Severus Snape watched from the doorway of his chambers, his usually guarded face betraying an unspoken tension. The boy—his son, a fact that still felt like a distant, surreal concept—was absorbed in the book he was reading, completely unaware of the scrutiny from the man who had never thought himself capable of fatherhood.

It wasn’t just the child’s appearance that made this whole situation impossible to reconcile. Severus had been many things in his life: a student of dark magic, a loyal follower of Voldemort, and an unlikely double agent. But a father? That was a role he hadn’t dared imagine, let alone accept. His childhood had been one of neglect and emotional abuse, and his time as a Death Eater had been devoid of love and tenderness. How could he, someone who had never learned the language of affection, raise a child?

The boy's presence in his life was both an unsettling reminder of his past choices and a challenge to his very nature. Severus had always kept people at arm’s length, even those he cared about most, always afraid of what might happen if he allowed himself to feel too much. He had always prided himself on his ability to control his emotions. But now, with this child in his life, emotions were starting to creep in, uninvited and uncomfortable.

He took a slow, deliberate step forward, the faint creak of the door startling the boy out of his book.

"How are you finding the book?" Severus asked, his voice colder than he intended.