[HP] Secret help

His horns twitched, and he began to regret the constant stream of troubles, maybe pajamas today, shoes tomorrow, curtains and rugs the day after, Snape wasn't used to having people involved in his life, after all he had After nearly 30 years, he was the only one at home.

Harry Potter is a kid who likes to push his feet. This is something Snape has long established. He grandiosely invaded Snape's territory and tried to swear his sovereignty in vain.

Snape felt a little panic, when the brat knocked on the potions room door and asked hesitatingly if he could lend him a set of pajamas, as if Harry had borrowed not just a set of pajamas, but A pass is a pass that allows him to come and go as he pleases in his house.

——Or, in his heart.

Snape reluctantly opened the door of his own cupboard and rummaged through it, while Harry, wearing his newly bought plush slippers, stood stiffly in the gap between the floor tiles between the master bedroom and the living room At the back, there seemed to be a magical barrier here, keeping him out of the bedroom.

Snape finally picked out a set of pajamas that he didn't often wear, pulled it out from the bottom of the cabinet, cast a dozen household spells on the crumpled stack of clothes, and cursed himself for being crazy Floating the pajamas into Harry's arms with a blank expression, he said, "Only this one. If the noble Harry Potter doesn't mind, you can try it. If it doesn't fit, I think it's for sure."

As he said that, Snape paused, and glanced at Harry from head to toe contemptuously: "But I heard that the Savior's Transfiguration lesson is good."

Harry's eyes moved from the thin pajamas in his arms to Snape's face. The boy's expression was gentle, but his eyes were bright, like the faint fire of moths. He just looked at Snape like this, It took three or four seconds before he spoke: "Thank you, Professor."

That feeling hit Snape again, as if the green seedling in his heart grew rapidly when Harry approached in the past, and blossomed into fragrant and pleasant flowers. The boy watered it with his eyes and used his body It was nourished by the smell of Snape's bath lotion.

"Potter," Snape called out suddenly.

Harry turned around quickly, leaning his head slightly with his palms on the door frame of the bedroom: "What's wrong?"

"It's all right," said Snape stiffly. "Good night."

With a sigh of relief, Harry put down his hand on the door frame, and rubbed his messy hair: "You too, professor, sweet dream."

Snape curled his lips and closed the door in front of Harry.

It all started tonight, to be precise, three hours after the two fell asleep.

Snape was awakened by a long hissing sound, his brain was in a state of confusion for two seconds, and he realized that it was Harry Potter, thanks to Snape's dangerous work, he was not a deep sleeper, after the war It was a little better, but there was still an aftertaste. It's just that Harry had spent too much time in the past few days. When he slept on the familiar bed again, he would inevitably feel a little groggy when he just woke up.

He wasn't quite sure if the scream he heard was the beginning of the nightmare, but there was indeed no aftermath. There was a soft rustling sound from the next door, like the soles of slippers rubbing against the floor—Potter got out of bed .

The slight noises moved from the next bedroom to outside Snape's room, stopped for a moment, loudly, and then slowly returned.

Snape began to wait for another round of nightmares from the boy, after all Harry Potter didn't just experience one scream before he moved to the next room to sleep.This made Snape extremely irritable. He changed countless prescriptions, and even used Muggle medicines for PTSD as a reference, but Harry's nightmare didn't seem to improve. Punctuality is never absent.

He waited and waited, finally succumbing to exhaustion, and fell asleep again. When he woke up again, it was the next morning. He woke up 15 minutes later than the previous biological clock, and allowed himself to lie on the long-lost bed for a while, Then Harry Potter heard the sound of turning the doorknob and going to the bathroom.

Different from the cautiousness last night, the movement this morning can be said to be earth-shattering. The brat scraped his slippers on the ground, the sound of water splashing, and the sound of the toothbrush hitting the wall of the cup sounded like beating a drum.

Snape couldn't lie down anymore, so he got up to wash up. He was used to taking a simple shower in the morning to start his day's work. Nepe went to the kitchen and found Harry Potter standing in front of the stove, and the plate next to him contained freshly fried, golden brown toast slices with slightly burnt edges.

The boy seemed to have just finished washing, and the curly hair was still steamy. There was no apron at Snape's house, so Harry was wearing the dark blue pajamas he borrowed last night, with an old coat on his back, holding a spatula and twisting. Turn your head and say, "What a coincidence, Professor, I'm frying eggs, do you want them well-done, single sided, or runny?"

"Up to you." Snape didn't want to worry about that.

Harry whistled: "Let's make soft-boiled eggs, I'm pretty good at frying soft-boiled eggs."

Snape went to grind a cup of coffee, and when he returned to the dining table and sat down, he found that Harry was already putting on a plate. He cut some bacon that the two of them bought yesterday, and mixed a small vegetable salad.

Harry put the old clothes on the back of the chair, arranged food for the two of them, and sat opposite Snape: "It's not too rich, is it? I got up late today."

Snape curled his lips: "In fact, it's the earliest time in 'history'."

Harry laughed twice, but didn't answer.

His complexion was not in a good mood. It was unclear whether it was the dark blue under the eyes or a small shadow cast by the brow bone. Harry was quietly eating his baked beans with his head down, and Snape couldn't see clearly.

So Snape also picked up the cutlery, and cut open a plump egg that looked yellow and clear. The yolk was almost solidified, but not completely solidified, with a slightly creamy taste and a little salty taste, maybe it was really like Harry himself said As he said, his level of fried soft-boiled eggs is not bad.

Snape didn't pay much attention to his own breakfast. He seldom ate it at home after going to Hogwarts at the age of 11. What kind of eggs can he eat in the morning, fried old, dripping egg yolk, or Just right, it all depends on the mood of the house elf, no one has ever asked him what he wants, he can choose.

"What are you doing today?" Harry asked casually.

Snape looked up at him. "So soon to tell me everything, Potter?"

"No." Harry replied quickly, and then realized that it seemed inappropriate to say so, so he added, "I mean, I have nothing to hide from you."

"Really?" Snape asked lightly, not seeming to take Harry's answer to heart. "Then there's nothing to do."

As a result there is really nothing to do.

Snape's vacation life is always very monotonous, reading books, writing reports, researching potions, nothing less than these, Harry seems to be even more idle, he is completely out of his busy work, and he doesn't know what Auror Division will do for him. How long have they been on leave? Ron and Hermione will occasionally visit and leave in a hurry after work. Everyone seems to have no intentions, except Harry who lives in Spider's End.

Once again, when the two good friends returned home from the fireplace, Ron asked Hermione beside him suspiciously: "Honey, do you really think Harry is still sick, what about PSO?"

"It's PTSD." Hermione rolled her husband's eyes. "Actually, I think so. Haven't you noticed that Harry is always tired lately?"

"Really?" Ron muttered, "I think he's looking better than he's been in a while."

Hermione was once again amazed by the boy's observation ability: "He always rubs his eyes, and even lost weight again, and the dark circles under his eyes are as heavy as ghosts."

Ron said angrily, "I knew Snape wasn't doing his best to help him!"

"Ronald!"

Ron shrank his neck.

Hermione rubbed her forehead: "In short, step by step, I believe Professor Snape will have a way."

She still insisted that Harry didn't want to open up to them both, and after the first few hangouts with them, he didn't want to go out with them anymore, just saying it was too cold outside to leave fireplace.He was in a bad state of mind, but he still managed to deal with his friends, and Hermione had to be careful not to expose him.

"If you're worried, you can take Potter back," Snape said nonchalantly, "because you look like you're starting to doubt whether I can help him."

"No, Professor," said Hermione quickly, "I'm just... just disturbed."

Snape said, "Understandable, but useless."

Hermione asked worriedly: "Is it still under your control?"

"Always."

"I surrender."

Harry threw himself into Snape's arms.

He wrapped his arms tightly around Snape's ribs, his bare/exposed skin was cold, the tip of his nose was pressed against the collarbone of the man's pajamas, and the breath he exhaled was cold.

"I surrender, Snape, haven't you been waiting for this day?" Harry wheezed like a drowning dog.

Snape felt the dampness on the nape of his neck, it was the cold sweat on Harry's brow.The living room was dark, the moonlight was fading, and only a little light came in from the window. There was no way for Snape to see the quartz clock a few steps away, but he guessed it was still the same as the previous few days, and it was a few days after the two fell asleep. Hours later, Harry Potter finally knocked on Snape's door after the nightmare.

The elegant hunter didn't say anything, just led the booty into the bedroom, "Squeak