A new beginning

Comfort

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A loud wail broke Snape out of his thoughts, leaving him slightly confused and disoriented. He had fallen asleep while taking a bath. His face barely above the water, if it had not been for Potter's cries he could have drowned.

Potter! The brat was crying with as much force as his little lungs allowed him to, making it impossible; no matter how much he wanted to; for Snape to ignore the plea for help. Still dripping, he wrapped a soft bathrobe around himself and walked to the screaming child.

Potter's little hands were balled into fists, and his face was scrunched up and beet red. He had been crying for a bit now, but Snape had not heard him. Snape could not help being a bit trepidant to approach the child as in his previous experiences in this close proximity all he had been able to accomplish was a new set of tears to flow from the infant's eyes along with an increase in pitch of the obnoxious wailing.

This time, however, he was able to get close without allowing Potter to sense his presence. But that created a new problem for him. How to let the child know he was there without causing him to faint from the lack of air as he was inevitably bound to release all his breath in a loud wail? He could possibly tap one of the little chubby arms in hope that the crying would stop. But then Potter would flinch away from him, causing him to fall on his side and probably begin crying with increased force. Or maybe, he should simply wait it out, the less he moved the less of a chance he would cause a new breakdown.

Luckily, and surprisingly, no more planning was required from the Potion's Master as due to some amazing miracle Potter ceased his crying as soon as he saw the dour face staring back at him. Instead of bursting into tears, the confused infant used his soaked hands to indicate his wish to be picked up. The tear-stained fists closed and opened in sync to the soft sobs as they were held in the air near Snape.

He had no other options. Potter had seen him. He could not risk backing away to the security his bathroom had provided, it would surely lead to more crying. As was apparently doing his stalling. Potter had started to sob in a very audible fashion and his little shoulders were hitching up in tune. The fists had also begun to open and close more frantically. He had to do something drastic and fast. He had to pick Potter up.

Stretching his hands in the direction of Potter's body, the Potion's Master attempted to figure out the best way to comfort said child while also keeping minimum contact. He placed his hands underneath the little armpits and hoisted the child up. Turning slightly sideways to get into a more comfortable position where the crib was not in the way, he allowed Potter to dangle at a safe distance.

Potter on the other hand had other ideas. As soon as Snape had situated himself with a suspended toddler at arm's length, Potter began to squirm, causing Snape to struggle to hold the child in place. Potter's legs were pulled towards his stomach and alternated between kicking towards the ground and aiming at the Professor. The hands were back to closing and opening, but this time they would take hold of the bathrobe around Snape and pull it a bit. His face was again scrunched up and tears were freely flowing out of his eyes along with pitiful whimpers.

Understanding but hating Potter's request, Snape decided that he did not have any other option but to bring the child closer to him. Of course, he could always continue to struggle to hold him in place and endure the tears and fuss aimed his way. Potter was sure to tire at some point or pass out for lack of air. But there was always the risk of losing his hold. Madame Pomfrey had not lied when she said a distressed child was like holding a fish out of water. Yet, if he dropped Potter then he would be deemed an unsuitable guardian and he would not be in this predicament anymore. Maybe it was not such a bad idea after all.

A hard kick to his arm brought the Professor back from his thoughts, only to realize Potter's state had escalated back to how he was found after Snape's bath. All of his planning flew out the window once the Potion's Master was hit again with the realization of what he had to do.Very slowly, he moved his hands back towards his chest, hating himself for allowing this to happen. Once Potter was close enough to his chest, the little hands flew forward and took hold of the robe's neck and attempted to pull Potter's body closer to the Professor. Not knowing what else to do, Snape allowed his hands to shift and placed one underneath the small bottom and one behind the slightly damp back.

Potter, on his part, held on to the bathrobe for dear life and continued to breathe through the sobs and hiccups escaping from his lips. Allowing himself to get more comfortable on the crook of the Potion's Master's neck, he began to curl his legs in, forcing the hand that was carrying his weight to shift to the crook of an arm. The fingers behind his back began to slowly drum (clearly because Snape was exasperated with the whole situation), making the cuddle all the more enjoyable.