anything that would make the heat go away. More vials were pressed against his mouth, and he swallowed them all without complaint, his eyes still closed.
At some point later, a cool washcloth was placed against his forehead. Severus groaned in relief, his eyes fluttering as he flitted between delirium and reality. He thought that someone was standing over him with a worried expression, but he couldn’t be sure. But he knew that he felt safe with this person.
Slowly, gradually, the fire consuming him started to abate. He blinked, dazedly recognizing the face of his guardian.
“Ah, I was wondering when the potions would kick in,” the older man smiled softly.
Oh. He was home. In their quarters, in his bedroom. Severus yawned, his eyes closing again as the realm of sleep pulled him in. A sheet was placed over his body, and he blindly reached out, latching onto the robe of the person tucking him in. He heard a deep chuckle, and then a hand started combing through his hair.
“Dad?” he mumbled sleepily.
The hand froze for a moment, then resumed stroking his head.
“Yes, son?”
The voice was filled with love, and Severus smiled contentedly. “Stay, please,” he murmured, a breath away from sleep.
A pair of lips pressed against his forehead.
“Always.”
Severus woke up on the morning of his birthday feeling fully recovered, much to his relief. Potions were absolute miracle workers, and why so many of classmates preferred foolish wand waving over the art of potions was truly a mystery to him. After getting dressed, he grabbed his wand from the bedside table and left his room, hoping he wasn’t too late to grab a bite to eat in the Great Hall. With any luck, Dumbledore had already left their quarters for breakfast. His memories of the previous day were a bit fuzzy, but he remembered enough to not want to face his guardian yet. He’d already blown it by making them miss the exclusive dinner reservation that the man had put so much effort into securing.
Passing through the family room, Severus bit his lip as his eyes fell on the familiar figure reading the Daily Prophet, a cup of coffee in hand. Purposefully avoiding eye contact, he mumbled out a greeting before making a desperate beeline for the door. Unfortunately, he didn’t get much farther than a single step before a hand was on his shoulder, stopping him. He swallowed hard, then forced himself to turn around. Dumbledore’s eyes were soft, but his grip was firm. “Am I in trouble?” he asked in a small voice.
His guardian shook her head. “Are you feeling better today, my boy?”
“Yes, sir,” Severus nodded, shuffling his feet under the headmaster’s discerning gaze. He just wanted to go to breakfast and forget that the previous day had ever happened.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Dumbledore remarked gently. He hesitated, then sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were ill yesterday? Surely you know that I wouldn’t have been upset?”
Severus hunched his shoulders. “I’m really sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to ruin everything and make us miss the reservation,” he whispered in a pleading tone, almost begging his guardian to believe him.
“Look at me, please.”
Reluctantly obeying, he raised his eyes, shame glistening in the onyx pools.
“You did not ruin anything, young man. Your health is more important than a silly reservation at a restaurant,” Dumbledore lectured.
“But you put so much effort into getting us a reservation,” Severus protested. “And I know the cancellation fee was ten galleons. I’ll pay you back, I swear, I just need some time to find a job and—”
“You will do no such thing,” Dumbledore countered sharply. “I am your guardian, therefore, it is my responsibility to handle financial matters, not yours. I do not care if the cancellation fee was ten hundred galleons. Your health and well-being are my priority, end of story.”
Severus shook his head in denial. Surely the man was exaggerating. “But sir—”
“This is not up for negotiation. As I’ve said before, you are worth more than all of the galleons in the world,” Dumbledore insisted firmly, “and it is high time that you start treating yourself as such.”
Severus ducked his head, his insides feeling warm at the conviction in his guardian’s voice. He still couldn’t believe that someone actually thought he mattered so much, but he somehow knew that his guardian wasn’t lying.
“You cannot control when you get sick, but you can control whether or not you tell an adult so that they can help,” Dumbledore continued, placing two fingers under his chin and guiding his head back up. “In order to dissuade you from neglecting to seek proper medical care in the future, perhaps it would be helpful to warn you of the consequences should I catch you doing so again.”
Severus gulped at the barely noticeable glint that appeared in his guardian’s eye. He had a feeling that the man would have done well in Slytherin, if that amused yet calculating smirk was anything to go by.
“It is likely that the longer you wait before seeking treatment for an ailment, the more prolonged your stay will be while you recover,” Dumbledore said slyly. “If it’s discovered that you knowingly delayed your visit to the hospital wing, then perhaps being grounded under Madam Pomfrey’s supervision for double the length of time it takes her to officially release you will incentivize you to visit sooner rather than later.”
Severus’ eyes widened in pure horror. He was sure that had Madam Pomfrey caught him yesterday, he would have been confined to the hospital wing for at least a full day. If something like that happened again, that meant that his guardian would make him stay under the mollycoddling mediwitch’s care for an entire extra day after recovering!
“Do we have an understanding?” Dumbledore prompted, not bothering to hide the hint of smugness in his voice.
Severus scowled at the Slytherin tactic but nodded in defeat. “Yes, sir,” he grumbled, refusing to be impressed by how well he’d been played. Now he would have to go to the hospital wing as soon as he felt poorly if he wanted to avoid being grounded there for even longer. The headmaster would’ve made Salazar Slytherin himself proud with that maneuver.
“Good lad,” Dumbledore responded, amusement twinkling in his eyes, leaving no doubt that he knew exactly what Severus had been thinking.
Severus huffed indignantly. “I know I should’ve gone. Even Lily told me so,” he muttered under his breath. “And I would have, but…”
“But what?” Dumbledore asked curiously.
Severus gave a small shrug and looked away. “It’s just…” he trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to say and not wanting to sound ungrateful or greedy. “It’s just that this was the first time an adult in my life has ever bothered to do something for my birthday,” he admitted in a quiet voice. “I wanted it to be special for once, but then I got sick and didn’t even get to enjoy it. And now it’s too late.” He knew he was being stupid. He’d survived twelve years without his parents celebrating his birthday, and it was pointless to be upset about missing it now.
Dumbledore hummed. “And who says it’s too late?”
Severus tilted his head questioningly. “The restaurant is booked until mid-February though. I was there when you called.”
“Well, being one of the most famous wizards in Britain does have its perks,” Dumbledore said with a mischievous smile. “There was a cancellation, and our new reservation is in half an hour. Your Aunt Minerva will also be joining us since it was a table for three that became available.”
Severus looked up hopefully. “Really? We can still go?”
“We can,” Dumbledore confirmed with a smile. “I even managed to get permission to use their floo. Go get dressed now, my boy. And happy birthday.”
Severus’ face broke into a grin as he bounded back to his room. His birthday wasn’t ruined after all! And his Aunt Minnie would be joining them which was even better. This was going to be the best birthday ever.
After putting on his best robes, he eagerly met his guardian by the floo, stepping out a moment later into what was the fanciest restaurant he’d ever imagined. The walls were decorated with gold trim, the tables were decked in white cloths, floating candles adorned the ceiling, and polished silver lay waiting at each seat. “Wow,” he breathed, looking around in amazement. The only time he’d ever been out to eat was on the ride home from King’s Cross last year when Lily’s parents had treated them to Nando’s. But Nando’s was nothing in comparison to this place. This place looked like it was meant for royalty!
“Welcome, sirs,” the host greeted formally. “What’s the name of the reservation, please?”
“Dumbledore. Party of three,” Dumbledore responded. “We’re just waiting on, ah, never mind. There you are, Minerva.”
“Good morning, Albus,” McGonagall smiled as she stepped out of the floo. “And a very happy birthday to you, Severus.”
Severus blushed as she pulled him into a hug and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Thanks, Aunt Minnie.”
“If you’ll follow me, please,” the host said, leading them to a table and setting down the menus.
“Thank you,” Dumbledore nodded as they all sat down. “It’s your special day, my boy, so order whatever you’d like.”
Severus eagerly picked up a menu, only to gasp and pale as he saw the prices. He set it down, his stomach dropping. This was too expensive. They shouldn’t be spending so much money on him!
“What’s wrong, child?” McGonagall asked, concerned.
“It’s too expensive. You shouldn’t be wasting money like this on me,” Severus insisted, his eyes glued to his lap. “We can go somewhere cheaper.” He heard a sigh, and then a hand was grasping his chin, forcing him to meet his guardian’s eyes.
“We just talked about this, my boy,” Dumbledore reminded him quietly, “and if you keep insisting that you’re not worth it, then you’ll find yourself writing lines to teach you otherwise. We don’t normally splurge like this, but today is your birthday, and you deserve something special. Understood?”
Severus chewed on his bottom lip. “A-Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Dumbledore declared, picking up the menu and placing it back in his hands. “Now, you just ignore those prices and choose whichever ridiculously sugary and unhealthy breakfast you’d like, as your Aunt Minnie would say.”
His tension draining away, Severus giggled as his godmother huffed and lightly smacked his guardian on the arm.
“Honestly, Albus, if you didn’t eat so many lemon drops every day, I wouldn’t need to scold you about your sugar intake,” McGonagall retorted.
“But Minerva,” Dumbledore started to protest, only to quickly return to his menu as he noticed the waiter coming over. Severus watched with amusement, having already decided what he wanted to get.
After their orders were placed, his guardian turned to him with a playful twinkle in his eyes. “So, you’re thirteen now, my boy. How’s it feel to be a teenager? Should we expect a sudden burst in maturity?”
Severus’ cheeks tinged pink. He didn’t really feel any different than he had the previous day. Was he supposed to stop getting into as much trouble now that he was officially a teenager? He did seem to end up in detention rather often.
Minerva rolled her eyes. “Albus is just teasing you. Merlin knows he hasn’t grown up yet, and he’s much older than you.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “Well, there’s no denying that,” he acquiesced to Severus’ amusement. His guardian did tend to act like a kid sometimes.
The food arrived soon after, and Severus eagerly dug into his deluxe brioche French toast. It was divine. The sweet yet slightly tart berries complemented the rich buttery flavor of the brioche perfectly, and it was all he could do to not moan out loud.
“Enjoying your food?” McGonagall asked as she took a bite of her croque madame.
Severus nodded enthusiastically. “It’s amazing! Thank you both for treating me. This is the best birthday gift ever.”
Dumbledore smiled. “We’re glad you’re enjoying it, my boy. We have a few additional surprises for you as well.” Seeing Severus’ astonished yet excited expression, he continued. “Now that you’re thirteen, your godmother and I have decided to give you an allowance. You’ll be given permission to visit Hogsmeade starting next year, and I suspect you’ll want to experience the delights of Honeydukes and the prank shops along with the rest of your peers. Not that we condone pranks, of course,” he added hastily at McGonagall’s stern look.
“An allowance?” Severus gasped. “Really?” He’d never had an allowance before! Money had been tight at Spinner’s End, and what little they’d had after groceries had always gone to Tobias’ alcohol. He did remember that the children from wealthier families, such as the Evans, had always seemed to have pocket money whenever the ice cream truck came through the neighborhood, but he’d never imagined that he would one day be in the same situation.
“It will be a weekly allowance,” McGonagall explained further. “Every week you will receive a galleon to do with as you please, although misbehavior may result in not receiving your allowance for a particular week.”
“Thank you!” Severus breathed ecstatically, hardly able to believe it. An entire galleon every week? He still had over five years left of Hogwarts which meant that if he behaved and his guardian ended up keeping him for that long, he would have around 300 galleons! Now, that wasn’t anywhere near what he would need to fund his potions mastery, especially once he accounted for the cost of supplies for his remaining school years, but it was definitely a start.
“And just to be clear, as your guardian, I will continue to pay for your Hogwarts-related needs such as new clothes and school supplies,” Dumbledore added, eyeing Severus like he knew exactly what he’d just been thinking. “This money is meant to be for your pleasure and enjoyment—any frivolous purchases that you might like to make.”
Severus swallowed gratefully. While he appreciated the opportunity, he didn’t plan to make any frivolous purchases if he could save that much more towards his dream career path.
“I would also like to discuss the matter of the Prince inheritance.” Dumbledore cleared his throat uncomfortably. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the first-born child of a pureblood line will typically receive an heir ring when they turn thirteen and an inheritance when they come of age. Unfortunately, I was informed by the goblins that the Prince title was passed to a distant cousin in France. It appears that your mother declined your late grandparents’ offer to make you their heir, which I believe you already know.”
“It happened when I was ten. Mum told me when she refused their offer,” Severus commented quietly. He’d been devastated and furious when his mother had informed him of her decision, seeing as the Prince trust vault alone would have been enough to lift them from a life of poverty to one of luxury, but no amount of begging or pleading had changed her mind. All she’d told him was that he was an ungrateful brat for wanting to take the gold of the bastards who’d disowned her and disrespected his father. “She said I wasn’t allowed to have anything to do with them,” he added after a moment of silence.
“I see. I am sorry to hear that you were not given a say in the decision,” Dumbledore responded softly.
Severus shrugged. “It’s okay. I know that my grandparents were blood purists and only asked because I was the last of the direct line, not because they actually wanted me as their heir.” He would have been beyond grateful for their money, but he hadn’t been under any delusions that they’d actually cared for him.
Seeing the adults’ looks of pained sympathy, he sighed. “Look, I won’t deny that I wanted the Prince inheritance, but I’ve had three years to come to terms with this. Besides, I get my own allowance now! Just think of the mayhem Peeves could cause with a galleon’s worth of dungbombs every week,” he mused mischievously, eliciting a chuckle from his guardian. His godmother was not nearly as amused, and the teenager yelped when his spoon suddenly levitated into the air and bopped him on the nose.
“If you even think about that, you will be in detention until the day you graduate,” McGonagall threatened, waving a stern finger at him.
Severus smothered a giggle and nodded. Despite his godmother’s tone, he could see the hidden mirth in her eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”
“And as for you, Albus,” she said, whirling to face his clearly amused guardian. “You better behave as well, or I’ll take away all of your lemon drops!”
Dumbledore gasped and clutched his hand against his heart. “Not my lemon drops! Anything but that, Minni—er Minerva,” he begged dramatically, sneaking a wink at Severus.
McGonagall rolled her eyes. “Children, the both of you. At least one of you has the excuse of actually being a child,” she huffed fondly. “Anyway, Severus, going back to what we were discussing before regarding your lack of inheritance—it has come to our attention that you seem rather concerned about having enough money after graduating Hogwarts. Is that correct?”
Severus fidgeted awkwardly. It was true that he was saving every knut that he could get his hands on. During his first year, he could often be found selling his notes to other students, tutoring them in potions, or selling the potions that he’d illicitly brewed for a few galleons. Before he’d become the headmaster’s ward, he’d even written the occasional potions essay for a few of his lazy but rich housemates.
“Severus?” McGonagall prompted.
“Yes, that’s correct,” Severus admitted. “But getting an allowance will make things so much easier,” he hurried to say. “I’m really grateful, truly!”
“So, your plan is to save your weekly allowance for your future after Hogwarts,” Dumbledore remarked knowingly.
“I want to apply for a potions mastery after I graduate, so I need to save up the funds,” Severus insisted determinedly. “Programs cost around 2000 galleons if you’re accepted to apprentice with a reputable master. My education and career are more important than some sweets and a few prank items.”
McGonagall exchanged a significant look with his guardian. “Yes, and we’re very proud of you for working hard on your studies and prioritizing your education. We were very pleased with your end of term grades,” she praised. “However, you also deserve the chance to be a child and experience the material joys of childhood without worrying about your future. We are fortunate that we can make both a possibility for you.”
Severus’ eyebrows scrunched together as he looked between the two adults, searching for clues. “I don’t understand.”
“Perhaps this will help,” Dumbledore said, reaching into his robe pocket and unshrinking a black box with an emerald green bow. “Open it, my boy.”
Severus took it hesitantly and pulled on the bow, the silk fabric easily falling away from the box. Lifting up the top, he found a necklace with a small gold key ornament sitting on top of elegantly arranged tissue paper. “Oh, um, thank you. It’s very nice,” he said politely, feeling extremely confused as to how this was related to anything.
“Do you know what it is?” McGonagall asked with a wry smirk.
“Erm, a necklace?” Severus questioned slowly, eyeing his godmother with a strange look. Maybe she wasn’t feeling well?
Dumbledore chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it is a necklace by definition. That is not its only function, however. This is a gift from both your godmother and myself. It will magically activate when you come of age and will be the key, if you’ll forgive my pun, to funding your mastery.”
Severus stared at him in utter bewilderment. Okay, so there was the bad dad joke, but what on earth did his guardian mean, ‘the necklace was the key to funding his mastery’? Was he supposed to sell it or something? The gold couldn’t be worth that much. Or maybe it was some secret metaphorical message? Maybe he should have paid more attention in his muggle English classes. “Uh… well, thank you very much. I really appreciate it. This will be super useful in the future,” he said, nodding his head repeatedly and smiling like he actually had a clue what was going on.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” McGonagall exclaimed, taking the necklace out of the box. “Severus, this is a key to a Gringotts vault in your name.”
Oh. Severus facepalmed, hiding his bright red face in his hands as the adults laughed. He was the biggest dunderhead on the planet. Of course, the key wasn’t just a necklace decoration! “Thank you,” he said sincerely, his face still flushed. “Having a Gringotts vault to put my savings in will be great.” He’d forgotten that the goblins charged a rather hefty fee to open up a new bank account, so this was a very welcome gift. “What is it now?” he almost whined, hearing his guardian groan and his godmother sigh loudly.
“We didn’t just get you an empty vault,” McGonagall shook her head in exasperation. “This key is literally how you will access the funds you need for your mastery. There are 5,000 galleons waiting for you in your vault once you come of age.”
Severus’ eyes bulged, his jaw slackening in utter disbelief. “F-Five t-thousand galleons?!” he stuttered weakly. That was enough to see him through his mastery and living comfortably for at least half a decade after graduating! This was… this was unreal. He would never have to worry about living on the streets or going hungry again. This had quite literally changed the entire course of his life. “I… t-thank y-you,” he managed to choke out, his eyes filling with tears as his godmother pulled him against her side. “Thank you so much. This is unbelievable. You have no idea how much this means to me,” he said thickly.
“You’re very welcome,” Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. “There is one last surprise left,” he said softly after a moment.
Severus shook his head, overwhelmed. “No, I can’t accept anything else. This is already too much,” he croaked, wiping away his tears.
“It’s not a monetary gift.”
There was something in his guardian’s tone that he couldn’t quite decipher, but whatever it was, Severus could tell that it was important. “What is it?” he asked tentatively.
“I don’t know if you remember, as you were a bit delirious at the time,” Dumbledore began delicately. “But yesterday, you called me Dad.”
Severus closed his eyes. Of course, he remembered. He had never called anyone ‘Dad’ in his entire life. Tobias had always been ‘sir’ or very rarely ‘Father,’ if the man had been in an exceptionally good mood. But for some reason, he had called Dumbledore ‘Dad,’ his delirious self recognizing that he viewed and wanted the man as his dad, even as his conscious self furiously denied it the next morning. He had vowed to forget about it and never bring it up again, knowing full well that his guardian was just that. A guardian, not a parent. The man didn’t want the burden of a son for the rest of his life.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered, his eyes still clenched shut. His kept them closed, even as a familiar hand enveloped his own.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Dumbledore answered almost sharply.
Severus’ head shot up anxiously at the tone, but his guardian’s eyes held nothing but warmth and fondness.
“It was unexpected, yes,” the man continued in a softer voice, “but it was the best surprise I could have ever asked for.”
Severus opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came out. It couldn’t be true. Dumbledore couldn’t want him, a scrawny, short-tempered, sarcastic, troublemaking teenager calling him Dad. Because that would imply that the man viewed him as his son. And that was impossible.
“No, it’s not,” Dumbledore countered quietly.
Severus paled as he realized he’d accidentally muttered his thoughts aloud. “I… but… you can’t.”
“I’m afraid I must disagree with you,” Dumbledore stated solemnly, “as I have indeed come to think of you as my son. And I would be honored to make that official, if that’s what you would also like. Look under the tissue paper, please.”
With a trembling hand, Severus lifted the tissue paper out of the box, his eyes falling on the official-looking bundle of parchment sitting underneath. Skimming the first page, he inhaled sharply. These were adoption papers—specifically, an application for one Severus Tobias Snape to officially become the son of Albus Dumbledore and the godson of Minerva McGonagall. He swallowed hard, not bothering to wipe away the tears that had started trickling down his cheeks again. “This is a joke,” he forced out shakily, even though deep inside, he knew that it wasn’t. “It’s a joke. Right?”
“No, it is not,” Dumbledore promised earnestly. “I truly wish to adopt you.”
“But why?” Severus choked out. “I’m nothing but trouble. You’ll get tired of me.”
“No, I won’t. Because you are so much more than just trouble,” Dumbledore insisted passionately, holding him by the chin so that he wouldn’t look away. “You are intelligent, inquisitive, caring, passionate, and loyal to those you care about. Those are all wonderful qualities, and I love that you have them. But I also love your sarcasm, your snarky wit and sharp tongue, the sparkle you get in your eyes when you’re planning mischief, and the fire in your spirit. I don’t want a perfect child, Severus. I want you, and everything that comes along with it.”
Severus was crying freely now, held up only by McGonagall’s steadying arm around his waist and Dumbledore’s gentle grip under his chin. This was real. He didn’t know how, but it was. His guardian really wanted him.
“Will you allow me to adopt you, Severus?” Dumbledore whispered, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Will you let me become your forever family?”
Severus leaned forward and buried his face in the strong, comforting chest, his eyes closing as the man’s arms wrapped around him. He took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of lemon drops, parchment, and safety. “Dad,” he breathed, almost too quietly to hear.
“Is… Is that a yes?” Dumbledore asked hopefully.
Severus nodded and looked up, smiling through his tears. “It’s a yes.”
Chapter Text
Spring had finally come, bringing with it both warmer days and the much-anticipated end of midterm exams. It had been a busy few months since his birthday, and Severus and his study group mates were glad to finally have a break. To celebrate, the four of them had decided to throw a sleepover party in the Room of Requirement. Severus and Remus had built a massive blanket fort for the occasion, and Lily and Alice had managed to convince the house elves to set up an ice cream sundae bar. The dress code was pajamas and BYOP (bring your own pillow), an essential for the epic pillow fight they planned to have. It would be boys versus girls with the winning team getting first dibs on sleeping arrangements. Determined not to lose his cauldron bean bag to Lily, who would likely try to claim it just to tease him, Severus had found the largest pillow he could get his hands on. It was in this state, dressed in pajamas and tiptoeing down the corridor with a giant, hippogriff-shaped pillow clutched to his chest, that he heard a familiar voice.
“Going somewhere, my boy?”
Faltering in his tracks, Severus slowly turned around. “Professor, erm, fancy seeing you here,” he said, sheepishly scratching the back of his head.
“Indeed, quite a surprise, hmm? And where might you be headed at such a late hour, if I may ask?” Dumbledore questioned, glancing at Severus’ pillow with a twinkle in his eye.
Severus shot his soon-to-be dad an unimpressed look, almost certain that the man already knew exactly where he was heading and with whom he was meeting. His guardian somehow always seemed to know those sorts of things.
Chuckling at the look he received, Dumbledore continued. “Now normally, as you know quite well, a student caught out of bed after curfew would necessitate detention. However, it appears that I have temporarily forgotten that it is past curfew and thus have no reason to think that you are breaking any school rules. Alas,” he lamented, “it must be my old age.”
Severus’ face broke into a grin. “Really? You’re not even going to take points?”
Dumbledore reached out to ruffle his hair, ignoring his half-hearted protests. “Not this time. Have fun with your friends, my boy, you’ve earned it. But don’t let your Aunt Minerva catch you, or we’ll both be in trouble.”
Both shuddered at the memory of the last time they’d been caught conspiring together by his godmother. Thoroughly fed up with the ministry-appointed DADA professor’s derogatory comments about werewolves, Severus had decided to get revenge on Remus’ behalf by slipping a flatulence potion into the man’s goblet during dinner. The ministry lackey had passed gas so loudly that the Great Hall had gone silent, students and staff alike turning to stare. The man had tried to deny that it was him, but every time he’d tried to speak, an uncontrollable PPFFFFT would escape his posterior. Eventually, face redder than a tomato, the professor had fled. Severus and his friends had been quite satisfied with the lack of vitriol the man spewed after his own experience with an uncontrollable condition.
The only downside was that McGonagall had somehow managed to trace the prank back to its source. It only got worse when she figured out that it had been Dumbledore who’d purchased the ingredients for him, knowing full well what he’d planned to do. The two had pleaded their case, but while she’d agreed with their motives, it hadn’t been enough to spare the two wizards from an ear blistering lecture.
“I didn’t think she was ever going to release us,” Severus admitted, shaking his head at the memory.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if we were only spared from a longer lecture because the elves had made banoffee pie for dessert and she didn’t want to miss it,” Dumbledore agreed with an amused smile.
Severus snorted lightly. “I’ll have to thank the house elves later. Anyway, I should go before the others start to worry. Thanks for not taking points, Dad,” he said shyly.
He blushed as Dumbledore beamed at him in response.
“You’re welcome, son. Off you go now, you don’t want to miss the celebration.”
Running quite a bit late at this point, Severus hurried down the hall, a small smile on his face. Despite having known of his guardian’s intention to adopt him ever since January, it was only within the past few weeks that he’d felt comfortable enough to start calling him ‘Dad.’ It was difficult to say the word without feeling vulnerable, but there was something about the pure joy and fondness in Dumbledore’s eyes whenever he called him ‘Dad’ that always made it worth it.
Technically, the adoption wasn’t official yet and wouldn’t be until the end of the school year when Tobias’ trial happened, but Dumbledore had assured him that there wouldn’t be any trouble with the papers being approved. It was simply a legal matter of having to wait until Tobias lost custody and all visitation rights, something that could only be granted by the judge when they went to court. Severus had fearfully brought up the possibility of his biological father being found not guilty, but his guardian had told him in no uncertain terms that even if Tobias denied the accusations, the evidence spoke for itself. His father would never hurt him again.
It was after this embarrassingly emotional chat that Severus realized there were only two things that could prevent the adoption from happening—either his own refusal or Dumbledore changing his mind. To his surprise, he was no longer as worried about the latter as he thought he’d be. Ever since the headmaster had taken over his guardianship, he’d feared nothing more than getting attached and then rejected. But even after seven months of testing every boundary and breaking every school rule he could think of, Dumbledore still wanted to adopt him. Probably the only thing that could make the man change his mind was if Severus got arrested or something, and he had no intention of that ever happening.
His guardian had also promised that even if Severus decided against the adoption, the vault he’d been gifted for his birthday was legally in his name and would remain so regardless. The thirteen-year-old hadn’t realized how much his anxiety about surviving after graduation had affected him, but now that he no longer had to worry, it was a huge weight off his shoulders. He would forever be grateful to his soon-to-be dad and godmother for their generosity.
Lily had been ecstatic to hear the news, and after a little nudging, Severus had told Remus and Alice as well. He’d been wary of their reactions, scared that they might think him undeserving and spoiled, but the two had responded with nothing but happiness for him. It was a far cry from his housemates who only cared about the ways in which he could be useful, and he was reminded again of how happy he was to have the three Gryffindors as friends.
“Sev, you finally made it!” Lily exclaimed as he slipped into the Room of Requirement.
“Blimey mate, we were worried you’d been caught by Filch and were getting strung up in the dungeons with how long you were taking,” Remus teased.
Severus arched an eyebrow. “Yes, I can see that you were quite worried,” he drawled amusedly, nodding pointedly at the ice cream cone the other boy held in his hand.
“Well, we all know that there isn’t anything that can get between Remus and his chocolate,” Alice smirked, rolling her eyes.
“For Merlin’s sake, is that chocolate ice cream with hot fudge, chocolate chunks, and chocolate sprinkles on top?” Severus asked in disbelief, eyeing the towering contraption more closely.
Remus sighed dramatically and shook his head. “Some people just don’t know good taste when they see it,” he lamented to his ice cream cone. “Chocolate is the best food on the planet, and I will die on this hill.”
“Well, you certainly won’t be sleeping on it with all that chocolate,” Lily grinned.
“Yeah, good thing it’s Saturday tomorrow,” Severus added with a matching grin.
“Do you think we’ll need to have an intervention?” Alice joked.
The three burst into giggles as they were pelted with marshmallows.
“Shut it, you gits,” Remus huffed with mock indignation. “Stop criticizing my masterpiece, and go make your own sundaes.”
Laughing, Severus picked up a dish and started to scoop the ice cream. The cookie crumbles were calling his name.
Just outside of the Room of Requirement, a tall, blonde-haired Slytherin schemed from the shadows. He had seen Severus’ potential from the beginning and had protected the half-blood brat for over a year, recognizing the brilliance that his pureblood peers had failed to see. He had planned to groom the boy into the perfect Death Eater, and once the boy was old enough, present him to the Dark Lord as a talented potions prodigy recruit, something that was sure to gain him his Lord’s favor despite the boy’s blood status. But Severus had repaid his patronage with betrayal and had gone running to Dumbledore instead, and the Dark Lord hadn’t been pleased to hear that the potions prodigy he’d been promised had deflected.
Embarrassment flooded the pale cheeks as he recalled the humiliation of having his ancient and noble family name mocked by his Master. He was now being ordered to prove that he was worthy of his Lord’s mark since he couldn’t even manage to convince a mere child to serve their cause. His eyes darkened in anger. He had been disgraced and humiliated in front of the Inner Circle that was his birthright, and it was all that lowly, half-blood brat’s fault.
He wasn’t foolish enough to hurt the little traitor right under the headmaster’s nose like his stupid future sister-in law, though. Their Lord had been furious that Bellatrix had gotten herself arrested and had ordered his followers to leave her in Azkaban as punishment until she could be useful. Luckily, the Dark Lord had not yet marked her, so the ministry hadn’t found the Dark Mark that she would have been gifted with in just a few short months. They had been lenient due to her age and had only confined her to a lower level of Azkaban, one that didn’t have dementors. Thank Merlin, for the last thing they needed was an even more insane Bellatrix. He was quite relieved that his betrothed hadn’t inherited the Black madness.
Tapping his wand against his leg, the Slytherin smirked cruelly as an idea came to him. The next day was a student Hogsmeade trip during which the Dark Lord had planned a raid on the village. The Lord himself would not be there, but the majority of his Death Eaters and student recruits would be participating. And what better revenge was there than to frame the headmaster’s very own ward? It would certainly paint the muggle-loving fool in a bad light when his soon-to-be son was arrested for setting shops on fire and attacking an auror, especially if that Skeeter reporter got ahold of the story. And blemishing Dumbledore’s image and credibility along with getting Severus arrested would be an excellent way of both getting revenge on the brat and proving to his Lord that he was worthy of their cause.
He leaned against the shadowed wall, his mind working through the details of the plan. The boy would have to be seen willingly working with the Death Eaters to destroy and terrify the masses, and there was only one way to make sure that happened without implicating himself. The clocktower chimed, but he paid it little mind as he kept vigil outside of the Room of Requirement. His patience would pay off. He was sure of it.
His efforts were finally rewarded just as the first rays of sunlight started flickering through the castle windows. The mudblood left first, followed a minute later by the Fortescue heiress and the Lupin boy. Then, Severus emerged, and after a cautious glance around, crept towards the Slytherin common room. He followed closely behind, covered in a disillusionment charm strong enough to hide him from any detection spells the second year might try.
At last, they reached the dungeon corridor that he had been waiting for. This was one of the few places in the castle that didn’t have portraits hanging on the walls—spies that could tell that headmaster if they heard or saw anything suspicious. This is why he had waited hours for the brats to emerge, because it was here that there were no absolutely no witnesses to even suspect what he was about to do.
Taking out his wand, Lucius Malfoy’s mouth twisted into a smug smirk. With a twist of his wand, he whispered a single word.
“Imperio.”
Severus left breakfast the next morning feeling inexplicably relaxed. It was as if he was floating; every worry in his head had vanished, leaving nothing but a lingering aura of happiness behind. Ambling out of the Great Hall, he absently noticed a large group of students streaming outside, most likely to the courtyard where the professors chaperoning the Hogsmeade trip were waiting. Being too young to explore the village, the second year would normally spend these days exploring the castle grounds with his friends. This time, however, he found himself wandering into a specific corridor of the dungeons. He wasn’t sure why his feet were leading him there, but any uncertainly left his mind as quickly as it had entered.
“Abscondo,” a hushed voice muttered.
Severus blinked as he felt an egg being cracked over his head. He tilted his head as he watched his body fade into the surroundings, leaving him essentially invisible. How interesting. An arm gripped his own harshly and tugged him forward, but he hardly noticed as he blithely followed his invisible guide into the courtyard with all the other students. It seemed that he was going to Hogsmeade.
The walk to the village was short, although he didn’t get to see much of it before he was pulled into a side alley hidden from view. A wand tapped his head, and suddenly he was visible again. He stood there motionlessly, staring blankly at the cobblestone wall. Waiting, although for what, he wouldn’t have been able to say.
“MORSMORDRE!”
There was a sharp inhale beside him, and a giant emerald skull with a snake poised to strike shot into the air, hovering in the sky a little ways away from them. Severus briefly thought he recognized the symbol but didn’t think any further on it.
“That’s the signal. They’re here now,” a familiar voice muttered, sounding a bit nervous. “Remember, you will set every shop that you see on fire, and you will act like you’re enjoying it. If anyone tries to fight back, you will defend yourself until you can take cover. Once they are no longer a threat, you will continue on your mission. At some point, the Dark Mark will appear in the sky again. After this happens, you will cast a bone breaking curse at the first auror you see. The imperius will then cease to be effective and you will regain control of your mind. You will remember that you set the shops on fire and attacked the auror, but nothing else. Now go!”
Severus nodded and strode calmly through the panicking crowds, only dimly registering the screams and cries in the background. Seeing what was clearly a shop, he smiled widely. “Incendio maxima!” The shop burst into flames, and he laughed loudly as a group of wizards and witches ran out of the building screaming. He absently noted a look of horror on their faces as they caught sight of him, but he had no reason to wonder why. There were many more shops in sight, and he was to set them all on fire. Methodically continuing down the street, he set shop upon shop on fire, not even noticing the searing heat of the flames. It wasn’t until he reached a small, dingy-looking pub at the end of the row that he was finally met with a threat.
“Not on my watch, Death Eater!” a man who looked remarkably like Dumbledore roared before sending a stunner hurtling towards him.
Severus dove behind the closest building, scrambling through a broken window to hide. The Dumbledore look-alike ran past him a moment later, not noticing his hiding place. The threat now gone, he straightened up. He was to continue setting shops on fire. Making his way towards the door, he paused when he heard a familiar shout.
“Morsmordre!”
Peering out the window, Severus watched as the Dark Mark burst into the air followed by the telltale cracks of apparition. He hummed as the figures wearing dark hoods and skeletal masks disappeared from the screaming crowds. Scanning the remaining occupants, his eyes landed on a nearby wizard with a wooden leg, a fake eye, and— auror robes . Without a second of hesitation, Severus’ wand was aimed. “Ossio dispersimus,” he hissed. The bone breaking curse flew from his wand but was blocked by the auror’s hastily conjured shield just in time. The man’s swirling eye locked with his own gaze within a millisecond.
“Death Eater at 2 o’clock!” the auror bellowed with a snarl, slashing his wand through the air.
The next moment, Severus was slammed into the wall by a jet of red light. A pained grunt escaped his lips, and he collapsed onto the floor, his vision going momentarily black. Groggily, he peeled himself off the ground and blinked blearily. What had just happened? Had Black somehow snuck into Hogwarts to attack him?
Wait a second. None of the Hogwarts rooms were charred and burned like they’d been set on fire. And there was no reason for the entire student body to be hysterically screaming. Bewildered and panicked, Severus scrambled to his feet and looked out the window. Was he… was he in Hogsmeade? Why was everything on fire or burnt to a crisp? Was that the Dark Mark in the sky? And why were three aurors ferociously charging towards him?
Suddenly, it hit him like the Hogwarts Express. He gasped in horror. He was the one who had set all of those buildings on fire. It had been him who had attacked the auror with the bone breaking curse. Petrified, Severus searched frantically for an escape route. He couldn’t remember a single thing besides casting the spells, but he knew that that alone was enough to condemn him to Azkaban. He had helped the Death Eaters and assaulted an auror; there was no defense for that.
The front door barged open, and Severus bolted for the stairs, just barely managing to avoid the spell that flew over his head as he scrambled to the second-floor landing.
“First floor is secured, Moody,” one of the aurors shouted.
Severus’ stomach dropped in fear. He knew that name. Not only was Mad-Eye Moody the best auror on the force, he was also a friend of Dumbledore’s. He had seen the man in his guardian’s office whenever they had those secret meetings that he wasn’t supposed to know about. Squinting through the smoke, he thought the two red-haired aurors also looked vaguely familiar.
“Drop your wand and kneel on the ground, hands behind your head,” Moody barked. “Now!”
Severus ignored the order, adrenaline acting as fuel as he desperately sought out the emergency exit. While the smoke had mostly cleared from the first floor, the second floor was still dense with fumes, making it hard to see and breathe. He coughed, crawling clumsily in the direction of where he’d seen the emergency exit. It had to be coming up soon… and then it slammed shut right in front of him. “No!” he choked out desperately. Dragging himself forward, he scrabbled at the charred wood of the door, trying to open it. But the aurors had sealed it too tightly.
“You’re under arrest for arson and attacking an auror,” Moody’s voice thundered from below. “Come down! It's over!”
Severus frantically looked for another way out, but there was none. He was stuck between the locked door and the raging smoke filling the second floor. It would make short work of him if he kept breathing it in for much longer. His lungs already protesting, he gripped his wand tightly in hand and jumped over the banister, hoping to land and escape through one of the broken windows.
He might have made it relatively unharmed if it hadn’t been for the spell that flew from Moody’s wand, hitting him mid-air. Spun around and thrown backwards, Severus landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, the wind knocked out of him at the impact. His fingers loosened, and his wand clattered out of his hand.
“Get him, Fabian!” Moody shouted.
A shadow loomed above him. Acting on instinct, he lunged after his lost wand in a last-ditch attempt to escape.
“Bad idea,” growled another man’s voice.
Severus yelped as his arms were yanked behind his back and his wrists magically bound. He was roughly grabbed by the back of his neck and hauled to his feet, the hood that had fallen over his head pushed back.
“Bloody hell, you’re only a child.”
“L-Let me go!” Severus hollered at the auror, struggling with all his might.
“Mad Eye?” the auror holding him asked. No one had missed the waver in the child's voice. The boy was clearly terrified.
“Priori incantatem,” Moody muttered, tapping the confiscated ebony wand. The four of them watched wordlessly as the most recent spells floated out of his wand. Ossio dispersimus, incendio maxima, incendio maxima… the evidence was clear. “We’ll take him to the ministry and interrogate him. He has to be a Death Eater in disguise using polyjuice or something. No kid would willingly do this.”
“No, wait, I didn’t mean to, I swear! I’m sorry, please let me go!” Severus begged, flailing wildly in the auror’s grasp.
The auror holding him grunted as Severus’ foot connected solidly with his shin. “Listen kid, I’m trying to be considerate of your supposed young age, but one more kick, and I’ll be adding a count of resisting arrest to the charges you’re already facing.”
Severus didn’t hear him, fear making him frantic. He hadn’t meant to burn the buildings and attack Moody—he didn’t even know how he’d gotten into Hogsmeade in the first place! “No, please! I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean to hurt anyone! Please don’t throw me in Azkaban,” he wailed. He didn’t want to go to prison!
“For Merlin’s sake,” the auror holding him captive groaned as an elbow crashed into his stomach. “Grab his legs, would you Gideon?”
Severus started crying as the other red-headed auror deftly snagged his kicking legs, easily securing them in a tight hold. Then, the heavy hand resting on the back of his neck tightened, and he was being painfully forced through an excruciatingly tight tube. It was over in an instant, but he hardly noticed as he turned his head to the side and retched all over the floor. Gasping for breath, he barely noticed that someone was patting his back. “W-What the hell was that?” he choked out, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“That was apparition,” Moody grunted, vanishing the mess with a wave of his wand. “You can put him down, boys. Looks like our culprit is under age after all. No one can fake a reaction to first time apparition that realistically.”
“Ah, first time apparating, huh kid?” the auror named Fabian smirked. “Remember our first time, dear twin?”
“Sure do. Almost splinched ourselves, we did. But don’t sweat it, it gets easier with practice,” the other red-head auror finished with a wink.
Severus shuddered. If that was apparition, he didn’t even want to think about how awful it would be to splinch himself.
“Enough with the pleasantries, Prewitts,” Moody barked. “Underage or not, he’s still a suspect for arson and attacking an auror. I’ll take it from here now. I want the report of today’s events on my desk by the end of the day, got it?”
“Yes, sir,” the red-headed twins groaned before disappearing down the hall.
Severus’ panic was renewed as he was grabbed and frog marched into what was clearly an interrogation room. “Wait, no, please. I didn’t mean to, I swear!” he blubbered hysterically. His arms still restrained behind his back, he whimpered when a cold ring of metal encased his right wrist.
“Relashio.” The cuffs binding his wrists together disappeared.
Hesitating only long enough to process that his arms were free, Severus threw himself at the door. But the second his hand touched the doorknob, a red light flared from his wristband. He cried out as an invisible force shoved him backwards. Fearfully, he looked at the auror to see if he’d be punished for trying to escape, but Moody merely glared at him.
“Right then, now that we’ve established you won’t be leaving here without permission, take a seat,” Moody ordered.
His legs shaking, Severus silently obeyed. He clasped his hands tightly in his lap to hide their trembling. What could he say to defend himself? It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember anything except casting the spells themselves. There was no denying that he had been the one to burn down a good portion of Hogsmeade. Not to mention attacking an auror with a dark curse.
“What’s your name, boy? Since you’re a minor, we’ll be contacting your parents to come sit with you during the questioning.”
Severus wrung his hands anxiously. He couldn’t let them know that Dumbledore was his guardian. If that happened, the headmaster would be so disgusted to discover that his ward was practically a Death Eater that he was sure to break off the guardianship and leave him to the dementors. Would they put him in solitary confinement? Tobias had sometimes threatened to send him to prison, where despicable freaks like him would be put in straightjackets and then locked in the dark all alone forever. He would go insane in there! “P-Please sir,” he stuttered. “Please don’t send me to solitary! I’ll do anything, truly!” he promised, his voice rising to a hysterical pitch.
“Boy, calm down. No one is getting sent to solitary,” Moody responded gruffly. “Now answer my question, and we’ll get your parents in here to sort this out.”
Severus ducked his head and swallowed hard. Maybe he could tell a white lie? “My… My name is Tobias Prince,” he lied as convincingly as he could. “My mum is dead, and my father is a muggle.”
“Is that so,” Moody said deadpan. “Eyes up, boy!”
Severus’ head snapped up at the harsh bark.
“I’ll ask you one more time, and I want the truth this time, got it? What. Is. Your. Name?”
Severus’ heart sank. Moody hadn’t bought it. He had a feeling that if he lied again, the auror would find another way to get the truth out of him. He knew that Potter’s father was an auror who knew legilimency, so the rest of them probably did as well. “Snape. My name’s Severus Snape,” he whispered in defeat. He flinched as the auror’s chair screeched back.
“Bloody hell,” Moody swore under his breath. “I thought you looked familiar to someone else we had in custody. Albus better have a damn good explanation for this,” he muttered, limping out the door and closing it firmly behind him.
Severus froze. Had Moody been the one to arrest his father? Clearly, the auror recognized his name and knew that the headmaster was now his guardian. Wait, that meant Dumbledore was probably going to arrive any second now! How was he going to explain himself?
“Severus!” Dumbledore burst through the door, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Thank Merlin, you’re safe. We were absolutely terrified when you weren’t accounted for in the student headcount. Although I was expecting Fleamont to find you, not Alastor when I alerted the aurors.” He muttered the last part to himself while pulling the thirteen-year-old close to his chest.
Severus couldn’t help but bury his head into his guardian’s robes, letting his tears flow freely. Dumbledore was his safety blanket, and even though he knew the man wouldn’t want anything to do with him after he found out the truth, he was too selfish to not take advantage of the comfort and safety that was offered in the hug. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded in a muffled sob.
“Hush, son. I’m just glad you’re safe and that the aurors found you before the Death Eaters did,” Dumbledore murmured. He pulled away slightly, then frowned as he noticed the metal cuff encircling Severus’ wrist. “Why is my child cuffed like a criminal, Alastor?” he asked in such a cold tone that Severus felt shivers run down his spine.
“Did you get the reports on the state of the village after the Dark Mark went up?” Moody questioned gruffly.
“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, it was your child who was seen lighting the shops on fire. Not to mention the bone breaking curse he shot at me. His wand confirmed it. Your boy has a lot of explaining to do.”
There was a sharp inhale. “Severus?”
Severus lowered his eyes at the silence that fell, unable to meet his guardian’s eyes. He couldn’t bear to see the disgust and hatred in his would-have-been dad’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” was all he managed to whisper. “Please don’t send me to Azkaban.”
Dumbledore took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Look at me, please.”
Severus fearfully lifted his head, surprised at the lack of repulsion in his guardian’s eyes.
“First of all, I’m not letting you go anywhere, and especially not Azkaban,” Dumbledore insisted gently but firmly. “I know that you’re not guilty, but you need to tell us exactly what happened.”
Silent tears streaked down his cheeks, relief coursing through his body. There was no way his guardian would want to go through with the adoption after this, but at least he believed in Severus’ innocence. “I… I don’t know what happened,” he began stutteringly. “I remember going to breakfast this morning, and then heading back to the dungeons, and then suddenly I was in Hogsmeade. And I remember that I was lighting the shops on fire and that I used a bone breaking curse, but it was like I was watching a movie. And then suddenly, everything was real.”
Dumbledore exchanged a significant look with Moody. “The imperius curse. That description fits the effects of the curse almost perfectly. Someone was trying to frame him,” he murmured in a low voice.
“Aye, I agree,” Moody nodded. “The ministry is going to want evidence, though. Legilimency is the best way to prove his innocence. He’s too young to be proficient at occlumency, so they’ll accept a memory as evidence.”
Severus peeked up through wet eyelashes. “It… It wasn’t my fault then?” he asked in a small voice.
Dumbledore shook his head and maneuvered him so that he was sitting on his lap. “You would never willingly do something like this, my boy. I know that, and you know that, but the ministry doesn’t. Do you remember what legilimency is?”
Severus nodded. “Does Auror Moody need to do that on me?” he asked a bit nervously.
“It would be the easiest way to prove your innocence. It won’t hurt, I promise.”
“O-Okay. Anything to prove that I didn’t want to hurt those people.” Severus took a deep breath and slowly met the auror’s eyes. A whispered spell later, and a cloudy haze of memories was flying through his head.
“Good lad,” Moody praised, breaking eye contact. “He was definitely under the imperius curse. I’ll submit the memory I saw and let the appropriate officials know.” He tapped his wand against the metal cuff on Severus’ wrist, and it disappeared. “You’re free to go.”
“Thank you, Alastor,” Dumbledore nodded. Turning to Severus, he squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “Let’s go home, son.”
Back in their quarters, Severus clung tightly to his guardian, crying quietly as he finally had a chance to process what had happened. Even though it had been the imperius curse behind his actions, he had been the one weak enough to allow the spell to control him. And that weakness had cost him greatly. It seemed like Dumbledore was still willing to be his guardian, but the Leader of the Light certainly wouldn’t want a son whose actions had destroyed so many people’s lives.
“How about some dinner before bed, hmm?” Dumbledore suggested gently. “I’ll join you since I also missed dinner while searching the castle. What would you like to eat?”
Severus shifted so that he was sitting up by himself. He was rather hungry now that he thought about it. “Anything is fine, sir. Whatever the house elves already made for dinner is good,” he mumbled.
“I believe the entree from this evening was bangers and mash with green beans,” Dumbledore informed him. “Why don’t you go wash up first?”
Severus nodded and slid off the couch. “Yes, sir.”
Dumbledore frowned. “Why the sudden use of ‘sir’ again, my boy? What happened to Dad?”
Severus looked at him in confusion. “You… you can’t want to adopt me anymore after what happened today,” he whispered brokenly.
Dumbledore heaved a big sigh and took a hold of his shoulders, tugging him close. “Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, young man. Even though the paperwork isn’t filed yet, there is nothing you can do that will make me rescind this offer of adoption. Understood?”
Severus felt his eyes start to water again. “R-Really? You still want to be my dad?” he asked in a small but hopeful voice.
“Of course I do. Nothing in this universe could make me change my mind about wanting you as my son,” Dumbledore insisted. He hesitated, then looked deep into Severus’ eyes as if connecting with his very soul. “I… I love you, Severus,” he revealed softly.
Severus’ mouth fell open. “Y-You do?”
“I do.”
In an instant, Severus was throwing himself into his guardian’s arms. No adult had ever said that they’d loved him out loud before, not even his mum or dad before he’d started showing signs of accidental magic. Yet he had never stopped yearning for a parent’s love, even while inwardly berating himself for such a stupid desire, knowing full well that he was not worthy or deserving of it. But Dumbledore had just said those three magic words, words that he had dreamed of hearing for his entire life. Except this time, he wasn’t dreaming. This time, it was real. He pinched himself just to be sure. Yes, this was real.
Someone finally loved him.
Chapter Text
Severus bit back a groan of annoyance as he shoved his chair back and glared at his guardian. “I’m going to the loo, and I don’t need a chaperone,” he declared in a challenging tone.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to chuckle. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he responded placidly, willing to indulge the sulking child. That produced an even fiercer scowl on the boy's face.
“I wouldn’t put it past you. You’ve been smothering me worse than Aunt Minerva,” Severus grumbled. It had been two months since he’d been imperiused, but the investigation had yielded nothing, thanks to the minister’s refusal to allow aurors to interview the students. A decision prompted by a generous exchange of galleons, no doubt. As a result, Dumbledore had become unbearably protective. The teenager was essentially confined to his guardian’s quarters with the exception of classes and the library, both of which he had to be escorted to by a professor. If he wanted to go anywhere else or hang out with his friends, they either had to meet in the safety of their quarters or be supervised by an adult. The restrictions were worse than being grounded, and he wasn’t even being punished supposedly!
“Join me in the dining room once you’re finished, my boy. Dinner will be served soon,” was all Dumbledore said in response.
Severus huffed and stomped out of the room, muttering bitterly about overbearing adults. He was going to go absolutely bonkers if he was forced to take much more of this! After using the loo, he glanced in the direction of the dining room, then made a beeline for his bedroom. He had barely had a second to himself, and he was going to take one, damn it! Throwing himself face first into his pillow, the teenager let loose a string of muffled expletives. Why did his dad have to be so damn overprotective? No one would dare even look at him wrong these days with the amount of scrutiny he was under, much less attempt to curse him.
“Severus.” He heard his guardian’s voice followed by a knock on the door but dutifully ignored it.
“It’s time for dinner,” Dumbledore announced, sticking his head inside. “Come along.”
“I’m not hungry,” Severus refused, pointedly ignoring his stomach which protested rather loudly at the statement.
“I didn’t ask if you were hungry, although it’s clear that you are. I said it’s time for dinner, so you will accompany me to the dining room.”
“No. I won’t,” Severus said stubbornly, his head still buried in the duvet.
“Then you will spend tomorrow dusting and organizing the books in my study,” his guardian replied calmly.
Severus pushed himself up and glared indignantly. “But that’ll take all day!”
“Then I suggest you stop sulking and join me in the dining room for dinner,” Dumbledore ordered quietly, using the tone he knew the boy hated but that worked so well.
Not wanting to test his guardian and earn himself a day of detention, the teenager stormed past his dad into the dining room, keeping his mouth firmly shut. Stupid adults. Stupid Dumbledore. This was all bloody ridiculous.
“I understand that these restrictions are difficult for you, but they are only meant to keep you safe. This won’t last forever, I promise,” his guardian sighed, noting the teenager’s rather vexed body language.
Severus shoved a forkful of salad into his mouth. “How long is it going to last then?” he returned petulantly. “It’s already been two whole months. It’s not bloody fair.”
“No, it isn’t,” Dumbledore acknowledged regretfully, ignoring his language. “It had been my hope to keep the war outside of the castle walls, but that has unfortunately become impossible. We were fortunate that Voldemort did not order his Death Eaters to abduct you when you were placed under the imperius curse. However, I suspect things have changed now that he comprehends just how much leverage he would have against me should he capture you. He undoubtedly has his Death Eaters, whether marked or not, looking to seize this opportunity. In addition to ensuring your safety for obvious reasons, it has also become a necessity for the war.”
Severus moodily stabbed a carrot. That was all fine and dandy, but it didn’t make dealing with all the restrictions any better. “You can’t just keep me trapped here forever, you know. I’m not some artifact you can keep protected by locking it up in a Gringotts vault,” he said sullenly.
“I am truly sorry, my boy. I understand that you are the one who has to suffer the worst consequences of this, and I am very proud of how maturely you have been handling everything. I will not be lifting the restrictions yet, though. I cannot allow myself to be in a position where I have to choose between you and winning the war. It should only be a month more at most,” Dumbledore said with a tone of finality. “Now finish your dinner, please.”
Severus silently chewed, a dark scowl masking his face. An entire month more? There was no way he could put up with this for that much longer. And what if the war didn’t end then? Did Dumbledore expect him to obediently twiddle his thumbs, never leaving the castle for the rest of his years at Hogwarts? “I could just sneak out, you know,” he mumbled rebelliously.
His guardian froze mid-forkful. “What did you just say?”
Severus shivered at the frosty look drilling into the back of his head but didn’t back down. “I said that I could just sneak out. I’d find a way,” he said, raising his chin with more confidence than he felt.
Dumbledore closed his eyes and didn’t speak for a minute. Severus crossed his arms, mustering up all of his courage and defiance. What was the worst the man could do? Forbid him from seeing his friends? Make him clean things? He was already under twice as many restrictions as he was when actually grounded.
When the headmaster opened his eyes again, they were a stormy, powerful blue that made the teenager remember exactly why this was the only man the Dark Lord feared. “Do not force me to take even more drastic measures,” Dumbledore warned in barely more than a whisper. “I will do whatever is necessary to protect you until this war is over, and if you hate me for it, then I will be forced to live with that. But at least you’ll be alive to hate me.”
“Well maybe I already do,” Severus shot back, frustrated and upset. His eyes widened in shock as he belatedly heard the words that had flown from his mouth, guilt pooling in his stomach at the flicker of pain in his guardian’s eyes. “I… I didn’t mean—” He was interrupted as a silver lynx pranced into the room.
“Albus we’ve got it. Order meeting requested immediately. Please confirm,” a male voice intoned.
Dumbledore stood up abruptly. “ Expecto patronum . My office in five minutes. Alert the others. The phoenix is rising.”
“Dad?” Severus asked, uncertain. He had never seen his guardian looking so grave.
Dumbledore turned to face him. “I have to go. Do not leave these quarters without my permission or your godmother’s. Promise me.”
Frightened by the expression on his guardian’s face, Severus nodded. “I promise.”
“Good boy.” A warm hand squeezed his shoulder, and then the headmaster was sweeping away. Severus heard the door to their quarters close with a quiet thud.
His heart racing, he abandoned his dinner and dashed over to the connecting wall between their quarters and the headmaster’s office. He doubted Dumbledore knew, but between two of the stone blocks that formed the wall, there was a small crack just large enough to see through. Dropping to his knees, he pressed his face against the opening. Gathered in the office were his guardian, godmother, Auror Moody, Potter’s parents, and a handful of other people he didn’t recognize. He squinted for a better look as Dumbledore ran his wand over a shining golden cup with a badger engraved on its surface.
“This is it indeed,” the headmaster murmured. “Stand back, everyone.” After making sure everyone was a safe distance away, he twisted his wand in a complicated motion. “Fiendfyre.”
Severus gasped quietly as a fiery phoenix erupted from the headmaster’s wand and swallowed the cup in one large gulp. A high-pitched, inhumane scream pierced the air, and then the cup fell to the floor, charred and melted. He watched in awe as his guardian wrestled for control of the phoenix, managing to subdue it with barely a drop of sweat.
“It’s done,” Dumbledore said, breathing heavily.
“That’s the last of them, then,” Moody said roughly. “The cup, diary, diadem, ring, and locket. He hasn’t had a chance to make that bloody snake into one yet, thank Merlin.”
Everyone’s heads snapped up as the door burst open and the red-headed auror twins, the Prewitts if he remembered correctly, strode in, looking grave. “We just got intel from our spy. Voldemort plans to take control of the ministry tonight.”
There was a collective sharp inhale, the tension palpable even from behind the small crack that Severus was peering through. Each adult had an indecipherable look in their eyes. Maybe it was wary yet resolved. A hidden strength with a hint of fear.
“Albus?” McGonagall asked in a whisper. “Is it time?”
Dumbledore looked around solemnly. “It is time. Minerva, please alert Filius that he is now acting headmaster until our return, and that lockdown should be initiated as soon as he gets the signal. Everyone else, I will see you at the ministry as soon as possible. Voldemort will not be expecting us. This is our chance to end this, once and for all.”
Severus felt the blood drain from his face as he pulled away from the wall with a strangled gasp. The objects Moody had listed—he had spotted them throughout the year in his guardian’s possession but had always thought them nothing but damaged artifacts. Evidently though, they had been connected to the Dark Lord in some way. And now that they were all destroyed, the Light side was planning to confront the psychopath in what sounded like a final stand.
Hearing the click of the door opening, the teenager barreled down the hall to confront his dad. He threw his arms around the man’s waist as if trying to keep him there by physical strength alone. “Please don’t go! I… I spied on the meeting. I know what you’re planning to do. But you can’t go! Please Dad, I can’t lose you,” he implored, fear coursing through his body.
Dumbledore sighed and carefully but firmly unwound his arms. “I hadn’t meant for you to find out like this. Please go to your room, Severus. I’ll explain everything once I get back.”
Severus shook his head desperately, his eyes welling up with tears. “But what if you never get back?” he cried hysterically. “What if the Dark Lord kills you? Please, I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I could never hate you. I need you! Please don’t go. I swear, I’ll be the best-behaved child that ever existed. I’ll never talk back or give you attitude or complain ever again, I promise!” His lower lip wobbled as his guardian knelt down before him, resting steadying hands on his trembling shoulders.
“I don’t have much time before I need to go, so listen to me closely. This has absolutely nothing to do with your behavior,” Dumbledore insisted. “The Order and I have been preparing for this moment for many years. We’ve been working tirelessly to track down certain objects that were making it impossible to defeat Voldemort, and now that they are destroyed, this is our best chance to end it all before it gets worse. The war has already impacted your life more than it should have, my dear child. You deserve to finish growing up without worrying about the dangers of war, and it is my responsibility to make this happen.”
Severus clutched at his dad’s robes, trying to find the words to protest as the wizard summoned a set of shrunken emergency potions, an extra wand, and battle robes. “I-If both you and Aunt Minerva are fighting, then I’m coming too,” he said through tears.
His guardian whirled around. “Don’t you dare step a foot outside of this castle, or I will have you scrubbing cauldrons until you’re 100. I will not lose you, Severus Tobias Snape.”
“Well I won’t lose you!” Severus shouted in response. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t lose the only father who had ever loved him.
“Voldemort is no match for me, child. We will win this war,” Dumbledore promised fiercely. “I must go now. I will see you when this is all over.”
Severus reluctantly let his guardian’s robes slide from his grasp, using all of his willpower to keep from clutching them again. “Wait!” he cried as his guardian turned away. “Dad, I-I love you.” He hadn’t been able to say the words back when his dad had first said them, but it wasn’t because the feelings hadn’t been there. It had just been too difficult to say them out loud. But now that his dad was about to go fight the Dark Lord, he had to let him know that he loved him back. Just in case… he swallowed hard.
“I love you too, son,” Dumbledore whispered hoarsely, squeezing him tightly and placing his lips on his forehead in what Severus had to believe wouldn’t be the last hug and kiss he’d ever receive from his dad. “Be strong for me.”
And with that, he was gone.
Severus crumpled to the floor, knowing without even trying that the instant that door had closed, powerful wards had sprung up that would prevent him from leaving their quarters no matter how hard he tried. A moment later, he heard Flitwick announce that the castle had gone into lockdown and all of Hogwarts’ defenses were engaged. Students were sealed in their common rooms and the floo network shut off. It was a waiting game now.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes into hours. Severus had no idea how long he’d been sitting on the floor, rocking himself back and forth as he hoped with every fiber of his being that his dad and godmother would be okay. They had to make it through, right? Dumbledore had promised that the Dark Lord was no match for him. And everyone knew that McGonagall was just as scary as Moody in a duel.
But… but what if they didn’t make it? What if something unexpected happened, and his dad and godmother were killed? It wasn’t that he didn’t believe his dad was capable of defeating the Dark Lord. He knew that Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard alive. What terrified him was that the man would make the choice to take down the Dark Lord even if it meant sacrificing himself in the process. And if his godmother made the same choice taking down an enemy, then he would be all alone again, torn cruelly from the only true family he’d ever had. It would almost be better to live in a world where the Dark Lord had won if that meant his family was alive, because at least he’d know that someone still loved him.
Severus’ wrist tingled as he itched for something within his control, but he forced the urge down as best he could. He hadn’t cut himself in months, and he wasn’t going to now. His dad and godmother were currently on the battlefield along with countless others fighting with their lives for a better world for him. He had to be strong in return. Feeling the panic rising in his chest despite his best efforts, he closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. Jacob had worked on this with him for countless therapy sessions. He could do it.
A murmured spell later, he exhaled deeply as the almost comforting coolness of ice cubes came into contact with his skin. He’d start with the polyjuice potion recipe. Three deep breaths in through the nose. Lacewing flies, fluxweed, knotgrass, and leeches to start. Three deep breaths out through the mouth. Then bicorn horn, boomslang skin, a strand of hair. Three deep breaths in. Add the lacewing flies and stir the cauldron ten times counterclockwise. Three deep breaths out. Raise the heat and drop a pinch of fluxweed. Three deep breaths in.
He recited the recipe in his head, repeating the pattern of deep breathing until he was finished. Then he moved onto the pepper-up potion. Again and again he repeated this strategy until eventually his racing heart calmed. His eyes already closed, he allowed himself to drift away into a state of floating relaxation.
Some time later, Severus’ eyes snapped open at the sound of a latch being unlocked. Scrambling to his feet, he rushed forward as the battered and bloody figure of his godmother stepped inside. “Aunt Minerva,” he breathed, hugging her as fiercely as he dared in order to not further injure her. “You’re alive. Is Dad coming soon?” His heart skidded to a stop at the grave expression his godmother wore. “No,” he denied, shaking his head disbelievingly. “No, he promised!”
McGonagall grasped his shoulder tightly. “We need to head to St. Mungo’s immediately. Albus took down Voldemort without a problem, but he was bitten by Nagini before the snake could be killed. He’s in a coma, and...” She took a deep breath. “And the healers aren’t sure if he’ll make it.”
Chapter Text
They arrived at St. Mungo’s in a splash of green flames. Hurrying into the lobby, Severus weaved after his godmother through the crowded hallways of healers bustling back and forth between newly admitted patients. He could barely think straight as they rushed through what seemed like the entire hospital before finally reaching a set of guarded double doors.
“Wand identification is needed if you’d like to enter the high security ward,” the auror intoned.
Seeing his godmother hand over her wand without hesitation, the teenager quickly followed, noting in a daze as their wands were tapped against what must have been a wand registry parchment. In the back of his mind, he understood the need for caution in case any Death Eaters tried to sneak in, but at the forefront was panic and fear. They didn’t have time for this nonsense! His dad could be dying at that very moment!
“Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape,” the auror nodded. “You’re clear to go in.”
Severus snatched his wand back and practically shoved his way past the auror, frantic impatience evident in every fiber of his body. “Which room is his?” he demanded, his head swiveling wildly between the room number plaques.
“It’s this one. Room 990,” McGonagall said, gesturing to the room on their right. She grabbed his shoulder before he could barge in, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Brace yourself, Severus. War affects more than just those who fought in battle.”
Hearing the gravity of her tone, Severus stopped and forced himself to take a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the most gruesome scene he could imagine. But even that wasn’t enough to take away what felt like a bludgeoning hex to the gut the moment he stepped into the room. “Dad,” he croaked, his knees almost buckling at the lifeless, pallid form of his guardian.
Two healers hovered at the edge of the bed, casting spells in low murmurs. Severus could practically feel the hum of the magic that had already been placed to keep his dad alive. One spell was directing fluids from an IV bag into his dad’s arm. Another was regulating his breathing, forcing oxygen into his lungs when his body couldn’t do it by itself. It was all so incredibly clinical and sterile and intense that he could hardly breathe himself.
Stumbling forward, he pushed past the healers to grab his dad’s hand. “Dad, please, wake up,” he begged in a broken voice. Disbelief morphed into hysteria the longer he waited with no response. “I said wake up!” he screamed with desperation.
“Shhh, Severus, let the healers work,” McGonagall murmured sadly, pulling him away.
Caught in his godmother’s arms, Severus buried his head in the crook of her neck, unable to look at the unnaturally still form behind him. Why wouldn’t his dad wake up? “He promised that he would be okay,” he cried inconsolably. “He can’t leave me! I need him!”
“I know, child, I know,” McGonagall whispered, trying to soothe him even as tears spilled down her own cheeks. “We can only hope for the best. But trust me when I say that he would never leave you without a fight.”
Severus nodded into her chest before peeking through blurry eyelashes at the bed behind him. “W-What are you giving him?” he challenged feverishly as he watched the healers coax vial after vial of strangely colored potions down his dad’s throat. He knew what healing potions looked like, and those weren’t them! What if they were hurting him?
“They’re different anti-venoms,” the senior healer answered in a clipped tone. She waved her wand in a complicated corkscrew motion, then shook her head. “Damn it, no improvement,” she growled to her colleague.
“That’s the last type we have,” the other healer muttered regretfully, speaking almost too quietly for him to hear. “There’s nothing else we can do.”
“I know.” The first healer took a steadying breath and then turned to face them. “We’ve tried all of the anti-venoms that are available in Britain. I’m afraid none of them are working,” she said solemnly.
McGonagall closed her eyes in exhausted defeat, her arms tightening around him. “I—I understand. How much longer…?”
“Not very long,” the senior healer responded quietly. “We’ll leave you to say your goodbyes.”
Severus stared unseeingly as he was carried over to his dad’s bedside. What were the healers saying? They couldn’t possibly be implying what he thought they were. Because that would mean… that would mean…
“Severus, sweetheart, it’s time to say goodbye,” Minerva whispered, her throat thick with emotion.
Severus turned to blink at her, still numb with shock. Then, as reality abruptly set in, he let out an agonized wail. “No!” he shouted, shaking his head in vehement denial. “I’m not going to say goodbye because Dad isn’t going to die! He promised!”
“Severus—”
Unwilling to listen, Severus wrenched himself out of his godmother’s grasp and ran over to the healers. “What ingredients did you use in the anti-venoms? Maybe, maybe I’ll find something that was missed,” he said desperately. “Do you have the recipes?”
The healers exchanged a glance and eyed him sympathetically. “Look kid—”
“Please.”
The single word was filled with such utter desperation and helplessness that the healers must’ve taken pity on him because with a sigh and a nod, the senior healer reached into her robe pocket. “Here are the recipes.”
Severus snatched the slips of parchment from her fingertips, frantically scanning through each one. His heart was pounding, his mind racing faster than it ever had before. It would take too long to create an anti-venom specific to Nagini, so he was looking for a potion that was general enough to counter most venoms but lacking in sufficient potency. There! Discarding the rest of the recipes, he quickly read through the ingredient list. What could make it stronger? Maybe if they doubled the dosage of the dittany? No, that wouldn’t react properly with the wormwood. A crushed bezoar? No. Frustrated tears slipped from his eyes as he tried and failed again and again to come up with anything that would work.
“Severus, child. It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” McGonagall reassured him softly, coming up from behind and resting a hand on his back. “It’s time to say goodbye now.”
As he despairingly allowed himself to be led back, a passage he’d read at the very beginning of the school year suddenly clicked in his mind. “Belladonna,” he breathed in realization, stopping in his tracks. It was from Moste Potente Potions—the recipe for the modified healing draught. “You need to add one gram of belladonna, dissolved for exactly sixty seconds!” he informed the healers urgently.
The younger healer’s eyes narrowed. “Belladonna is an ingredient used in poisons, not healing potions.”
“No, that’s not true!” Severus insisted. “If properly dissolved, belladonna will greatly increase the potency of a substance rather than create a toxicity. It’s in Moste Potente Potions. Please, he’s going to die anyway if we don’t do anything. Please just give it a try,” he implored.
The senior healer inhaled sharply. “The boy’s correct. I remember reading a passage about that from my early days as a trainee, but it’s rarely taught these days due to the fatality risk for the brewer. But it’s the only chance Dumbledore’s got. We’ll have to see if our potions master is willing to attempt it.”
As the healers raced out of the room, Severus sagged into his godmother’s arms, his energy depleted. “Please Dad,” he whispered as he was set down on the edge of the bed. “Just hold on a little longer. The healers should be back with the new potion soon.” He’d heard that people could sometimes hear what was going on in the real world when they were in a coma, and he desperately hoped that that was true.
“You heard your son, Albus. You’ve always been a stubborn old coot. Don’t you dare let us down now,” Minerva added, her voice wobbly.
It felt like they were waiting for an eternity, each second worse than the last as they wished with all their power that he would make it. Finally, the healers rushed back in, a vial in hand.
“Give us some space,” the senior healer ordered as they both stepped forward to administer the potion.
Severus’ hand clenched tightly around his godmother’s as they watched Dumbledore’s throat rise and fall, reflexively swallowing the potion that had been tipped into his mouth.
Nothing happened.
The teenager let out a muffled sob, burrowing himself into his godmother as she rested her head on top of his in a moment of shared grief. He had failed. He would never again feel one of his dad’s warm, safe hugs. He would never again get to see the infuriating twinkle in the man’s eyes. He would never again hear the deep, comforting cadence of his dad’s voice as he said—
“Severus.”
Everyone’s heads whipped around in the direction of the raspy, barely audible whisper.
“D-Dad?” Severus asked tentatively, almost scared to believe that hadn’t imagined the voice.
“I’m okay, son,” Dumbledore whispered, his eyes fluttering open and closed. “And Minerva, I’ll get my revenge for that old coot comment.”
“Oh, Albus,” McGonagall said tearfully.
Severus leapt forward, hugging his dad carefully but with more love than he ever had before. “You heard us.”
“Indeed I did. And if I heard correctly, it appears that I have you to thank for my survival, son. I suppose I should be grateful that you snuck into the restricted section to pilfer Moste Potente Potions all those months ago,” Dumbledore joked, a weak twinkle in his eyes.
Severus choked out a laugh then shifted to gently place his head against his dad’s chest, listening to the reassuring lub-dub, lub-dub of his heart. He closed his eyes with a content sigh as his dad rested a hand on the back of his head. The healers would finish working their magic, and then before he knew it, life would continue as normal for their little family. Everything was as it should be.
The First Wizarding War was officially over, the aftermath settling down at long last. The weeks following the battle with Voldemort had been hectic, and Dumbledore had been hounded incessantly by the press and Ministry in addition to overseeing the busy end of year at Hogwarts. Thankfully, Augusta Longbottom was now Chief Warlock, so the headmaster hadn’t been responsible for overseeing the post-war trials as well, although he had been called to testify for a few of them.
Trials had been held for all who bore the Dark Mark, but only those found guilty of the worst of crimes were sentenced to Azkaban. The Wizengamot had decided not to further prosecute the rest of the witches and wizards discovered with the Dark Mark, especially since some of those arrested had barely been of age. It seemed that Voldemort had marked a handful of sixth and seventh year recruits shortly before the raid on the Ministry, wanting as many numbers on his side as possible. The newly marked followers, likely groomed from birth to serve their Lord, had gleefully snuck out of Hogwarts prior to the castle lockdown to fight in what they’d assumed would be a successful coup of the government. Included among the young people caught at the Ministry were Augustus Rookwood, the Lestrange twins, Bellatrix Black (who had been sprung from Azkaban prior to the raid), and Lucius Malfoy.
The teenager sighed as he thought about the trials of his former classmates. It had come out during Malfoy’s testimony that he had been the one to place Severus under the imperius curse. The younger wizard hadn’t exactly been surprised, but there had been a small part of him that’d hoped his former protector hadn’t been more than happy to cast an Unforgivable on him. Unfortunately, that had not been the case. His dad had been furious when he’d learned the identity of the student who’d attacked him, but he’d agreed not to press additional charges. The consensus was that anyone marked as a Death Eater had already faced the worst punishment imaginable—the loss of their magic by their own Lord’s hand.
Shortly after the battle, the Unspeakables had discovered that the Dark Mark branded onto each of the Death Eaters’ arms had allowed Voldemort to leech their magic as needed. During his final confrontation with Dumbledore, the Dark Lord had drained his followers’ magical cores completely dry in an effort to survive. Evidently, even the additional power hadn’t been enough to sustain him, and when he had fallen, the entire Dark Side had as well. Left with the power of a squib and unable to cast even a single spell, they had surrendered. It was felt by the wizarding world that the majority of the Death Eaters turned squibs no longer posed a threat to society, and having to live like the muggles they despised would be punishment enough.
“Hoot. Hoot.”
Startled from his thoughts, Severus glanced up as the morning post arrived in the Great Hall. A magnificent white owl flew towards him, and he tracked it curiously as it dropped a letter at his place before settling on the table next to Remus and stealing some of the boy’s bacon.
“What a gorgeous owl,” Lily cooed, stroking the preening owl’s feathers. “Do you know who she belongs to?”
Severus shook his head and looked questioningly at his other two friends sitting across the table. In the spirit of unity, the house tables had been removed after the battle, and students were free to sit and mingle wherever they’d like during mealtimes. Hence why he was eating breakfast with three Gryffindors. “Any ideas?” he asked bemusedly.
“I don’t know who it’s from, but I’d recognize that stationery anywhere! That’s Flourish and Blotts’ most expensive parchment,” Alice informed him. “It’s usually only used for really formal things like pureblood party invitations and official Ministry correspondence.”
“Well, I doubt it’s from anyone in the Prince family,” Severus muttered, rather puzzled. Who on earth would be writing to him with such formality?
Remus cleared his throat awkwardly. “Erm, she’s Lord Potter’s owl. I saw her a few times at James’ house when I visited last summer.”
Severus chewed on his lip as the envelope in his hand suddenly took on a new meaning. Why would Lord Potter be writing to him? He knew that his dad and Fleamont Potter were good friends, but what would warrant a personal letter? Unless… his insides clenched painfully. He hadn’t heard from Potter junior or Sirius Black since they’d been suspended last term, but both would be due to return for third year if the Potter parents and mind healers felt they’d made sufficient progress. This letter had to be from the two of them. It was the only explanation that made sense.
Lily seemed to be thinking along the same lines as she rested a supportive hand on his own. “There’s no need to open it now if you don’t want to,” she said softly.
“I… I don’t know what to do,” Severus sighed, running his finger along the smooth edge of the envelope. If it was from Potter and Black and they hadn’t changed at all, he didn’t want to ruin his morning by reading a bunch of accusations and insults.
“I don’t think you need to be too worried about the contents,” Remus commented knowingly. “Lord and Lady Potter are both kind people, and I heard that they were extremely displeased with James and Sirius’ behavior once they learned of it. They wouldn’t have allowed the boys to send a letter unless it was approved by them first.”
Severus gave a nod of thanks and took a deep breath before breaking the wax seal. Unfurling the parchment, he was met with a script of elegant calligraphy, no doubt from years of private tutors. He read the letter silently, the tension in his chest subsiding with each line.
“Sev?” Lily asked. “You okay?”
Severus tucked the letter back into the envelope and smiled at his friends. “Black and Potter apologized. Both spent the term doing community service and working with a mind healer, and they actually acknowledged that their actions were inexcusable and that they were sorry for them.” He took a sip of pumpkin juice, swishing it around in his mouth before swallowing. The fury and hatred he’d held for the two had subsided many months ago, and while they would never be friends, he was content with being on neutral terms after reading the letter.
“Do you think they mean it?” Alice asked curiously.
“I do,” he nodded, a sense of peace settling over him. “It reads as a genuine apology, and I know from personal experience that working with a mind healer can really help. I’ll never like either of them, but I think we’ll get along just fine when they return to Hogwarts.”
His friends nodded and returned his smile, happy to see him relaxed. Everyone knew that the two marauders had made Severus’ life miserable for his first year of school, so they were glad that it seemed their fellow Gryffindors had truly changed.
“Attention students,” McGonagall’s voice echoed throughout the Great Hall, putting an end to their conversation. “The Hogwarts Express will be departing in half an hour. Please make sure all of your belongings are packed, and promptly follow Hagrid to Hogsmeade station.”
“Well, I guess we’d better get going,” Lily said regretfully, getting up from the table. “You’re not taking the train with us back to King’s Cross, are you, Sev?”
Severus shook his head. “No, but I’ll walk with you all to meet Hagrid. Dad said we’ll be taking the floo to his summer house because of something to do with the wards, so it didn’t make sense for me to take the train just for him to pick me up and bring me back to Hogwarts again.”
“Well, promise you’ll write then, okay? All of you! I’ll have to ask my mum and dad, but I’m sure they’d be delighted if you three came to visit,” Lily said eagerly. “And Tuney is being nice again, so we won’t have to worry about her.”
“I promise. And a visit sounds like fun,” Severus smiled. He was sad that he and Lily were no longer neighbors, but at least he’d have unrestricted access to an owl this summer. And for the first time, he actually had two new friends to keep in touch with as well. “Maybe we could also do a sleepover at my dad’s summer house,” he offered.
“Oh, that’d be so cool!” Remus exclaimed excitedly. “I’ve always wondered what a professor’s house looks like. Especially someone as old and powerful as the headmaster.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him your thoughts,” Severus teased. “I’m sure he’d be delighted to have you over, despite his old age.”
Remus looked properly horrified. “Don’t you dare!” he gasped.
“Just kidding,” Severus smirked, playfully punching his friend’s shoulder and snickering when he was lightly shoved in return.
“It’s probably just like anyone else’s house except with a lot more books,” Alice laughed. “Getting together sounds great though. We’ll definitely keep in touch and figure something out.”
They reached the courtyard just as the clock tower rang, signaling a quarter to eleven. “Alright, folks,” Hagrid announced, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “The train leaves the station at eleven o’clock sharp. Let’s go now, come on.”
Turning to face his friends, Severus found himself being pulled into a hug by Lily, followed by Alice and Remus. He blinked rapidly, absolutely not holding back tears. A quick glance showed that the other three were in a similar predicament. It had to be the wind blowing sand in their eyes. Never mind that it wasn’t windy. Or that there wasn’t sand anywhere.
“Well, I guess this is it then. I’ll see you around mate,” Remus said with a wave.
“Bye, Sev! We’ll see each other soon!” Alice said with a last quick hug.
The two then departed, heading down the path after Hagrid. Lily lingered behind, and Severus was glad to have a moment with just the two of them again.
“I’ll miss you, Sev!” Lily sniffled lightly. “Especially since you won’t be next door anymore.”
“I’ll miss you too,” Severus admitted softly. “But don’t worry, I’ll owl you all at least twice a week. We’re friends forever, yeah?”
“Of course we’re friends forever,” Lily nodded tearfully before wiping her eyes. “I guess I should probably get going now, or I’ll lose track of Hagrid.”
Severus smiled and fondly nudged her in the direction of the station. “I’ll see you soon, my fair knight.”
His best friend giggled. “That you will. But for now, I must bid thee farewell. Until we meet again, Princess Sevvie.” And with a quick peck on his cheek, she was sprinting down the path to catch up with the others.
“Hey, it’s Prince Severus!” Severus shouted indignantly after her rapidly retreating back. He rolled his eyes in exasperated amusement at the impish grin she shot him over her shoulder. He would probably never win that battle.
As the last of his friends disappeared from sight, Severus turned around and made his way to his dad’s quarters where he knew the man would be working on never ending paperwork. “Hi Dad,” he greeted, flopping down on the couch.
“Good morning, son,” Dumbledore said, reaching out to ruffle his hair.
“Dad, stop it,” Severus fussed, smoothing down his hair and mock glaring at the man. “I’m too old for that.”
“Ah, my apologies, my boy,” Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “I suppose you’re also too old for this then, hmm?”
Severus frowned. “What’s this?”
The teenager didn’t even have a second to blink before his dad pounced on him, fingers scrabbling along his sensitive sides. “DAAAAD!” he shrieked, bursting into uncontrollable laughter as the feather light touches danced across his skin.
“Why, just look at that beautiful smile on your face,” Dumbledore teased, prompting an extra yowl of laughter as he found Severus’ extra sensitive tickle spots around his neck and under his arms. “Laughter really is the best medicine, isn’t it? Perhaps they should replace ‘an apple a day keeps the healer away’ with ‘a tickle a day keeps the healer away,’ hmm? What do you think?”
“Noooo!” Severus squealed, his voice an octave higher than usual, unable to do anything but squirm helplessly under his dad’s merciless assault. “Staaahp! You win!” he howled.
“I win? I didn’t know we were having a competition,” Dumbledore said innocently, running his fingers across the exposed ribs. “What did I win?”
Severus practically catapulted off the couch as his dad targeted his extremely ticklish stomach. “M-My hair! I-I’m n-not too o-old for y-you to r-ruffle m-my h-hair,” he shrieked between bursts of laughter.
“Oh! Well I’m very glad to hear you feel that way,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “I’ll be sure to remember that for the future.”
Severus collapsed against the couch, panting for breath as his dad’s tickle attack finally relented. “I should’ve known you had an ulterior motive when you adopted me. You were just looking for someone to tickle, weren’t you?” he huffed, although he was unable to hide his smile.
“Oh dear, I’m afraid you’ve caught me,” Dumbledore chuckled, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
Severus sighed dramatically but leaned into his dad’s side. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to bear it now that the adoption is finalized.”
“That you will, Mr. Dumbledore,” his dad agreed fondly.
It had taken many months, but the adoption had finally gone through. Tobias’ court date had happened shortly after the end of year exams, and it had been swift and efficient. Severus hadn’t been required to testify since he was a minor, and he had decided against attending as well. He’d had no desire to relive his trauma and face his abuser again. Dumbledore and McGonagall had both gone though, and they’d come back looking quite pleased. The verdict was that Tobias would be sent to Azkaban for a decade without the possibility of parole, and upon his release, he was prohibited from ever seeking out or contacting Severus again.
After the ruling was announced, the judge had stripped Tobias of all custody and visitation rights, clearing the way for Dumbledore to submit the adoption papers. They had been stamped almost immediately, and Severus had gone to bed that night with a new family both in heart and in law. He had also opted to change his name, dropping Tobias’ namesake from his own in favor of his dad’s last name. For his middle name, he had taken his godmother’s father’s name, a choice that had earned him a long, emotional hug. McGonagall had been very close to her late father, and Severus had been glad that he could honor his godmother in that way.
“Hey Dad, did you really transfigure Tobias into a mouse and let Aunt Minnie chase him around in her animagus form after the trial?” he asked with a grin.
“Of course not,” Dumbledore said with mock affront. “That would be highly immoral. It just happened that Auror Moody desperately needed to use the loo as soon as we landed in Azkaban, so he asked myself and Minerva to ensure that Tobias made it to his cell. And while casting the patronus charm, I accidentally mixed up my spells and cast the one that turns a human into a mouse. A downside of old age, I’m afraid. And without a patronus to shield us, your poor godmother had no choice but to transform into her cat form to alleviate the effects of the dementors. You know how she suffers greatly from their presence.”
Severus’ eyes shone with amusement, rather impressed that his dad had managed to keep a straight face throughout the explanation. He wouldn’t question the story of course, but there was a warmth in his heart at knowing the lengths his dad and godmother would go on his behalf. “Well, old age certainly can have its advantages. And I’m glad poor Aunt Minnie was able to find a way to cope with the dementors,” he smirked lightly.
“Quite fortunate indeed,” Dumbledore agreed innocently, a twinkle in his eye. “Anyway, I have a little bit more work to do, but I can finish the rest later. Shall we head to our summer abode now?”
Severus nodded enthusiastically. He was excited to see his dad’s house and had been promised that there was a small potions lab that he could use with supervision. The house elves had already brought their belongings over, so he would have his gold cauldron and potions kit waiting for him there.
“Take my arm, please,” Dumbledore requested, offering his elbow which Severus grasped firmly. “We’ll floo there together for this first time. My wards require a magical signature verification, but we need to be at the property before I can key you in.”
As they stepped out of the fireplace, Severus smiled contentedly at the feeling of warmth and coziness that surrounded him. Just from one look around, he already knew that he was going to love it. He glanced backwards as Dumbledore came up behind him and rested his hands on his shoulders.
“Welcome home, son.”
“Home,” Severus quietly repeated to himself. He liked that word. While Hogwarts and their quarters were also his home, this felt like home in a different way. It was an actual house with a nice yard, a fence, and a loving parent, just like the homes that his classmates from primary school had always described. Standing in this house now felt like he was living his life as he’d always dreamed it could be whenever he’d longed to escape Spinner’s End growing up.
“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me forever now,” Dumbledore hummed, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.
Severus tilted his head slightly. “Forever and happily ever after?” he proposed softly.
“I like that. Forever and happily ever after,” his dad confirmed.
Severus nodded, a soft smile on his lips. It would seem that at long last, he was no longer the unwanted boy from Spinner’s End. Perhaps those fairytales that he and Lily had read when they were young children weren’t so ridiculous after all. Maybe he had been wrong, and he wasn’t the evil villain in the story like Tobias had always said. And maybe his best friend had been right, and a happy ending was possible in real life. Because this was real life now. And while this was in some ways a new beginning, it was also an ending. An ending of happily ever after.
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