It has been a two days since their argument. Their relationship hasn't been getting any better. It was safe to say that it was getting worse. In fact Hunter is even more distant and cold towards Ezra.
Ezra sighed as he opened his eyes and take in the deafening silence of the room. Hunter has returned to his old room and refused to be near the man any longer than he needed. He gently and slowly sit up on the bed and leaned against the headboard. Since their argument, Harry has made it his mission to ignore him as much as possible. The words of the boy echoed in his mind and Ezra felt like he deserved every single scathing word Hunter has said.
'Ezra was leaning against the headboard after waking up from his evening nap. Hunter have moved out of his room. The man now sleeps alone. Ever since their argument, Hunter had gotten more distant and colder. Hunter has made it his mission to ignore the man at every way possible.
The tension between them is so thick that Little Stacie and Alice could sense it. Neither would ask much as they wouldn't want to intervene their family issues. The tension is so thick that a sword could pierce through it. The coldness in Hunter's eyes could freeze a person's soul. Ezra is at a dead end. He didn't know how to fix this mess. The boy had made it clear that he doesn't want to talk or look at the older man. It's greasy dungeon bat Professor Severus Snape and Gryffindor Golden Boy Harry Potter all over again. It was times like this that made Snape hate the mistake he made. The ugly Dark Mark. The extreme favouritism he displayed towards Slytherin and Draco.
Yes, he admit that he wishes his old life back. With a sigh, Ezra held the wheelchair tightly and climbed onto the chair only for the wheelchair to wheel away. He fell on the ground with a 'thud'. He groaned and sneered at his own weakness. The sound must have alerted the young boy as a messy haired tyke popped at the door. He slowly entered and stood at the doorway.
At that moment, Ezra would have thought that Hunter would help him despite their argument. But, no. He looked up at the boy who smirked cruelly.
"Pathetic really. You can't get on your chair? Are you that weak? What happened to the All Glorious Professor Snape? Looking all weak and pathetic." said Hunter. The words slashed the man like no other. He knew why the boy did what he did. This was what he exactly did when Harry or Hunter was at his low. It hurt. Those words hurt like acid poured on him.
He wondered how Harry took his scathing words. The said boy silently, almost sulkingly brought the wheelchair back and helped the man back to the chair. Ezra rubbed his hand where he hit the ground. Hunter must have thought that the older man was trying to rub away the boy's touch.
"What? My touch disgust you now? I'm sorry I'm not Draco Malfoy. I'll wear gloves next time I touch you." murmured Harry. There was a tinge of hurt and sadness. Then those green eyes glimmered with anger. There was nothing there for days on end now except anger that it hurted Snape to even remember the way Harry- no, Hunter, his Hunter, his boy Hunter's eyes- used to be so full of life, so filled with boyhood dreams and hopes. Where was that boy he had worked so hard to rebuild?
Snape sighed, "No, Harry--"
The boy swatted Snape's hand away, as if burnt. "Don't call me that."
Four simple words, yet Snape's chest was cut open like a simple piece of paper. He looked up and tried to reach out to Harry, to bring back what part of Hunter was left, but Harry only backed away again. The boy never took off his eyes away from Snape, that it made Severus so uncomfortable.
"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." He could hear the emotions from Harry's words, the way they seemed to punch him in the gut as the boy in front of him declared his resentment and loathing and anger. It was so heartbreaking that Severus found himself crying. Harry had long since ran up to his room, slammed the door, and then silence.'
Snape exhaled as if it was his last breath. He didn't realise that he was shaking. That day was too much for him, and the following days after that episode was making his head ache.
The more the episodes occured, the lower he felt. He finally knew how Harry felt when he scorned the boy with his sharp word without a second thoughts. His cruelty. His visciousness. He hated himself day by day. His paralysis wasn't helping a single bit. He deserves it! Every single piece of it. He put the boy through hell for his naivety and mistakes.
Who is he now? The once Glorious Professor Snape cease to exist. What is now left is a Chemistry Professor and a failing father, Ezra Hartford. So much for living up to his name.
The boy has made himself known on how he felt about the man including the dark mark he once proudfully took that now he despise and regrets the most. He was the reason why Harry was an orphan. He was the one who revealed the prophecy to the dark lord in order to please the man. It costs him everything. He become a servant. A puppet that had no purpose.
Perhaps there was times where Snape would compare Harry with Draco. He noticed how hard Harry would try to impress the man alas, nothing worked. The man continued to find faults in the boy. Time after time, the boy stop trying to impress the man and did the potions just for the sake of getting a good grade. What did he expect? A perfectly first year brewed potion by a boy raised by muggles who had no knowledge of the wizarding world. Draco was raised in the wizarding world and was taught by Severus himself.
Perhaps the man expected too much from a young boy. Vastly misjudged the boy in character. Cruelly treated the boy for looking like Potter Sr. Severus sigh and rolled his wheelchair away from the kitchen. It was clear that the damage made is going to take hard work to repair and Severus isn't going to stop until he fixed the mess he made.
----()----()----()----()----()----
Hunter or Harry woke up with the sun glaring at him. He rubbed his eyes and sat up tiredly. It was different and quiet sleeping alone back in his bedroom. He was so used sleeping beside the man that waking up in his room seems so different, and so...hollow.
There were times when Harry would wake up with screams lodges up in his throat, dying to come out but finds no exit way that it makes his throat hurt. He still has nightmares. About Voldemort. His friends. Sirius. Everyone. This time he has deal with it alone without the man's comfort. Usually, the man would wake up and hold him whispering reassuring words in his ears despite his disability.
Despite the hurt and hatred in his heart, Harry can't help but miss Severus' comforting presence. He wants it back, but he was terrified. Snape had betrayed him by keeping Sirius' death from his knowledge, and Harry's trust in his father was somehow cracked at the edges, enough to let hurt and pain and anger slip through them, but it was still not destroyed. The broken pieces was still there, lying somewhere- but Harry...he was still so wary of everything. As a young boy who had too many tragedies in his short life, he found it hard to pick up the pieces, knowing where to start, but so scared to push through his line of pride, afraid to get wounded while being at it.
Yes, the grudge Harry is holding is petty and childish. He should have let the man explain instead of jumping into conclusions. But, it hurts to know that such big secret. Not any secret however it is the secret of his godfather's death. Sirius Black's death. It is something he can't forgive about or sweep under rug for. However, Harry can't help to feel satisfied that Severus Snape is getting a taste of his own medicine. The man wears grudge like a birthmark.
Getting up, Harry, vision bleary, struggled to find his way into the bathroom. He was feeling more out of sorts these days. He truly hopes that he isn't about to get another attack, not after the attack that occured just two or three months ago. And Lord take the wheel. He isn't about to go through that horror again. He washed his face and brushed his teeth. He almost jumped a feet high by the look of his face at the mirror. He looked pale and tired with dark circles underneath his eyes. Harry is like the walking dead. He got some 'beauty' sleep to catch up with. Christmas is fast approaching and honestly, Harry don't seem to have the mood or the vibe. Celebrating Christmas with Severus Snape doesn't seem the best or epic idea at the moment. He isn't about to forgive the old assbat that easily.
Fixing his bed like he always did, Harry decided he better be gentle with himself. He felt too sore for words that it even hurt to do simple things like clasping clothes in between his fingers or holding a glass of water. His throat felt dry always, his eyelids heavy and his lips were always chapped.
Not that he would tell dear Dad about that. Snape does not care- he'll leave it at that. It was always easier to continue to hate than to take the road to forgiveness.
Harry wondered though, for many, many times now: what was Snape doing? Does he even miss Harry? Does he feel numb to the bone like Harry does? Does it hurt to think how everything fell apart so fast? Does he cry himself to sleep, too? Does everything look bleak and dark and hopeless?
Because for Harry, it does.
He feels like he was walking on nothing but sharp stones and burning coal. He felt like a part of him was ripped away, torn by some malicious being, making him feel so incomplete. He was always in no mood to talk. Harry forgot what it felt like to be happy. It was scary; to feel like he always walking on air, living but already dead, and still dying. When was the last time he had laughed?
Not for the first time, Harry was tired of feeling.
Closing his eyes to compose his erratic heartbeat and to stop the scream that was in his throat, Harry let himself surrender to nothingness, wishing that Sirius would come and take him away- away to where he would at least feel like he belonged.
His eyes opened themselves. He was still in front of the mirror. Faintly, he could hear rustling in front his door.
It was Severus, of course.
Heaving in a lungful of air, Harry let Snape mumble into the wood. He could rot there, for all Harry cares.
The thing is, Harry thought spitefully, it was bad enough to have fallen for Snape's plan- but it was pure idiocy to have let himself care.
Because, Harry thought, the more you care, the more you get hurt.
This time, he had learned his lesson.
Harry vowed to himself.
It would be the last time Harry Potter would care for someone.
-----
Harry hasn't gone out of his room. Severus was getting frightened. What was happening in there?! Not even a sound was made. Is the boy okay?! Did something happened to him?!
But there were still signs of movement. As an intel for the Light, Severus knew how to pick up sounds and decipher them from one another.
He sighed deeply, exhaling and inhaling, trying to calm himself.
Oh, who was fooling? Himself? Oh, this is such a mess! And once again, he was the cause of the mess.
So much for being brilliant, he snorted at his own pathetic thoughts.
Of course, it is his fucking fault. It is always his fault, because he is nothing but a failure.
He had failed his mother, he failed Lily, he failed Albus, and now, he has failed another person in his life who meant the world to him: Harry.
Harry, his wonderful son, the boy whom he had vowed to protect with his life, if need be. Harry, whose green eyes shattered the cold wall in his soul and wormed his way through his heart, the boy who accepted him with all his flaws without question or pause or so much of a judgment. Why, why must he always leave chaos in his wake?
Pulling his hair, as if it could lessen everything, Severus felt warm, clear tears forming in his eyes, voices laughing at him at the way he seem to slowly go mad.
He let them go.
They flowed so freely, like waters gushing out of a drying spring in its last sprout before Winter comes to cover the ground with cold, merciless snow. Knowing that they were there made Severus feel so vulnerable that it awed him and startled him.
He had cried when Harry had his attack, but this was different. Back then, he cried for his son, but now, he found himself crying for his lost soul. For the first time since Lily's death by Riddle's undoing, he felt so lost.
Once again, he was embarking on a journey, facing a horizon that knew no sunrise or sunset. Around him, he could see nothingness but perilous waters that were trying to sink the small boat where he was in.
For once, Severus Snape doesn't have any idea what to do.
He was so unsure.
He doesn't know how to glue back the broken parts of Harry's lacerations of the heart.
He deserved to be ignored.
He deserved to be drowned in that bottomless sea.
How could he emerge from all this?
What if Harry never gets past his rage? What could he do, then? What would he do?
Severus would never forgive himself if Harry would not.
Sitting in the wheelchair, unable to do anything else, Severus lifted up a hand and placed it on the door, closing his eyes tightly, imagining Harry's hand against his own, his heart clenching like so- he did what he could only do at the moment, and that was to mumble the words he wished Harry could hear:
"I'm sorry, son. I love you, my fragile jade. I'm sorry for letting you down. I love you so much, Harry, so much that it hurts. I wish...I wish, I deserve you, just as much as you deserve the Universe."
Severus let out a sob, and then whispered, "I just wish I could give you even just a star."
Slowly, Severus backed down, so lost in his tears and misery and fears and pain that he didn't hear Harry's whimper from the other side of the door, his hands pressed on the wood of the door of his room, eyes closed, kneeling on the cold floor, his body wracked with sobs, hearing everything, but not yet ready to risk and forgive his Father just yet.
Somehow, despite the anger for what Snape has done, Harry cried silently, tears streaming down like waterfalls, voice hoarse as he answered although it was not perceived by the broken man on the other side of the door, "You are my star, Dad."