𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹 || 𝗦𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗦𝗻𝗮𝗽𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗕𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟗.

Two days later, sitting at the kitchen table, Snape felt a sharp pang of guilt, like a knife in the chest. Harry was silent. He wouldn't look up, eyes concentrated on the cheerios on his high chair's tray. He'd reverted back to the scared, hesitant little boy he'd been when he'd first come into Snape's care.

I was wrong. Snape thought to himself. There was no doubt about it. Harry had been a little mischievous, true, but he had been happy. This Harry ate less, and no longer spoke.

Snape watched him poke at his cheerios quietly, scooting them around on the tray but not eating any. Of the handful of cheerios which had been placed before him, Harry had eaten only five or six. Snape knew he needed to reevaluate his strategy. He had been too harsh with Harry a couple days before, and a rigorous class schedule the past couple days had prevented him from making a concentrated effort to revive Harry's spirits. In fact, whenever he tried to check on Harry between lessons, he always found Harry sitting in his playpen holding his owl, with his eyes squeezed shut. When Snape would pick him up, Harry would not flinch away, but he wouldn't cling on either. He would merely hold still until he was set down and then he'd just sit quietly. His behavior had Snape not only extremely worried, but also angry with himself. It seemed no matter what he did, he ended up doing a bad job of watching over Harry. He was feeling less and less like a protector, and more and more incapable.

With his morning free from any classes, until after lunch in fact, Snape determined to do his best to get Harry back to normal. He picked up Harry, taking the few steps necessary to cross into the living room, and set Harry down on the living room floor. Immediately Harry lay down on his side, curling slightly in a fetal position, and watching Snape with large, hardly blinking eyes.

"Can we do an activity?" Snape asked in a quiet voice, not so much gentle as tentative, a voice he could not recall every having spoken in before.

Harry made no motion to show he'd heard Snape's question, but instead continued to stare into his face, looking sad and small curled up on the ground.

Hoping the sight of toys might arouse the Potter boy to action, Snape opened the chest and took out a few blocks, a couple plastic animals, the "vroom" car, and a ball. He set these on the floor in front of Harry, but said nothing, hoping he would sit up and play with something.

After waiting for a couple minutes, with no movement on Harry's part, Snape was feeling discouraged. He moved the car closer to Harry, as if tempting him to just play with it. Harry remained unresponsive.

Feeling foolish but desperate Snape managed a "vroom" as he slid the car towards Harry. Instead of cheering him up, this made Harry's bottom lip start to stick out, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Rejected. Snape felt very foolish, and the stab of guilt stuck him again. He had neglected Harry for too long the other day. His "discipline" had made Harry distant, and Snape worried that he would get sick again. If it continued much longer, Harry's hesitance to eat would lead to serious health concerns, especially because he'd been so malnourished before coming into Snape's custody. In addition, Dumbledore's warning that Harry needed to be played with or risk improper development haunted Snape, nagging him in the back of his mind. Silently, Snape put the toys away, seeing this tactic was not working, and decided to try something else.

Snape's next strategy seemed to fare no better. They were seated on the couch, Harry stiffly on Snape's lap. Harry didn't lean back against Snape's chest the way he normally did, but instead sat forward, which Snape knew was likely uncomfortable. Snape was reading out loud to Harry, and had begun reading the way he normally did, fairly monotone, not due to boredom but by default. However, as Harry continued to lack enthusiasm, Snape grew more animated, hoping to get a reaction out of Harry. A laugh, a squeal, a word, anything, but once again he ended his attempts, feeling frustrated as Harry didn't even pat the book, touching the pictures, which was his normal reaction to stories.

Lunch was another quiet affair, and afterwards Snape reluctantly placed Harry in the playpen in his office. He handed Harry his owl and knelt in front of the playpen, wondering what he could do to make Harry happy again. Harry hugged the owl with both arms, burying his face in its furry body.

"Be a good boy," Snape said feebly, hesitating a moment and then standing, and turning to walk into the classroom. Once Snape had left the office Harry lifted his face and looked around the office. Satisfied that he was alone, he laid down and cried, making sure to keep his sniffles quiet so no one would catch him.

Given the circumstances, it would have made sense for Snape to be distracted during his classes, but unfortunately for his students, Snape was sharper than ever. His feelings of incompetency with Harry led him to take added measures of control in the classroom. He began the class by deducting points from Gryffindor, and making a Hufflepuff cry.

When he went in to check on Harry after that first class, Harry's eyes were open but as soon as Harry became aware of Snape's presence he squeezed his eyes shut. Snape could see the glisten of tears on his cheek. Snape bent and wiped Harry's face dry, and Harry held completely still. Snape sighed and straightened up. He had another class to teach, and needed that to be his focus for the next hour. As Snape shut the office door behind him, he heard Harry let out a small whimper. While the sound was pitiful and made the knife of guilt twist deeper, at least it was sound. Snape took a deep breath, and swept into the classroom, instructing his class, as per usual, to turn to his favorite page. Page 394. If Snape had his way, every page would be that page. But Snape rarely did have his way.

After the third quiet meal of the day, Snape was emotionally drained. All day he'd cared so much about getting Harry to respond, and all day Harry had not complied. His guilt was compounded by the fact that he had caused Harry's behavior by ignoring him, and now that Harry was ignoring him in return Snape realized just how difficult it was to deal with the uncertainty. Snape cleaned up Harry's hardly touched food, and picked him up again. He carried him into his study, and sat him on his lap. Like it or not, he had papers to grade, and he knew that trying to read or play again would just lead to more disappointment. Once again, Harry didn't seem comfortable sitting with Snape. How ironic that when Snape actually was willing to let Harry sit there, Harry didn't want to be there. Snape sat Harry on the floor, with a sigh, and turned back to the rolls of parchment scattering his desk, essays by his third years on the differences between various types of poisons. Snape normally found delight in grading essays. He'd sit down with a long quill and a full well of red ink, and proceed to make the parchment bleed with corrections. He was unable to become absorbed in his task this time, though, glancing down at his charge every paragraph or so. After completing about a third of the essays piled on his desk, he noted that Harry had fallen asleep. He stooped to pick up Harry, and carried the little boy to his bedroom. Harry awakened a bit as Snape got him ready for bed, and slid his pajamas on over his head, but didn't stir as he was laid back down in his crib. Snape left Harry's room and returned to his study, making sure both doors were left open, in case Harry should happen to cry.

Finally having finished grading, Snape peeked into Harry's room and saw that the little boy was awake in his crib. He was laying on his side, with his back to the door, and his tiny body was shaking as he cried quietly into his owl.

An ache rose in Snape, and he scooped Harry out of his crib, and held him, settling in the leather rocking chair.

"Professor Snape is very sorry, Harry," he said, rocking back and forth. Apologies, normally a foreign concept to Severus Snape, were not a specialty of his, but this one was sincerely felt. Harry started crying louder, grabbing a fistful of Snape's robes in his left hand, burying his head in his shoulder. Snape patted Harry's back, relieved and oddly very emotional. Harry continued to cry for a few minutes, then calmed down.

"Love Nape," he whimpered, wiping at his eyes with his right hand, his left still full of robe.

Snape said nothing but smiled slightly, a real smile, not a sarcastic smirk or annoyed grimace, and continued to rock.

Harry lightly hit Snape on the chest, trying to get his attention.

"What is it Harry?" Snape asked quietly.

"Nape love Pot?"

Severus couldn't respond at first, but after a few minutes he realized Harry had fallen back to sleep, and as he laid him down in the crib he whispered, so softly that he hardly could hear it himself.

 "Yes."