𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹 || 𝗦𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗦𝗻𝗮𝗽𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗕𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟒.

This was an absolute nightmare. Not the recurring one where he taught an entire potions class without his robes on. Not the haunting one where he watched Lily die. Not the completely unexplainable dream where he turned into a bat and was chased from the Divinations tower by Professor Trelawney.

Nor, indeed, the kind of nightmare that Severus could shake off upon waking up – because he was awake.

This kind of nightmare was the living, breathing kind where somehow a little boy could suddenly walk and was getting into every. Single. Thing.

He should have expected it. Harry had been pulling himself up on furniture for some time. And his frantic crawling was bound to turn into walking at some point, certainly.

At first, it hadn't been so bad. Snape had been reading the Daily Prophet while Harry played with his animal toys at his feet. Harry had been playing quietly that day – a true treat for Severus who hardly got to enjoy a moment of quiet anymore – and Snape had only looked down because he felt a pull on the cushion he sat upon.

Harry was pulling himself up, and smiling up at Snape, waiting for praise.

"Good standing," Severus said, noncommittally. He understood he needed to validate Harry's progress if he were going to improve, but standing really wasn't that tremendous of a feat, was it?

His apathy disappeared as Harry turned his shining eyes from Snape's face, and with all the focus he could muster let go of the chair, and took a few wobbling steps forward.

Snape dropped the paper, watching as Harry toddled across the room. Three, four, five wiggling steps, and then down he fell. Waiting for a cry of alarm at the fall, Severus stood from the chair, about to reassure Potter that his effort had been valiant indeed, but Harry pushed himself up, resolutely, and began to walk again.

Snape felt pleased. He wasn't raising a fusser or a quitter. No, Harry was turning into quite the motivated, centered young man. As Harry reached the sofa, he turned and beamed at Snape who crossed the room quickly and knelt at Harry's side.

"Well done, Mr. Potter," he said, very seriously. "That was some fine walking."

"Oh, Pot walk!" Harry said, nodding his head, clearly very pleased with himself. "Pot walk like Nape. Pot walk all the ways."

Snape had encouraged him all that evening. He'd taken Harry's chubby little fist in his hand and helped him walk from the living room to the kitchen. When Harry's legs began to wobble even more, Snape stood behind Harry and held both his hands, Harry reaching over his head and concentrating on each step.

As Snape put Harry in his crib he told him what a good job he had done that day, and how they would practice walking again tomorrow.

He wished he'd never said it. The next day, Harry was beyond practicing, and was all about doing. Severus had set him on the floor in the kitchen to play for a bit while he got their breakfast. His back had been turned for all of twelve seconds when there was a smash and a, "Oops."

Harry had pulled the drawer clean out from the cabinet, and forks and spoons were everywhere. Snape was glad the drawer hadn't landed on Harry's head, and moved to pick up the cutlery. He reminded himself not to be frustrated. Harry was a child. He was learning to walk. That would mean less carrying about, which would certainly be a good thing for his image. Sometimes messes were made and accidents happened. There was no use berating the boy for this.

It wasn't until he had replaced the drawer and returned to grab their bowls and another clatter of objects falling made him turn that he realized this walking thing might not be all positive.