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Severus cleared his throat again. Merlin, this was difficult. “Potter—” he began quietly, but cut himself off when the boy startled. Potter spun around to face Severus, and that’s when he noticed it. The blood.
It was like a switch, the way all awkwardness traded itself for concern. “What happened?” he asked sharply, eyes zeroing in on the hand that, now not held to Potter’s chest, was dripping blood onto the floor.
What if, instead of fighting Dementors, Harry spent the summer before Fifth Year writing to the nameless, faceless man that he found in a photograph of his mother?
Bookmarked by Charlie_The_Transformer
08 Apr 2026
