Little Harry trembled violently as he felt himself beginning to drift off again. It had only been a short while since the red haired ghost had given him her message that help was coming, but it seemed like it had been ages ago to his small mind.
The rain continued to pour down, drenching the messy-haired child, as he desperately tries to burrow deeper into his wet clothes for warmth; knowing that his attempts were fruitless since there was no body heat to offer, if his frozen-stiff body was any other indication.
Was help really coming, he briefly wondered, with his head tucked between his knees, before he was assaulted by another violent spasm up his spine; letting out a hoarse, rasping cough.
Either way, it didn't seem like help was coming anytime soon, less alone come in time to save him from the fuzziness of sleep again that was managing to resurface and pull him back under. It seemed the child wouldn't be escaping death a second time.
Oh, but the angel's message did sound very promising, and he couldn't bring himself to lose his trust over the nice red haired lady, since he only ever trusted few people that were kind and understanding to him.
But it was nice to know someone was kind enough to care about him and stop him from dying just yet; very, very kind of them.
He didn't think he could wait any longer, as his eyelids drooped closed and the black wave blocking his eyesight finally pulled him back under.
After stepping out of Arabella's fireplace in a flurry of green flames, and much apologies for the sudden arrival, Severus Snape was walking briskly down the road through Privet Drive with a notice-me-not charm, trying to locate number four among all the other identical, plain-boxed houses in the pouring rain.
Upon locating the correct house and slipping into the backyard, he was greeted by a sight that shocked him to his very bones
At first glance, it looked as if it were some sort of dying wild animal, yet on closer inspection, realization struck. Lying on the steps to the back door lay a child looking no bigger than 3, with a head of damp, messy black hair connecting with a frail, skinny-looking body.
Besides the lack of a falling chest to indicate his breathing, the small creature was lying on its side, arms and legs splayed out in front of him, hanging limply on the edge of the stairs as if some brute force had tossed him like a bag of rocks. Along with the frozen blue skin, any sane human being would have believed that this child was already dead.
Which, as this thought crossed the potions professor's mind, he had already crossed the length of the area and appeared by the small child's side in a flash.
This couldn't be the Potter spawn! he thought as he quickly assessed the state of the boy
"Please, Merlin, don't let it be him" he muttered.
But upon closer inspection of the heated forehead hidden behind a mop of hair, he was met by the infamous lightning shaped scar.
He sucked in a breath. There was no doubt. This was none other than the boy savior of the world, Harry Potter, and if he didn't bring him back to Hogwarts quick enough there would BE no savior left to save the wizarding world!
But this was the supposedly pampered prince living in the muggle world? The boy could've been mistaken for a street urchin, or even a stray animal for Merlin's sake!
Severus Snape gingerly picked up the boy with great care he only showed when brewing potions, and enveloped the small child nestled in his cloak. Harry had involuntarily curled his fingers on to the professor's cloak and pressed himself closer to the man's warm, beating chest.
The boy was a sack of skin and bones! He weighed literally nothing! Severus noted with mild alarm and concern. He could feel every bone that protruded of the lad's small structure, and if it wasn't for the fact that the boy couldn't do magic yet, he would've thought the child had learned to do a featherlight charm on himself.
Besides the lack of heat that should have been radiating off the child's body, as well as the blue lips of hypothermia, he was concerned of the boy's magical pulse, in which the core was almost snuffed out from the physical strain and illness.
With a billow of his cloak as he crossed the streets with long strides, he sent a silent prayer to Lily; to help her boy hold on to the single thread of life still left.
Unbeknownst to little Harry, he was getting just what he wished for: to be rescued and taken away from his mean uncle and aunty.
As Severus crossed the threshold of the home of one shocked Arabella Figg, he stepped through the floo to Hogwarts.
Hi fellas, was feeling guilty over not updating and this was stuck on my laptop for a while, never being uploaded. The plot bunny came back and demanded I upload already for ransom. And of course seeing so many people following me but with no updates since, like what, last year? It made me feel a little guilty for becoming one of those authors that leaves a wonderfully good story to never be updated again. That would be…upsetting to me. Of course, I'm not a born writer and my interests are in another area but what usually stops me from writing is my self-conscious. What will people think of me? Is this actually any good? Man, this sounds like shit. Depressing stuff like that. But I guess I'll add some stuff once in a while when I feel like not many good fluffy Severitus stories are out there to appease my hunger for a cute little Harry and an over protective Daddy Snape.
God, that was embarrassing to write.