It was late at night, the infirmary's open windows letting in the gentle beginning of a summer breeze. Shadows were cast over the empty beds from the almost-full moon.
One bed wasn't empty. The bed held a ashen faced boy, with tangled black hair spread across the crisp white pillow.
A shadow moved silently, coming to stand beside the bed. The shadow was mostly black: The silky hair, the narrowed eyes, the long robes, except for the face and hands, which were creamy white.
The shadow man sat on the edge of the bed, just looking down at the sick and injured fifth, soon to be sixth year.
Severus Snape thought the boy definitely favored Lily when he was unconscious, which was partly the reason the usually stoic man visited him in the hospital wing at night.
Only partly.
The truth was, coming to care for the small boy had been easy. Too easy.
From the first time the boy laughed (he had that ridiculous laughter—complete with snorts and loudness—the same as his redheaded mother), the boy had secretly been his.
But he had to keep up images.
That was the hardest: To say the boy was arrogant, when he was so shy. To say the boy was spoiled and pampered, when, sadly, the signs pointed the opposite way. To be mean, scathing, to watch as the child's face crumble the first time he degraded him...
He even had to ignore things. The way Harry smelled somewhat of vomit before his class—as if Severus made him feel that bad. The way Draco's body-guards would beat up the child. The memories during Occlumency...
Yes, the Pensieve was a set up. Truth be told, Severus couldn't watch another memory of the child being turned away by the ones that were supposed to care about him the most...how they told him they didn't care, nobody cared...
"I care, I hope you know," the tall man whispered, grabbing a soft wet cloth and dabbing Harry's flushed cheeks. "I always have, but I can't show it."
He laughed darkly. "Just imagine how it would look. ME, the greasy git of the dungeons, caring for YOU, Harry Potter, the boy who lived. Preposterous!" The man felt a strange emotion bubble up inside of him when he saw the child's forehead crinkle, and a lone tear run down the fevered face.
"But I do. If image wasn't the only thing keeping both if us alive, you would have moved in with me years ago... But image is all we have." Harry moved his head so Snape's hand rested on his soft cheek, letting out a contented sigh when the man gently rubbed it. "Despite everything, you're so strong...I wasn't..."
"I loved your mother, and hated your father. But you are neither her, nor him. You grew up too differently. If anything, you're more like me... I bet that's really a downer." The child suddenly moaned, his hands moving to press on his thin stomach. Severus hesitantly touched the boy's shoulder, rubbing away the tension.
"You have too much pain. Too much on your shoulders. And now with your dogfather... I...I'm sorry, child. I...I really wish... I want to be there for you. Not just in secret..."
The man trailed off, realizing the boy was awakening. Standing, Severus quickly strode out the door, unshed tears glistening in his ebony eyes.
O_.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._.~•*'*•~._O
A/N He really did care for him. *Dies of cuteness overload*
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