Chapter Text
The juxtaposition of it nearly broke Remus' brain.
Blinking owlishly up at them was a soot-covered face that was decidedly not Severus Snape's.
And yet it was...
There was no mistaking his notable features, softened as they were. The strong nose, high cheekbones, and coal-black eyes of the boy before them left no doubt that this was, in fact, a child-version of the Hogwarts Potions Master. Everything from his lank black hair and pallid complexion was identical to his decades-older self.
Despite his utter disbelief, as Remus stared, he noticed more and more things that identified the boy as the ex-Death Eater and Order member he worked beside: the crossing of the boy's arms over his chest, the way he stood, the curve of his thin lips, the severity of his eyebrows...
Dumbledore had said, but Circe, Remus hadn't really believed--
"You're kidding," Sirius said, breaking the stunned silence and Remus' incredulous train of thought.
They were all standing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place; him, Sirius, Tonks, Molly, Arthur, and Moody... they'd been in the middle of a meeting when Dumbledore's silvery phoenix had appeared out of thin air, to inform them that they should expect a visitor. Remus barely had time to register what the Headmaster's patronus said about Snape having some kind of magical 'accident' that had left him temporarily 'younger' - before the Floo had roared to life and, out of the emerald-green flames, had appeared a thin, scruffy, sullen-looking child that was, unmistakeably:
Severus. Snape.
The boy in question was now looking up at Sirius, his thin arms banded firmly across his tiny chest. In his adult form, the gesture was imperious - on this juvenile facsimile, it made Severus look downright scared.
Remus realised with a pang that Snape was dressed in worn, overlarge clothes that looked much the worse for wear.
He really didn't know much about Severus' past, did he? Remus thought. He honestly had never stopped to wonder...
Sirius took a step forward, eyeing Snape eagerly - as though he were the personification of Christmas.
Severus took a step back. His black eyes were a little wider now, darting over the faces of the adults in the room.
It dawned on Remus very suddenly.
"Sirius," Remus warned, holding up a hand to stop his friend in his overexcited tracks. "He might not know who we are,"
Sirius only scoffed, turning back to the unbelievably small form of young Severus Snape.
"'Course he does, don't you, Sniv?" Sirius prompted, raising an eyebrow with a level of suspicion and contempt Remus thought they ought not direct at a boy so young.
Severus surveyed Sirius warily with that famous look of intelligent calculation that was such a mark of his older self - but there was something off, now, Remus realised. An undercurrent of fear and vulnerability that Remus had never seen before.
The boy raised his chin a little, as if trying to defy his nervousness as he uttered quietly but steadily:
"I dunno who yeh are, sir,"
There was stunned silence for a moment.
Snape's eyes searched the shocked faces as he looked confusedly for an explanation.
"Fuck me, I forgot he was Scouse," Sirius said after a moment. But then he smirked. "A few weeks sucking off Lucius soon took that right out of him,"
"Sirius!" Snapped Molly Weasley, a scandalised look on her face as she eyed the mini-Snape beside the fireplace.
But Severus' capacity for snark seemed to be another point of similarity between his adult and child self.
"Says the poofter in dress," the tiny boy levelled back.
Moody snorted somewhere to Remus' left.
Sirius, however, despite his opponent's size - or lack, thereof - started forwards with a look of growing fury, opening his mouth to retort--
In a split-second, Severus had moved to the other side of the room, back pressed into the junction where two walls met, a look of sheer terror in his wide, black eyes.
Oh, shit.