A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters
Word count: 326
But then he looked at Severus with those green eyes, the eyes that Severus had once loved, and a new emotion gripped his heart. Regret. He had regretted saying those things to her all those years ago, regretted that he hadn't tried harder to find her, to save her. He knew her blood wasn't literally on his hands, but he could still see it in his mind's eye. If he'd never told Dumbledore… Wait, Dumbledore had promised to protect them. He'd failed. A twinge of a smile formed on the dour man's lips.
"Sir?" Potter asked. "Are you…smiling?" There was disbelief in the boy's voice, and Severus wasn't at all surprised. He'd given this child no reason to think he ever smiled.
Severus fought back the urge to give the boy a snarky answer. No, the proof of Dumbledore's failure, his breaking of the vow, was sitting in front of him. He knew the meddling old fool would have a loophole, but as far as Severus' conscious was concerned, Dumbledore had more blood on his hands than Severus.
"And if I am smiling, Potter?" he asked.
"Does that mean you figured something out? Uncle Vernon always smiled when he figured out something, especially if it was a new way to torture me," Potter answered. Severus blinked his eyes. He'd known Petunia was a right idiot, but he had never expected the boy to be tortured!
"I have, I have figured out that living with your aunt and uncle is a completely moronic idea, Dumblediore should have done better research. Now, on your feet, Potter, because we are going to find you another, suitable, blood relative, and since all the pure-blood's are related somehow, I have a feeling we will have absolutely no problem doing so."
"Yes, sir," Potter chirped, hopping to his feet and following Severus from the room, his heart full of what could be described as a muted hope.