A/N: Just a little scene I had in mind after watching the final movie for the second time (I cried once again at the Snape and Lily scenes).
Severus Snape was not a sentimental man. He felt no joy, no true indulgence, no compassion, no laughter, no sadness. (Sorrow and sadness are two very different things). He did not laugh, though he did sneer, and sneer quite well at that. He did not think of many things as "funny", but he found a twisted sort of humor in the destruction of those who reminded him of James Potter.
The greatest of these sorry souls, of course, was Potter's own son. Snape loathed the boy. He saw that the younger Potter was made far too much of his father. The Potter boy was rebellious and flippant, inconsiderate and cocky at times. He was not the least bit respectful of his teachers, and was entirely biased towards Snape's own house of Slytherin. The boy might not have noticed it, but he wore a smirk as often as Snape donned a sneer. The boy was rash and blundering, quick to act and slow to think. He was blind. He did not SEE. He was James Potter reincarnated.
But...what Snape hated even more than the times he caught Potter blundering about with his wand or smirking (smirking again) triumphantly after a Quidditch match, what Snape hated even more than seeing James in him, was-
...One afternoon a few minutes into the lunch hour, Snape turned a corner on his way into the Great Hall and spotted the boy, who was at that time a fifth year. A bitter smile turned up the corner of Snape's lips. He moved towards the boy, his pristine robes swooshing behind him ominously, savoring the chance to accuse the boy of some abominable mischief, rather than merely being late to lunch.
A first year Ravenclaw went scurrying right by Snape, obviously in too much of a nervous hurry to notice the Potions master, else he would have slowed down immensely and a terrified look would appear on his wretched little face.
All at once, just as he was five feet ahead of Potter, the boy tripped, and books went flying out of his bag in all directions. Blushing a furious red, the first year knelt to the ground and began picking up his books in a mortified rush.
"Here," said a voice, and Snape realized it was Potter, whose back was still to him. "Let me help you.". And he bent down to assist with the recollection of the books. "In a hurry, are you?"
The first year blushed brighter still. "If I don't get to lunch in time, the third years will levitate all the food I try to put on my plate and take it for themselves." He slapped a hand over his mouth as though mortified that he had revealed such embarrassing information.
"They do this to just you, or all the first years?" implored Potter.
"Just me," whimpered the boy.
"Well how about this," said Potter; "I'll come into lunch with you today, and I'll even sit with you at the Ravenclaw table, and if the third years try to take any food away from you I'll tell them that I'll have my friend Hermione report them to Professor Flitwick. Hermione's a prefect, see."
"A prefect?" said the first year, standing up, as the book scramble was over. "What's a prefect?"
Snape could hear the smile in Potter's voice.
"Muggle-born, are you?"
Snape saw the back of the little boy's head nod as the two of them continued on down the hall.
"I'm one, myself."
"You are?"
"Yes."
Their voices were growing softer, farther and farther away.
"What's your name?"
"Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter! I know who you are!" At last the two students turned the corner at the end of the hall.
Snape hated that moment more than any of the times he'd seen that the boy was no different from his father. Because if there was one thing he hated more than seeing James in Harry Potter, it was seeing Lily.
Snape was not a sentimental man. But pain was one thing he could feel.
