A new beginning

Making Sense

Harry closed the door behind him, leaning his back against the cool wood. His head made a soft sound as it touched it. He was dead.

An overwhelming sadness spread through him. His room. Snape said 'his room'. Never in his life had he had a proper room to call his own. His cousin instead had two. He finally had one. And he had been sent there because he messed everything up.

Tears were burning his eyes and throat. Harry felt the first one fall. Leaving a warm path all the way to his neck. A second one followed. And then the rest.

His hand traveled under his glasses, making an attempt to rid himself of the tears, but it was in vain. He took his glasses off instead. Placed them on top of the desk. He was dead. Snape would either murder him or; no matter what the man had said days before; send him away. There was no way Snape wanted to keep him now. He could not control his magic, he constantly got in trouble. He didn't mean to, but it seemed like he was always doing something to land him in trouble.

But not anymore. Snape would come in at any second and murder him. No more room for him. Nor a Dursley-free life.

Snape opened his eyes, glancing at the clock on the mantel. Fifteen minutes. He sent Potter to his room fifteen minutes ago. He closed his eyes again.

He had sent the child's lunch to him and cleaned the mess Potter left in the supply closet. It had only taken a flick of his wand. He would have to go out to replenish his supplies though. A lot of them.

Twenty minutes. He let out a sigh.

There was something that was bothering him. Something about the events themselves, but also something about Potter. Part of him wanted to blame the child completely. Say he was lying. That the child had intentionally opened all those doors with the sole purpose of going after his supplies. But, he didn't believe that. Nor could he.

Potter and he were different. They had different childhoods. They must have had different childhoods. He was Lily's kid, and he was, Severus Snape. Yet, there were times when he felt they were not so far apart. And if that intuition, that feeling, was correct he needed to become not only a person Potter trusted but someone who trusted the child.

But it was very difficult. He was angry. Potter could do better. Behave better. Life was not simple, and the child needed to learn that whether he wanted to or not, he was looked up to by many members of the wizarding community.

Potter was just a child though. Doing what children do. Push against boundaries, fight against restraints. All part of childhood. Something that he never really had. At least not that he enjoyed having.

Thirty-five minutes had gone by now. Snape ran a hand down his face. He knew what he had to do. It would be hard, go against his instincts, but it would be a step in the right direction. Or at least he hoped so.

Thirty-seven minutes. He could do it.

Snape quickly knocked on the door twice with a knuckle. That same hand traveling down to turn the knob. He opened the door.

Harry was barely able to suppress a groan. He squished his face further down the pillow, using a hand on each side of his face to bring the pillow closer. If Snape did not start walloping him now he would begin crying all over again and never stop until he died of dehydration.

"I hope this time has allowed you to reflect on the many misdeeds you committed this morning," said Snape's stern voice from somewhere above Harry.

Harry breathed through his mouth as he nodded his head into the pillow, willing himself to hold the tears a little bit longer.

Snape remained silent for a few seconds. He hoped the child would turn around and face up to the consequences of his actions, but it seemed those were too high of expectations. Three more seconds in silence. He looked around the room.