In Need

CHAPTER 4

NOTES:

HELLO dear readers!

Here I come with Chapter 4, I hope you like it.I've spent the last few days drafting an outline for the following chapters, since I knew what I wanted but I had no real sense of direction. From now on publications will be a bit slower, but I'll keep them coming. It's a strange situation for me, since I rarely post WIPs, so be patient.Thanks again for reading and commenting!ENJOY!

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Sunday evening rolled around in the blink of an eye. Harry hadn't heard from Severus all day, and he doubted he would in a few days at least. He had a lot to think about; after all, this new journey they were deciding whether to embark on, was a huge step for him. Harry knew Severus enough to know he was the analytical sort and needed time to ponder what to do.

He still couldn't believe he'd seen Severus as a Little. Severus seemed to be so detached from his childhood that it felt surreal for him to go back to that time of innocence. However, the more Harry thought about it, the less surprising it became. He had a lot of emotional baggage to deal with, and it all went back to the first years of his life. His drunken father was the first, but there have been many others after him, and none could see how damaged Severus really was.

Harry was no fool, he knew he had been part of the problem as well. His own existence had affected Severus a great deal, and not only in his role against Voldemort. The blindfold fell from his eyes after seeing his memories, as Harry realized what had been hidden to him in plain sight.

Everyone had always told him he had his mother's eyes, but he'd never seen it so clearly as when Severus locked his gaze with him. His black eyes would glisten and unfocus, as if he wasn't seeing him, not really. For a split second, every time their gazes met, Severus was seeing a person with freckles and red hair, not with black hair and glasses. That was, of course, until he recovered his senses. When he did he would blink, realizing that he was, in fact, looking at the spitting image of James Potter himself, and his vitriol returned tenfold. As if he was punishing himself for such loss of judgement, for his loss of control.

His own past hatred for Severus had only added fuel to the fire. How Severus must've loathed him, being the reason the woman he loved was dead, and still playing the hero and putting everyone else in danger. Merlin, Harry sometimes was horrified at how foolish he'd been. And still, instead of getting away - which was what Severus must've wanted - he stayed. He spat venom in his face while behind his back he protected him against one of the world's darkest wizards. Keeping him alive until he could face his destiny. It was so messed up Harry felt sorry for the man.

Harry sighed, leaving the quill and the red ink on his desk, taking his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He'd been trying to correct some papers to keep his mind occupied, but it had been futile. His mind kept going back to the dungeons, to Severus. He'd left after breakfast, supposing he would want some peace and calm after everything that had gone on the night before. That didn't mean he was happy to do so, though. His own heart ached to see him again, to make sure he was doing alright, but he could do nothing now. He'd offered his hand, now he had to wait for Severus to take it.

On Monday morning Harry's feet dragged him to the Great Hall for breakfast, having slept very little. Dumbledore was absent, but that wasn't unheard of, and in fact, it made Harry a bit less apprehensive, one less thing to worry about for now.

A few minutes after he'd arrived Minerva sat next to him, and he felt her eyes on him the entire time. But he couldn't speak to her, not in front of everyone.