Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. I make no money doing this.
It is merely a pastime that I have grown immensely fond of.
Severus shivered and wrapped the edge of the blanket around his tiny body. As soon as the bad men had been distracted he had begun to move. He didn't care if he got hit for it again; he was going to get away from them. The one called Jaques had cast a spell, but it had gone over his head as he dropped over the side and hid back underneath the bed.
He heard the door creak slightly and was suddenly aware that another person had entered the room. He crouched as small as he could, hoping they wouldn't find him again.
Daddy, he wanted his daddy. Tears began to flow down his cheeks again. Where was he? Why didn't he come?
"Severus?" Severus stopped shaking for a second. He though he had heard…
"Severus! Child where are you?" There was fear in this new voice but to his ears it sounded just like… Slowly, mindful of the bruises on his body, Severus climbed to his feet. His head didn't reach the top of the bed but the color of his hair and the movement attracted attention.
Hands reached for him and he quickly shut his eyes. 'Please, not again.' But the hands were gentle this time, though a bit frantic. And familiar, they were familiar. Long arms wrapped around him held him close. Severus moved slightly and lay his cheek against the warm chest.
"Daddy?" he whispered, eyes still closed.
"Yes, I'm here child. Ssshh, I'm here." Severus's eyes opened and he twisted around to look up at his father's concerned, frightfully ashen face. Timidly, he wrapped his thin arms around his parent's neck, his fragile fingers twisting into the auburn locks that nearly matched his own. Safe, he was safe.
Severus didn't complain as he was wrapped in a sheet from his bed or as he was taken downstairs and then outside into the cold night. All he cared was that his father had come to rescue him from the bad ones.
Dumbledore hurried down the walk, tightened his hold on his child and then dissipated. Not a terribly safe thing, but he needed to get Severus far away and quickly.
Once, twice, three times they appeared and disappeared until Dumbledore decided they had warped their magic trail enough so that no one could follow them.
He looked around and vaguely took note of their surroundings. They were in a cramped wooden cabin where the nearest person was over fifty miles away. In the room they had appeared in there were only a few pieces of worn furniture and a fireplace that looked like it hadn't been used in decades.
Only once they were safely here in this forsaken place did Dumbledore loosen his grip on his son. He sat down on the beat up couch with Severus and looked him over.
No bones seemed broken, thank the gods for small favors, but the sight of the bruises spreading over the pale skin and the blood both drying and smeared made him feel queasy. What monster had dared to hurt his child?
He reached to touch and Severus flinched. Then the boy looked away, ashamed. His father had never, never harmed him. Why was he running then? Severus's eyes begin to fill with tears one more. He didn't understand.
"My poor baby," Dumbledore whispered softly, drawing Severus back into his arms and rubbing comforting circles on the tiny back. Again he mentally cursed the two who had abused his child. But taking a shaky breath he preceded to push the dark rage back down. Severus needed kindness and care. His anger could do nothing but get the boy more upset.
"It's alright, Severus. They can't hurt you anymore." Severus hid his face in the soft hair and cried in soft sniffling tones, looking for comfort in his father's arms.
Dumbledore just held him close and let his love for his child override the hate he felt towards the boy's attackers. Severus's shaking diminished and Dumbledore rocked him gently, speaking in low tones and reassuring the boy that he wasn't alone anymore.
"Why does he hate you?" Dumbledore was surprised at the soft question and pulled back to see his child's face.
"What do you mean, Severus?" The child rubbed at his eyes, not really wanting to talk about it.
"They," his voice shook slightly, "they said that he wanted you hurt and the best way to do that was to hurt me." The trembling was back.
"Why? What did I do?" The blue eyes pleaded for an answer and Dumbledore drew his son back to him with a heavy heart. There was no need to as who the 'they' were that Severus was referring to. But how did he go about explaining the evils of the world to a four-year-old?
"Severus, as you get older you are going to find that there are many different kinds of people in the world. Some of those people are bad. They hurt others. When people try to stop them, like I have in the past, they sometimes attack families. They don't like me and because you are my child they have decided they don't like you. It is nothing you have done. Do you understand, Severus? You have done nothing wrong." Severus nodded and shifted slightly before curling back against him.
Dumbledore frowned suddenly. Something was bothering him, something Severus had said.
"Severus," he inquired gently, "Did they say who wanted to hurt us?" Severus's eyes opened briefly as he thought about the conversation between the men wearing black. There had been a name. It had reminded him of word puzzles.
"Riddle," Severus replied, closing his eyes. That was the name. The protective arms around him suddenly went tighter and he squirmed uncomfortably. The crushing hold did not loosen. Actually, it was getting kind of hard to breathe.
"Daddy, you're hurting me." Dumbledore started at the upset voice and released him. In his initial reaction he hadn't realized he was holding him so close.
"I'm sorry, child," he said gently touching the boy's cheek in apology.
Severus watched him, a bit confused at his behavior. Then he nodded his acceptance and curled back against him. Dumbledore hugged him carefully and then let his mind drift to what Severus had told him.
Riddle. Dumbledore had heard that the man had gone deep into the Dark Arts, but usually such wizards ended up destroying themselves before truly mastering the powers of Black Magic.
Apparently Tom had better control on the powers then he expected. And if Tom had gathered people that would willingly carryout the murder of a child for him… With a shiver, Dumbledore remembered the determination and single mindedness of the young student he had known. If Tom Riddle was trying to gather followers, he would get them.
Dumbledore let his thoughts drift to the future. In several years, Tom could very well start a war if he wished. He was persuasive and never believed that there was something he couldn't accomplish, no matter who he hurt in the process. If he wanted it, he would get it one way or another.
That thought in his mind, Dumbledore looked down at his son, nearly asleep in his arms. If Tom Riddle became determined to kill Severus, nothing short of a miracle could save him.
Dumbledore slowly began to stand up and Severus's eyes snapped open. In a blind panic his small hands fastened onto his father's hair and held fast, preventing him from leaving.
"It's okay, Severus," Dumbledore said soothingly, trying to calm him, "I'm just going to make a cup of tea." Severus shook his head and held tighter.
A slight smile finding it's way to his lips, Dumbledore picked up his son and carried him about the room as he went about preparing the hot water, the Muggle way. He needed the contact as much as Severus did, maybe more.
After preparing a cup of tea for himself and a mixture of lukewarm tea and milk for Severus, Dumbledore sat back down on the couch. He held the latter drink up to Severus's mouth and encouraged the boy to drink it. Severus took a few tiny sips before pushing the cup away and opting to curl up on his father's lap.
Dumbledore replaced the barely used cup and smiled at the dozing child. So peaceful despite what he had just gone through; so innocent, so fragile a life. He gently stroked the soft auburn hair and pulled Severus closer so that he was resting more fully against him; his most precious possession.
Then he turned his mind on what to do now. How long he sat there thinking, he did not know. In the time that passed he thought up several plans and had dismissed each. It had been wishful thinking; there was only one way that he could save his child.
Gently, so not to wake him, Dumbledore moved Severus off his lap on lay him down on the couch. After carefully tucking an old woolen blanket around him to keep him warm, Dumbledore moved into the only other room and cast a silencing spell and then a locking charm on the door.
With a heavy heart, he ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head wildly to mess up it.
Then he began the process of recalling the panic and fear he had felt before he had found Severus still alive, the moments after the killing curse and but before the appearance of his son. The moments when there was a real chance that his child was lost forever.
There, he was shaking again; perfect.
He started a fire and called for the Minister of Magic. Within seconds the white head appeared amid the flames and grinned cheerfully.
"Albus old boy, there you are. We were wondering when-" Dumbledore didn't let the Minister finish and cut in sharply, his eyes wild with pain.
"He's dead."
TBC
~Evil, ain't I?
Severus shivered and wrapped the edge of the blanket around his tiny body. As soon as the bad men had been distracted he had begun to move. He didn't care if he got hit for it again; he was going to get away from them. The one called Jaques had cast a spell, but it had gone over his head as he dropped over the side and hid back underneath the bed.
He heard the door creak slightly and was suddenly aware that another person had entered the room. He crouched as small as he could, hoping they wouldn't find him again.
Daddy, he wanted his daddy. Tears began to flow down his cheeks again. Where was he? Why didn't he come?
"Severus?" Severus stopped shaking for a second. He though he had heard…
"Severus! Child where are you?" There was fear in this new voice but to his ears it sounded just like… Slowly, mindful of the bruises on his body, Severus climbed to his feet. His head didn't reach the top of the bed but the color of his hair and the movement attracted attention.
Hands reached for him and he quickly shut his eyes. 'Please, not again.' But the hands were gentle this time, though a bit frantic. And familiar, they were familiar. Long arms wrapped around him held him close. Severus moved slightly and lay his cheek against the warm chest.
"Daddy?" he whispered, eyes still closed.
"Yes, I'm here child. Ssshh, I'm here." Severus's eyes opened and he twisted around to look up at his father's concerned, frightfully ashen face. Timidly, he wrapped his thin arms around his parent's neck, his fragile fingers twisting into the auburn locks that nearly matched his own. Safe, he was safe.
Severus didn't complain as he was wrapped in a sheet from his bed or as he was taken downstairs and then outside into the cold night. All he cared was that his father had come to rescue him from the bad ones.
Dumbledore hurried down the walk, tightened his hold on his child and then dissipated. Not a terribly safe thing, but he needed to get Severus far away and quickly.
Once, twice, three times they appeared and disappeared until Dumbledore decided they had warped their magic trail enough so that no one could follow them.
He looked around and vaguely took note of their surroundings. They were in a cramped wooden cabin where the nearest person was over fifty miles away. In the room they had appeared in there were only a few pieces of worn furniture and a fireplace that looked like it hadn't been used in decades.
Only once they were safely here in this forsaken place did Dumbledore loosen his grip on his son. He sat down on the beat up couch with Severus and looked him over.
No bones seemed broken, thank the gods for small favors, but the sight of the bruises spreading over the pale skin and the blood both drying and smeared made him feel queasy. What monster had dared to hurt his child?
He reached to touch and Severus flinched. Then the boy looked away, ashamed. His father had never, never harmed him. Why was he running then? Severus's eyes begin to fill with tears one more. He didn't understand.
"My poor baby," Dumbledore whispered softly, drawing Severus back into his arms and rubbing comforting circles on the tiny back. Again he mentally cursed the two who had abused his child. But taking a shaky breath he preceded to push the dark rage back down. Severus needed kindness and care. His anger could do nothing but get the boy more upset.
"It's alright, Severus. They can't hurt you anymore." Severus hid his face in the soft hair and cried in soft sniffling tones, looking for comfort in his father's arms.
Dumbledore just held him close and let his love for his child override the hate he felt towards the boy's attackers. Severus's shaking diminished and Dumbledore rocked him gently, speaking in low tones and reassuring the boy that he wasn't alone anymore.
"Why does he hate you?" Dumbledore was surprised at the soft question and pulled back to see his child's face.
"What do you mean, Severus?" The child rubbed at his eyes, not really wanting to talk about it.
"They," his voice shook slightly, "they said that he wanted you hurt and the best way to do that was to hurt me." The trembling was back.
"Why? What did I do?" The blue eyes pleaded for an answer and Dumbledore drew his son back to him with a heavy heart. There was no need to as who the 'they' were that Severus was referring to. But how did he go about explaining the evils of the world to a four-year-old?
"Severus, as you get older you are going to find that there are many different kinds of people in the world. Some of those people are bad. They hurt others. When people try to stop them, like I have in the past, they sometimes attack families. They don't like me and because you are my child they have decided they don't like you. It is nothing you have done. Do you understand, Severus? You have done nothing wrong." Severus nodded and shifted slightly before curling back against him.
Dumbledore frowned suddenly. Something was bothering him, something Severus had said.
"Severus," he inquired gently, "Did they say who wanted to hurt us?" Severus's eyes opened briefly as he thought about the conversation between the men wearing black. There had been a name. It had reminded him of word puzzles.
"Riddle," Severus replied, closing his eyes. That was the name. The protective arms around him suddenly went tighter and he squirmed uncomfortably. The crushing hold did not loosen. Actually, it was getting kind of hard to breathe.
"Daddy, you're hurting me." Dumbledore started at the upset voice and released him. In his initial reaction he hadn't realized he was holding him so close.
"I'm sorry, child," he said gently touching the boy's cheek in apology.
Severus watched him, a bit confused at his behavior. Then he nodded his acceptance and curled back against him. Dumbledore hugged him carefully and then let his mind drift to what Severus had told him.
Riddle. Dumbledore had heard that the man had gone deep into the Dark Arts, but usually such wizards ended up destroying themselves before truly mastering the powers of Black Magic.
Apparently Tom had better control on the powers then he expected. And if Tom had gathered people that would willingly carryout the murder of a child for him… With a shiver, Dumbledore remembered the determination and single mindedness of the young student he had known. If Tom Riddle was trying to gather followers, he would get them.
Dumbledore let his thoughts drift to the future. In several years, Tom could very well start a war if he wished. He was persuasive and never believed that there was something he couldn't accomplish, no matter who he hurt in the process. If he wanted it, he would get it one way or another.
That thought in his mind, Dumbledore looked down at his son, nearly asleep in his arms. If Tom Riddle became determined to kill Severus, nothing short of a miracle could save him.
Dumbledore slowly began to stand up and Severus's eyes snapped open. In a blind panic his small hands fastened onto his father's hair and held fast, preventing him from leaving.
"It's okay, Severus," Dumbledore said soothingly, trying to calm him, "I'm just going to make a cup of tea." Severus shook his head and held tighter.
A slight smile finding it's way to his lips, Dumbledore picked up his son and carried him about the room as he went about preparing the hot water, the Muggle way. He needed the contact as much as Severus did, maybe more.
After preparing a cup of tea for himself and a mixture of lukewarm tea and milk for Severus, Dumbledore sat back down on the couch. He held the latter drink up to Severus's mouth and encouraged the boy to drink it. Severus took a few tiny sips before pushing the cup away and opting to curl up on his father's lap.
Dumbledore replaced the barely used cup and smiled at the dozing child. So peaceful despite what he had just gone through; so innocent, so fragile a life. He gently stroked the soft auburn hair and pulled Severus closer so that he was resting more fully against him; his most precious possession.
Then he turned his mind on what to do now. How long he sat there thinking, he did not know. In the time that passed he thought up several plans and had dismissed each. It had been wishful thinking; there was only one way that he could save his child.
Gently, so not to wake him, Dumbledore moved Severus off his lap on lay him down on the couch. After carefully tucking an old woolen blanket around him to keep him warm, Dumbledore moved into the only other room and cast a silencing spell and then a locking charm on the door.
With a heavy heart, he ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head wildly to mess up it.
Then he began the process of recalling the panic and fear he had felt before he had found Severus still alive, the moments after the killing curse and but before the appearance of his son. The moments when there was a real chance that his child was lost forever.
There, he was shaking again; perfect.
He started a fire and called for the Minister of Magic. Within seconds the white head appeared amid the flames and grinned cheerfully.
"Albus old boy, there you are. We were wondering when-" Dumbledore didn't let the Minister finish and cut in sharply, his eyes wild with pain.
"He's dead."
TBC
~Evil, ain't I?