Chapter 4
293words
Harry glanced his way every few minutes, unaware that Little Snape was conducting his own observations. *When I "accidentally" dropped that crayon earlier, he rushed to help. Interesting. He responds most actively to displays of helplessness. Being needed makes him feel valuable.*
Little Snape's mental Harry-observation log had been growing steadily. He closed his book and studied the teenager, who sat with his chin propped on one hand, staring into space. After days together, he'd mapped most of Harry's habits—during holidays, besides meals in the Great Hall, the boy mostly just drifted in his own thoughts.
Tonight was different, though.
Tonight Harry's gaze kept returning to him, looking through him as if seeing someone else entirely.
*Who was I before?* Little Snape wondered. *They say I taught at this school, but what kind of person was I?*
*I matter to him somehow. Not this current version of me, but whoever I was before.*
"Harry," Little Snape broke the silence, "what are you thinking about?"
Harry jumped slightly, as if pulled from deep thoughts. "What? Nothing, I was just..."
"You're seeing someone else when you look at me," little Snape stated bluntly, black eyes boring into Harry's face. "I see nostalgia and dependence in your expression—not feelings one typically has for a child, and certainly not for a professor."
Harry's face flushed crimson. He opened his mouth to deny it, but under little Snape's penetrating gaze, the words died in his throat.
"I was important to you, wasn't I?" little Snape pressed. "Before becoming... this. I meant something to you."
Harry remained silent for a long moment, firelight dancing on his glasses. Finally, he whispered: "Yes. You were important."
