"Thank you! Thank you!" Harry said over and over.
Snape finally managed to pry himself loose. "Yes, well, you will not feel like thanking me once you hear your punishment, Mr Potter. I expect two hundred lines of 'I shall not take unnecessary risks with my health and welfare' тАУ and don't think I have forgotten the five hundred lines you owe me for quoting your uncle the other night!" Harry looked guilty. "And you will spend two nights next week in my quarters, writing an essay about the need to think before foolishly rushing into action." He frowned forbiddingly at the boy, but Harry was surprisingly unsquelched.
"Yes, sir," the brat chirped happily.
Snape glared at him. What did the wretch have to look so pleased about? Hadn't he just lost several nights of free time and been harshly scolded? He'd been called a "moronic child". He'd even been spanked. So why was Potter eyeing him so thoughtfully? "What?" he demanded defensively. Did the boy expect another cuddle? Well if so, he was in for a long wait. Severus Snape, Death Eater and spy, did not cuddle disobedient, headstrong brats.
"I was just thinking about what to call you," Harry explained guilelessly. "Outside of class, I mean. When it's just the two of us."
"What!" Snape squawked.
"Well, I don't much want to call you Uncle Severus," Harry explained, oblivious to the way Snape's eyes bugged at his use of the appellation, " 'cause that reminds me too much of my Un тАУ well, you know who. But I don't really think I should call you Dad either." Now Snape was truly incapable of speech. Only his certain, delicious knowledge that James Potter was spinning in his grave allowed him to remain conscious. "Hmm." Harry thought a moment longer, then shrugged. "I'll just have to keep thinking, I guess. Thanks, Pr'fessor! I'll go meet Oliver and Professor McGonagall and as soon as I'm done I'll come back so we can go to the Weasleys." He paused then grinned impudently. "Guess I won't be able to start on my lines until tomorrow."
While Snape continued to fight for air, Harry headed to the door then, just before he reached it, he turned and darted back. The breath that Snape had nearly managed to regain was knocked out of him anew as Harry flew into him. "Thank you. I'm sorry I was bad and you had to smack me," he mumbled, squeezing his professor as tight as he could. "And I'm really glad you're my guardian."
And then he was gone, sprinting through the door to the loud welcomes of the other Gryffindors, leaving behind a breathless and very, very pensive Snape.
TBC...
*Chapter 6*: Chapter 6
Snape had тАУ mostly тАУ managed to regain his composure by the time Harry returned to his quarters late that afternoon. Hearing a Potter contemplate calling him "Uncle" or тАУ Merlin help us, the world was wobbling on its axis тАУ "Dad", had been enough to require two calming draughts and a cold cloth on his forehead.
Even if Voldemort hadn't existed and James and Lily were alive, it was unlikely that Snape would have been a welcome visitor to Potter's home, let alone on friendly terms with their offspring. Harry's artless comments had shaken him to the core. A man who had, since childhood, avoided nearly all close friendships was all too easily undone by a child's na├пve words.
Snape had barely emerged from the trauma of losing Lily's friendship when he had taken the Dark Mark. His service to Voldemort and the war in which they were engaged had then occupied all his time and efforts, and he was certainly not inclined to build friendships amongst those ranks. To the purebloods, he was a lesser creature, tolerated because his skill with potions had made him one of the Dark Lord's favorites, but certainly not someone you would befriend. Snape himself was still an awkward adolescent when it came to relationships, and knowing how badly he had botched his friendship with Lily made him more reluctant to risk being hurt again. When he had become a spy for the Light, it was too dangerous to become close to anyone тАУ whether in terms of their learning his secret or by placing someone he cared about in danger.
Then had come that awful Halloween and Severus felt his life had ended. He had retreated into a dark, bitter, bleak world from which that no one тАУ least of all himself тАУ cared enough to coax him. Albus had tried, but he had been distracted by all his other duties, and Severus had fought him tooth and nail. In the end, the Headmaster had sadly resigned himself to waiting the saturnine man out.
By the time the rawness of his emotions had begun to ease, Snape had created a life for himself as the Evil Bat of the Dungeons, the quintessential Slytherin whose caustic tongue blighted scores of childhoods. How could he even think of seeking "normal" friendships when his sole experience with such a thing had been with a redheaded witch nearly two decades previous? He had no idea how to get along with people тАУ only how to intimidate, alienate, or otherwise push them away. If it weren't for Dumbledore, he would literally go months without having a civil conversation with another human. He'd burned any and all bridges with the other faculty within weeks of his arrival as a staff member, and the persistent rumors тАУ suitably embellished by years of Hogwarts students тАУ about his (literally) Dark Past hardly made him anyone's idea of a suitable date or even someone with whom to have a few pints at the Leaky Cauldron.
So perhaps it was no surprise that Harry's simple words had rocked the foundation of Severus' world. In many ways, despite (or perhaps because of) the lonely, angry years, he was still that awkward adolescent, desperately seeking love and affection. And the unconditional, unwavering love of a child was very, very seductive.
On principle тАУ he was a Slytherin after all тАУ Snape expected the worst, so he assumed that the brat's attitude towards him would change the instant Harry found himself among the Weasleys. After all, they were the archetypical parents. Their children patently adored them and showed a fierce loyalty despite the family's limited means. Molly and Arthur probably knew how to handle all sorts of crises and didn't call their children derogatory names, let alone backhand them into a wall. Threadbare they might be, but you could practically feel the love oozing off the walls at the Burrow. Snape had always claimed it was Molly's diabetes-inducing biscuits that made him nauseous on his infrequent visits there тАУ usually related to the twins' extra-curricular activities тАУ but if truth be told, it was the palpable feeling of Home that always unnerved him.
Harry would doubtless blossom under their care and forget all about the snarky loner who dwelt in the dungeons and hadn't the faintest idea how to be kind to a child. Terrorize children, oh yes. In that Snape was unparalleled. Even his Slytherins didn't like him. They respected him, appreciated his fierce protectiveness, honored his loyaltyтАж and avoided him like the plague. No matter how much they might miss their parents, homesick Slytherin First Years invariably decided to seek comfort from a Prefect rather than their Head of House.
And yet despite his spiky temper, his acerbic put-downs, his utter lack of gentleness or indulgence, somehow Snape had impressed Harry as "nice". Without even trying. In fact, while trying very hard not to. But Harry hadn't been driven away by Snape's efforts. Instead he'd somehow misconstrued them to the point where he openly preferred the Potion Master to the Headmaster's grandfatherly approach, the medi-witch's blandishments and sweets, and even his own Head of House's Quidditch-obsesssed adultation. Snape's Slytherin heart rejoiced at the thought of how much this state of affairs must irritate his colleagues, but his past history convinced him that it would be short-lived. Gloating now would only lead to pain later, once Harry renounced him and the others had their chance to take revenge.