If You Wanted to be my Father

The move

There Harry was, his bags packed, sitting in a room he thought would be his. Tears flowed down his face, and he didn't know what to do as a wave of emotions crashed over him, drowning him. 

Under his door slid a gift, and something sparked in him. He knew Snape couldn't be that horrible. The gift was wrapped in golden paper with a simple red bow. It was skillfully presented, and something about it made Harry feel safe. 

He tore open the card, Dear Harry I'm sorry about what happened, Happy birthday, Draco.

The spark distinguished, as he tore the wrapping paper off the small rectangular box. It was a music box, stained an oak wood shade. Intricate carvings curled around the edges, dancing like notes in a song. 

Harry carefully opened the lid and wound up the mechanics. A beautiful sone played, the brass plucking against the points. 

Bum Bum, Dah, Bum Bum, Dah, Dah dah, Bum Bum

The sway of the music moved the room, and everything felt calmer. Was Snape ever Harry's dad? Harry looked down at the purple and yellow bruises littering his torso. He didn't need Snape. He had always taken care of himself why would that stop now? 

Maybe the boy's home wouldn't be so bad. He grabbed his trunk and his newly obtained music box. The clink of his trunk going down a step at a time made Snape's stomach fill with even more guilt. This was the right choice

Right?......

Harry looked Snape dead in the eyes, trying not to let his emotions take over. He was going to hold strong. Prove he didn't need this man who didn't want him. How did this hurt more than any of his bruises, any of the deaths, any night he spent in that god awful place he has once called home?

He couldn't prove himself anymore. He just wasn't wanted here, wasn't needed here. What if he told his friends the whole truth, not a vague notion but all the details showed the bruises, shed tears? Would they be gone then too?

They took a cab to the foster home, as it was typically for muggles. The car brimmed with silence, so quiet it felt as though no one would ever talk again. A chill went down Harry's spine as he stepped out. Snape stayed in, no hug, no meaningful goodbye just a 

"Goodbye Harry, I hope this is better." 

It didn't feel better. 

The hallways of the home creaked with each new step. The boys stared at him, with a sort of fear, wonder, and amusement. The tear tracks from the morning still evident, the weakness still shown clearly on his face. 

He set his bags down in one of the rooms and looked around. A second bed sat by the yellow-tinted window. A wardrobe sat between the two twin beds. A boy came in.

"I'm Ashton your roommate, which home were you in last? Mine was Ashley's across town."

"It's my first one, I was taken to my dads for the summer to get me away from my other relatives, but when he found out about them he thought this would be best."

Harry's eyes never lift off the floor. 

"That's rough, where's your mom?"

"Dead, I thought my dad was too, but then he shows up." 

The sound of Harry's tear hitting the hardwood echoed through the room, as interrupting as squeaking violins, and as the sound of the first bell in a muggle school. 

Harry wrote a letter to Ron, asking him if he could stay with them for the rest of the summer. Hedwig swooped it up and headed out leaving Harry in his thought, as his eyes shut and his brain turned off for the night.