"Young Mr Snape, isn't it?" Madam Bright nodded at him, indicating with a nod that she couldn't shake his hand. Seeing the frog guts she was elbow deep in Snape was relieved she didn't try. "Albus told me he'd secured my replacement at last. Can't say I was displeased to hear it was an old pupil of mine."

"It seems fitting somehow," Snape agreed, running one hand over the scarred old wood of the work table. Centuries of potions ingredients stained its surface, including the gore dripping from Madam Bright's hands as she weighed a handful of the guts on a small scale and tipped it into a jar.

Madam Bright didn't live up to her name, brown would have been more accurate. She seemed carved out of warm wood, from the rich amber of her eyes to the suspiciously umber hair that was not marred by a single strand of grey despite her advanced years. She wore a dragon hide apron over a stained old pair of overalls. A pair of driving goggles was pushed up and rested on her forehead, leaving faint lines in her milky skin.

Potion makers, Snape mused, usually showed the effects of long hours spent in the dungeons brewing their magical mixes. Those dedicated to the craft, like Madam Bright and himself, could be picked from a crowd.

"I was amazed to hear you invented the famous werewolf sleeping draught," she said, glancing at him from the corner of her eye as she worked. "Fine piece of brewing."

Snape agreed with a nod, not liking false modesty. It had been a fine piece of brewing.

"I'm guessing you stumbled on it by accident, eh?" she said with an evil chuckle. "I took a close look at the methods once you'd licensed it."

Snape shrugged. It was true. "Serendipity."

"Blind bloody luck more like." Madam Bright laughed again. "A brewer's best friend, eh?"

"Anyone could have had the accident," Snape agreed, picking a piece of lint from his shirt sleeve and flicking it away. "Discovering what I was left with after the accident, that's where the talent comes in."

Madam Bright snorted wryly. "Albus tells me you're raising your boy here," she went on, weighing and measuring the guts with absent precision.

"It won't interfere with my duties," Snape assured her.

"Good to hear." Madam Bright barked another brusque laugh. "Last thing I need is another ankle biter running around my dungeons. I see quite enough of the little bastards as it is."

Snape felt his heart warming to her.

"Anyway, Albus also assured me he'd have a tutor for the boy inside a fortnight."

"Did he?" Snape murmured.

"When he has, you come back and see me. You can sit in on some of the classes, get a feel for how things are done around here."

"I appreciate your time, Madam Bright."

"Dolly," the teacher corrected with a toothy smile. She looked rather like a brown crocodile when she showed her teeth, Snape mused.

"Severus," he said back, more because he felt he had to than because he wanted to. 'Dolly' looked equally as revolted by the polite conversation and seemed quite relieved when he bid her farewell and slipped out of the dungeon to pick Harry up from the headmasters office.

"Fairy Floss," he murmured and the statue hopped aside and revealed the staircase.

"And how was dear Dolly?" Dumbledore asked, looking up from his crayoning. Harry glanced up and smiled at him, then bent back over his absorbed scribbling.

"Traditionally I considered myself lucky if I emerged from a class of Madam Bright's without being rapped over the knuckles with her wand," Snape said smoothly, sitting down opposite the big desk and crossing his legs.

"So it went well," Dumbledore guessed. "Good, good. My life wouldn't have been worth living if she didn't like you."

"I imagine mine would have been considerably more difficult too."

"Perfessor," Harry said politely. "May I have the pink crayon please?"

Dumbledore handed it over and they watched for a moment as Harry bent back over his large square of paper, tongue tip poking from the corner of his mouth as he scribbled industriously.

"I understand Harry's getting a tutor?" Snape said blandly.

"Seemed like the best solution." Dumbledore smiled. "I have a nice young chap in mind for the job, Severus."

"Am I to have any say in this at all?" He attempted to keep the resentment from his voice.

Dumbledore's face softened and he laid his crayon down. "Forgive me for not mentioning this before, Severus," he said quietly. "There have been quite a few things to sort out. I shouldn't have mentioned it to anyone before you."

"It's not that I object to Harry having a tutor," Snape said, somewhat mollified. "I'm just not sure I can afford it."

"Ah, here I must put my foot down, Severus," the headmaster said firmly. "The tutor will be employed directly by me."

Snape was shaking his head. "Educating Harry is my responsibility," he began.

"I agree. But since any tutor who is employed will be living in Hogwarts, which is in its entirety my responsibility..." Dumbledore paused to let him take that in. "It can't be just anybody Severus. It must be someone we trust implicitly, not only with access to the grounds but with Harry as well. And I don't believe you have the kind of contacts I do in locating and hiring someone qualified."

Snape had to admit to himself that he wouldn't have a clue where to begin finding such a person.

"Besides, I have some other duties in mind for this young fellow, so it's only fair I employ him. All right?"

Snape nodded, seeing the sense of this. "I will get to meet him though?"

"Of course, of course!" Dumbledore said jovially. "And while we're on the subject of finances and such... I should have mentioned James and Lily's vault-"

"No," Snape said.

"Harry is their legal heir after all-"

"No," Snape said again.

"Severus, I understand your feelings in this matter, but raising and educating a child can be a financial-"

"No," Snape said again, this time meeting the headmaster's eyes firmly. "I can afford to take care of my son. Once Harry is of age he may do what he wishes with the contents of his parents vault. Understood?"

Dumbledore nodded, picking his crayon up again. "Understood."

Harry laid down his crayon with a happy sigh. "Finished," he said with satisfaction. He scrambled off the chair he was kneeling on and held the paper in front of his father. "See, daddy?"

Severus looked, understanding immediately that Harry had inherited his artistic ability, which was, unfortunately, nonexistent. "I see," he said, noncommittally.

"This is me," he said, indicating a small figure with spikes of black hair crayoned in all over his very round head.

"Obviously," his father agreed.

"And this is you." A much taller figure, his black crayoned hair longer and hanging down like sheets on the sides of his thinner face.

"Why do I have six fingers?" he felt obliged to ask, feeling that accuracy in a drawing was as important as artistic sense.

"That's your wand." Harry frowned. "I might make it longer."

"That might be helpful." Snape studied the picture. Hogwarts was pictured in the background, towers and pennants and all. Dumbledore was also recognisable, although he was quite small and could only be told apart from the doll Merlin by his distressing lack of moons and stars. "Who is this?" he asked, indicating the figure on Harry's other side, holding his hand.

Harry peered over the page. "That's Mrs Taylor," he explained. "She's my Year One teacher. She was nice to me."

"Everyone looks very happy," Snape said, studying the wide crayoned grins the figures wore. With a long finger he pointed out the exception. "Except me."

"You're happy too," Harry said seriously. "But you don't smile with your mouth like everyone else."

Avoiding Dumbledore's gaze Snape kept his eyes on the brightly coloured picture. "How do you know I'm happy then?"

Harry pointed to a pink blob on the drawn figure Snape hadn't noticed before. "Your smile's in your heart, daddy."

"What a perceptive son you have, Severus," Dumbledore said softly.

888

Snape gave in to Harry's request that his picture be fixed to the wall in the small kitchen.

"Cos Aunt Petunia always put Dudley's pictures on the fridge," he said, surveying his masterpiece with satisfaction.

Understanding the sentiment if not the details Snape stood back and watched his son's face. Did Harry truly see the heart in him? Or was the little child merely making excuses for his emotionally cold father?

"I wish Mrs Taylor could see it," Harry said. "She always said I was a good drawer."

"And a good reader too," Snape recalled, boiling water with a wave of his wand and pouring it into a pot with a few spoonfuls of tea.

"Uh huh," Harry agreed. "She was the bestest teacher ever."

Glad to hear at least one Muggle had shown the boy some kindness Snape added milk to his cup and poured a glass for Harry.

"When I first went to school all the other kids thought I was dumb," Harry revealed, following his father back into the sitting room and accepting the glass. "But Mrs Taylor knew it was cos I needed glasses. She got the school nurse to write a note and Uncle Vernon had to buy me some." Harry shivered at some unpleasant memory. "He sure was mad."

"It seems we owe your old teacher a debt of gratitude," Snape said as lightly as he could manage. It was getting harder for him to hear of all the Muggles casual little cruelties to his son. Had he once imagined Harry would survive a childhood of such neglect? Because his father had?

Snape shook his head at his own foolishness. No wonder Dumbledore had seemed so doubtful about his stubborn pronouncement. Suffering did make you strong, but it was a brittle kind of strength that rendered you easy to break with the right kind of pressure. It left you vulnerable prey to all sorts of predators.

Harry finished his milk and licked his lips. "What's a toota?"

Snape snorted. "A tutor," he corrected.

"That's what I said. You said I was getting a toota. What is it?"

"Like a teacher," Snape said. "Except you would be the only student in the class."

Harry thought about it for a while. "But who will my friends be?"

"I thought you didn't have any friends?"

"Only cos Dudley beat up anyone who talked to me," Harry said indignantly. "I thought I'd have friends at my new school..." he trailed off. "It doesn't matter," he said quickly. "I don't care. I don't want to go back to my old school! I don't want to go back to Privet Drive!"

"Harry," Snape interrupted over the boy's babble. He reached over and grasped the boy's hands firmly, bringing him to his feet before him. Harry avoided his gaze but Snape took his pointed chin between thumb and forefinger and deliberately caught his eyes. "Listen to me, Harry," he said insistently. "You're not going back to your aunt and uncle, do you hear me? Not now, not ever. No matter what."

"What if I'm bad?" Harry said faintly.

Snape shook his chin gently. "Not even if you were the baddest boy in the whole world," he said intensely, willing the child to believe him. Could a five year old understand any of this?

"Are you sure?" Harry whispered. Pleaded.

"I'm sure. Because you're my boy, Harry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you before, but I'm here now, all right? And I'll never leave you behind again."

Harry searched his face and something there must have been more reassuring than his father's weak words because his tense little shoulders relaxed and he nodded, the smallest nod. "kay," he said quietly.

888

Dinner was quiet and Harry was nodding off into his jam pudding, so Snape tucked him into bed without his evening bath. He wanted to mention the closet and the small hoard of food but Harry's eyelids were drooping and he finally decided they had spilt enough emotions that night.

Obviously Harry still had some fears that words alone could not allay. When Snape checked on him before retiring to his own bed he once more found the child curled up with his doll and his night light at the bottom of the wardrobe.

888

"Fit as a fiddle!" Madam Pomfrey announced. "We might just prescribe you a tonic though, Harry," she said brightly. "Put some muscles on those arms." She rummaged in her store cupboard but Snape forestalled her.

"There's no need to use any of your tonics, Madam Pomfrey," he said politely. "I am quite capable of brewing anything you suggest for Harry."

"I have some right here," the mediwitch protested.

"Harry will only take potions I brew for him," he said insistently and Poppy raised a brow.

"Of course," she agreed, smiling comfortably. She rummaged in another cupboard and pulled out a jar. Harry's eyes lit up at the coloured sweets inside. "For being such a brave boy," she said, glancing at Snape. "If your father says it's all right?"

Snape inclined his head and Harry accepted a lolly on a stick, bright blue and shaped like a pixie.

Madam Pomfrey pulled out another lolly and nodded down the ward where a heavily wrapped student lay staring at the ceiling. "See that young fella there, Harry?"

Harry nodded, his mouth busy with the treat.

"His name's Charlie. He decided he'd try and get rid of his freckles and ended up getting rid of half his skin too."

Harry wrinkled his nose, eyes wide. "Gross."

"Quite," Madam agreed. "It's growing back but the poor chap's a bit bored while his friends are in class. Want to go and keep him company for a bit? He might appreciate this Sugar Pixie too."

As usual Harry looked to him for confirmation and Snape nodded, glad for a moment alone with the mediwitch.

"Dumbledore told me a bit of the boy's history," she said as soon as Harry was out of earshot. She shook her head in dismay. "Imagine Harry Potter being raised by such unfeeling Muggles! Nothing makes my blood boil like cruelty to a child."

"But he's fine?" Snape confirmed. "Physically?"

"He's small for his age," Madam said, biting her lip a little. "Definitely undersized. By the look of his wrist bones he's been underfed, which is a bit of a worry. Their little brains are growing so rapidly at this age!"

Snape swallowed hard, glancing down the ward at Harry, now chatting animatedly with the older boy who had the Sugar Pixie firmly in his mouth.

"Now, don't fret yourself," Madam advised, which was easy for her to say after scaring him to death. "He seems quite bright, for all the neglect he's suffered. And the tonic I've prescribed will help all the good food and fresh air he's getting now do its job." She fixed him a stern glare. "And mind! I said fresh air, don't keep him down in those dungeons of yours day and night. Don't think I've forgotten how peaky you were as a youngster!"

Not for the first time Snape reflected that teaching at a school he had left barely ten years before was not going to be a doddle. He had vivid memories of Madam Pomfrey and her foul tasting tonics and her biting good sense. Of course he also remembered how cool her hands had seemed on his brow when he had suffered a fever in his first year. She had sat by his bedside all night, he remembered now, something his own family wouldn't have dreamed of doing.

The memory decided him. He had been toying with the idea of confiding his worry about Harry's fear induced habits with the older witch, and now he thought might be the time.

Madam made him a cup of tea while she listened and when he was done she sat and nodded her head, nibbling on a lemon biscuit and sipping her sweet tea.

"Poor little chap," she said, her eyes soft. "He'll need a lot of reassurance from you, Severus."

"I'm doing my best," Snape returned. "But surely there's something else I can do?"

"Sounds to me you're doing all that can be done. My only suggestion would be to have a quiet word with him about his stash. Explain that food kept that way will go bad without a spell to preserve it. Reassure him that he's not in trouble. Buy him a box of biscuits or some blocks of Honeydukes chocolate, something he can keep in his drawer. Make him feel better."

"Is that all?"

Poppy chuckled. "What were you expecting? A potion you can brew and pour down his throat? No, Severus. The oldest cure of all is the only one that will work on little Harry. Time."

Snape shook his head, wishing he could confess what he was feeling, how unsure he was that he was the right caregiver for the child, how he was afraid Harry somehow sensed that his father had never really wanted him, had planned even as he took him from the Muggles to abandon him all over again, here at Hogwarts. But he couldn't confide these deep dark thoughts, in the end his habit of privacy was too hard to break.

"I know that doesn't seem like much," Poppy said with an understanding nod. "But, look, Severus. Watch Harry for a moment."

Severus looked at Harry who was listening to the student talk, nodding his head. He watched his son turn and glance at down the ward at them before turning back to the young patient.

"He does that," Poppy said quietly. "Every minute or so. Doubt he even realises himself what he's doing."

"He's still so unsure," Snape said flatly.

"He's five years old," Poppy reminded him. "Reassuring words are fine and he will remember them. But it's proof he needs and only you and time are going to provide that. Once he settles down and comes to truly believe that you're not going anywhere then the other behaviours will settle down, I'm sure of it."

Snape picked up his cooling tea and sipped it, feeling better than he had since the night Harry had grown so distressed. Down the ward Harry was laughing and clapping his hands together, his high voice mingling with the chuckles of the young patient.

888

"Charlie said his mum and dad took him to a place where there were real live dragons, daddy!" Harry said excitedly as they walked out into the sunshine as per Madam Pomfrey's orders. Snow still covered the grounds, weighing down tree branches and blowing in gentle flurries up against the standing stones. "Have you ever seen a dragon?"

"Yes." Snape leaned over and pulled Harry's hood up, tucking it around his face and fastening his cloak more tightly around his chest. "Perhaps we'll go see some in the summer holidays."

Harry beamed. "How many sleeps away is that?"

"I've no idea,' Snape admitted. "But don't worry, the time will fly."

"Can we make snowmen?"

"Not today, you need some gloves and a scarf. Today we'll just walk down to the lake and look for the giant squid."

Harry gazed at him in disbelief. "A giant squid?" He sighed in pleasure. "This is much better than TV," he confided.

Vowing to find out exactly what this 'teevee' was that Harry kept mentioning, Snape contented himself with a nod.