Snape ground his teeth. He was on 'guard duty', which meant endlessly watching the boy he hated most in the world without being seen. It was torture. Dumbledore had asked some difficult things of him, but this was surely the worst. Snape shook himself and concentrated on his task; even if he hated it, he would do it properly. He had his pride, after all. Snape watched as Potter stole another newspaper from a bin and felt an unexpected flash of sympathy. It was clear that Potter was desperate for any scrap of news and was resorting to raiding Muggle bins to get it, or not get it, Snape thought as he watched Potter throw the newspaper away in frustration.
Snape heard voices. He turned and saw a group of teenage boys laughing about some boy they'd just beaten up, Potter's cousin obviously their leader. Figures. Snape's lip curled at this most Potter like behaviour and turned back to Potter Junior, seeing whether he would join this gang. Snape saw, to his surprise, that Potter had stiffened, his eyes showing a mixture of fear and hatred, his hand twitching, obviously longing to go to his wand. Potter watched the gang go past; his every muscle tensed until, inevitably, they spotted him.
"Oh it's Potty," shouted one of the boys, "what you doin' over there Potty? We've missed our favourite punch bag!" The other boys laughed appreciatively at the 'joke',
"What?" replied Potter. "Got bored of beating up ten year olds? Still," he said, eyeing the group, "four on one. Very brave," Four on one. Just like … Snape refused to let himself finish that thought. The irony of it all was just too disturbing.
"Shut up," shouted Potter's cousin, his eyes flickering to Potter's still twitching hand.
"Aw," said Potter mockingly, "is little Diddykins having an itsy bitsy temper tantrum? Not going to go running to mummykins are you?"
"Hold him," snarled Potter's cousin and a tall gangly boy held Potter down with an ease that showed he'd done it many times before.
Snape watched as the boys beat Potter. Not once did Potter make a sound until they left him bruised and bloody, lying on the street. Snape found himself wanting to cry out to Potter to fight back, but knew that without his magic Potter would be hopeless.
"You better clean yourself up Potter," smirked the whale of a cousin, "you know mum hates it when you get dirt in the house," and laughing he and the others walked away. Potter watched them go with a look of pure and utter loathing that was all too familiar to Snape, and he once again found himself in the unsettling position of sympathising with Potter. Harry, said a small voice in the back of his mind. It was always Lily's favourite name.
Snape wasn't quite sure what it was that made him approach Harry by the pond. Perhaps it was the slow, methodical way he cleaned his cuts that told Snape quite clearly he had done it many times before, perhaps it was the plasters and bandages he just happened to be carrying that told Snape he knew it would happen. Perhaps it was the look on Harry's face. Perhaps it was the words he muttered to himself, ("Stupid Harry, you couldn't have just run, or hid. You had to insult them, had to let yourself get angry again.") Whatever it was Snape found himself inclined, for the first time ever, to help Harry Potter.
Harry turned around as he walked towards him, "Ah," he said coldly, "I see I'm still being followed,"
"How did you? -"
"Know? You could make it a little less obvious. Although to be fair I've never seen you before so either you're better at not being seen or you haven't followed me before. What did you want anyway?"
"What did you want sir," Snape corrected automatically,
"We're not at school Snape. What do you want? Come to gloat? Stupid little Potter getting himself beaten up?"
Snape had to swallow a great deal of pride to get the next sentence out, "You're hurt. I can heal it,"
Harry sneered, "Trying to get me expelled again Snape? You can do better than that. If you do magic here the Ministry will think it's me. Besides, I can deal with it,"
"Your nose is broken," Snape snapped, starting to lose his temper. To be fair he was proud he managed to keep it this long, it was usually gone far quicker around Harry Potter. "I doubt even the great Harry Potter can deal with that."
Harry shrugged, "I'll get it fixed when I get to Hogwarts. It's not the first … what do you care anyway?" Snape had no answer. He had never cared before it was true. In fact, he had gone so far as to actively wish Harry harm, but there was something about the way that he was, almost emotionlessly, cleaning himself up after being beaten by a gang of boys, the way he then hid behind his anger and lashed out, that reminded him, irretrievably, of himself. He could no longer see Harry as the copy of James Potter.
"Why did you insult them?" asked Snape. Harry shrugged,
"I'm an idiot. You should know that, you've told me often enough. Besides I need to let it out at someone, and they're not too bad anymore, ever since I told them my godfather was a convicted murderer who escaped from wizard prison."
"They used to be worse?"
Harry looked at him, seemingly amused, "What's this? Do you actually care Snape?" Snape shifted uncomfortably until Harry spoke again. "I better get back or I'll be later than Dudley," and with that he stood up and walked away without a backwards glance.
Snape arrived back at Headquarters hiding his uncertainty behind his usual sneer. He was almost pleased when he bumped into Black and thought, as he and Black were being told off by Mrs Weasley for fighting, Harry was right, goading other people really can help vent your feelings.
He didn't exactly let it known that he wanted to watch Potter again; that would lead to questions, questions to which he wasn't even sure he knew the answers. No, he merely made himself available and Dumbledore, being as all-knowing as he ever was, gave him the job. He displayed his usual dissatisfaction at the task but he thought, to his great disgust at his lack of control, even Black could see he meant it less than he had before.
He watched. Once again Harry found out where he was and came to talk. "Why are you coming to talk to me?" asked Snape, genuinely curious.
"You're the only living creature, apart from my owl, who doesn't flinch at the sight of me." Harry said it so matter-of-factly that Snape felt like flinching himself. How had this boy managed to get under his skin so quickly? It had to be the eyes. "Besides, you might not as much of a git as we all thought. You did offer to help after all, even if I was such a stubborn git that I refused."
"The offer still stands," Snape replied stiffly. "Your nose is still broken."
"Like I said before Sn – Sir, the Ministry would assume it was me, and I can still go to the Hospital Wing when we go to Hogwarts."
"So you're still being a 'stubborn git',"
"Always."
"And what do you tell Madam Pomfrey on these Pre-Term visits?"
"That I fell," Harry replied with a raised eyebrow, leaving Snape with no doubt that Harry knew that Madam Pomfrey never believed the lie, but maintained it for Harry's sake. Even if Madam Pomfrey had told Dumbledore of her suspicions, Dumbledore knew that this was the safest place for Harry.
"Do you hate them?" Snape asked, nodding towards Privet Drive, then chided himself for the stupid question. Of course Harry hated them.
"No more than they hate me," Harry replied. "They hate magic you see. They've always thought I'm some kind of freak who deserves to be punished. Even before I knew why," he finished bitterly. He looked at Snape. "Why the sudden interest in my life?" Now that was the question wasn't it? But he gave the simplest and easiest answer, even if he suspected the truth went somewhat deeper,
"Even I can admit I've been wrong."
Harry looked at Snape for a long time, suspecting a trap, but Snape seemed to pass his test and he held out his hand. Snape shook it.
The next time Snape took 'guard duty' they had an almost pleasant conversation. Harry had revealed some dark secrets about his childhood and Snape revealed some of the secrets about his, and they realised how similar the two of them truly were. It was not a comfortable realisation for either of them.
It was a while until Snape took guard duty again.
Harry found him, as always. "Snape," Harry said, mildly surprised. "I thought you'd given up on me. I missed our little chats," he said, his nervous smile belying his confident tone.
"I do have other duties to perform, as well as babysitting you, Potter."
"I'm a little too old to be babysat. Can you tell me, why am I being followed anyway?"
"For your own protection."
"I thought the blood wards took care of that."
"Professor Dumbledore deemed it necessary." Harry was surprised at Snape's tone, clearly he too was not entirely pleased with the Headmaster, but he had enough sense not to say anything.
Harry merely scowled at Snape's words. The only reason he went back to the Dursleys without a fight each summer was because Dumbledore had told him nothing could hurt him with the blood wards. Obviously he was lying.
"And," said Harry, trying desperately to reign in his temper, "why do you agree to babysit me?"
"At first because I had no choice," Snape admitted, "but now I do it because you interest me. You are not the boy I thought you were."
"You mean I'm not an arrogant, strutting, spoilt rule breaker?"
"Yes." Silence reigned. Just because they had reached a truce did not mean they liked each other, they had few common interests after all, and there was an age difference.
"I was friends with your mother," Snape really wasn't quite sure why he was talking about this most sensitive of topics, except for the fact that he knew that if there was anybody who deserved to know, it was the boy who was always longing to know more about his parents.
"Really? But you called her a …"
"I was angry and hurt and I lashed out randomly. It was the biggest mistake of my life." Harry looked like he was longing to ask a million questions, but knew it was wisest to keep silent, "She was the best friend I ever had, I- if I hadn't called her that that day, maybe I wouldn't have become a Death Eater. Who knows?"
"Can you … can you … tell me about her?" Harry asked hesitantly. Snape was silent and Harry said quickly, panicked, "if you don't want to, that's fine. I mean, I'd love it if you did, but I'd understand…"
"Calm yourself Potter," Snape seemed to be gathering himself. "She was the kindest witch to ever walk this planet. She was forever trying to make up with Petunia," he spat the name, "she didn't care about which House you were in, or what class you were born into, or how much money you had. She had wicked sense of humour. Everybody loved her. But she was my best friend until I made my dreadful mistakes." Harry was silent. Snape didn't blame him. He didn't think he had the energy to go on either.
They were never really friends, too much had happened between them for that, but they were no longer enemies. It was fair to say that in a strange kind of way they cared about each other and would protect each other, as they would all their friends. Snape just hoped that Lily, and Harry, and even James Potter could forgive him for all those years he had treated Harry as his he would his father.