Snape climbed astride the hovering broomstick and studied Harry's excited face. Actually, now that he considered it, excited was too mild a word to describe his son's condition. Harry was almost vibrating with anticipation.

He reached out an arm and snagged the child, lifting him easily to his lap and settling him there.

"Warm enough?"

"Too warm." Harry wriggled.

"You'll appreciate it once we're up there. Now hold still." He gestured with his wand and a collection of leather straps and buckles whipped smoothly into place and bound the child firmly to him.

"Daddy!" Harry exclaimed, but his protest died as the broomstick lifted another few feet above the ground. "Oh, how is it doing that?" Craning his neck Harry peered below them. "Magic doesn't even make a sound!"

"I told you to hold still," Snape reminded him. "Here we go."

And then the broomstick was rising smoothly and within a moment they were above the treetops. Harry's hands clutched at his forearms, and Snape could tell that the boy had never been so excited.

He was actually speechless.

888

It didn't last long.

Harry craned his neck all around, just as interested in the clouds and the birds winging past as he was with the ground beneath them. Far below a river glimmered in the morning light and cars crawled slowly along a winding highway. "Won't the muggles see us?"

"I've used a charm to make sure they don't, Harry. Do sit still."

"Why do I have to have straps on?" Harry complained. "I'm not a baby." He jumped and pointed. "Ooh, look! An airplane!"

Snape used one hand to tug the boy closer while he steadied the broom with the other. "Harry Potter! If you don't hold still I will turn this broomstick right around!"

"But you promised to take me to see the dragons!" Harry turned a dismayed face to him.

"And you promised to behave," his father reminded him sternly.

Harry subsided. "All right." He sat slumped for a few minutes as they climbed a little higher to avoid some clouds. A few drops of rain pattered onto them and the boy shivered and cuddled back against his father's warmth.

Snape tugged his cloak around them both and patted the boy consolingly. "We'll stop for lunch, Harry, and warm you up in the sun."

"Will it be warm in Ru-mane-ee-a, daddy?" Harry asked tentatively, sounding out the word as he'd been taught.

"Not where we're going, Harry. The dragons are kept high in the mountains, away from muggles."

Harry shivered again, this time from excitement as much as cold. "I can't wait to see them," he breathed. "Oh, daddy! Did we bring the camera?"

Snape patted his top pocket. "It's in our trunk, along with everything else we'll need."

Harry began to chatter about the pictures he'd take, so that he could show Charlie and Bill and Neville and Ronnie the moving dragons. Snape listened tolerantly, glad the boy had settled down a little. Broomstick was hardly his preferred mode of travel, especially over such a long distance and with a small child.

The decision to make the journey in this manner was one he'd come to after much thought, and eventually advice from Dumbledore. Usually a family holiday with children too young to apparate would be taken by floo, in easy stages. But since their greatest concern had to be for Harry's safety they had eventually decided against such means. They would come into contact with far too many people on such a journey, especially at this time of year when holiday makers were on the move.

By lunchtime Snape was scanning the thick forest below when he spotted a thin blue ribbon of a stream glinting in the noon day sunlight. Feet skimming the tops of the trees he followed the winding stream until he spotted a small grassy clearing. A pair of foraging deer jerked their heads upwards in surprise and broke for cover as the broomstick gently made its descent.

"Is that a river?" Harry asked curiously as the straps unfurled and his father set him on his feet. Snape climbed off and straightened his stiff spine, feeling aches in unfamiliar places.

"Just a stream, Harry. Stretch your legs for a few minutes but don't go near the edge."

Bending his neck to the ominous sounds of cricking and creaking, Snape finally managed to work a few kinks out. He'd forgotten what traveling such long distances by broomstick could be like.

His left pocket held their huge trunk, conveniently shrunk down to travel size, and his right held a picnic hamper packed by the house elves and containing a sumptuous feast. Shaking out the thick blanket Snape called Harry over and they sat in the sun and enjoyed the crunchy chicken legs and soft fluffy rolls.

Harry had already stripped off his robe and was sitting cross legged in his old jeans and shirt. "The sun is making my toes tingle," he said, stretching his legs and yawning.

"We have no time for napping today, Harry," Snape warned and Harry opened his eyes wide.

"I'm not sleepy!" he defended. "Only babies have naps. I told you that, daddy," he finished reproachfully.

"So you have," Snape murmured. "How forgetful I am."

Harry forgave him with a smile and took another huge bite of chicken.

"Do you remember what I said about the hotel, Harry? When we meet people?"

Harry nodded, swallowing quickly. "No chattering," he repeated, a little thickly. His father handed him a flask of lemonade and he sipped it thankfully. "No chattering to strangers," he finished.

"And your hat?"

"Keep my hat on," Harry said. "Why do I have to keep my hat on? Is it so people won't see my scar?"

"Just so."

"Oh." Harry dabbed his mouth with a snowy white napkin and helped himself to a custard tart. "Why does everyone stare at it, daddy?"

"Because they are rude gawpers with no manners," Snape informed him loftily. "And that is all you need worry about, Harry. Do you want this last piece of cake?"

Harry shook his head and looked longingly at the blue stream winding past them. "Can we go for a swim?"

"Not if we want to make the inn by nightfall, Harry."

The boy sighed and gazed longingly at the water.

Snape glanced up at the sun and relented. "You may paddle if you like."

Harry scrambled up and began to pull at the bottoms of his trousers and Snape beckoned him over.

"Come here, let me do it."

Harry stood still while his father rolled the baggy old jeans up to his knee and fastened them neatly with a spell. Then he raced to the bank of the gently flowing stream and dipped one toe in.

"Ooh, it's nice," he shivered. "Are you going to paddle too, daddy?"

Snape settled back on the blanket. "No, I don't think so. And you only have five minutes, Harry, so you shouldn't waste time trying to talk me into it."

Harry hastily took a step into the water and kicked the rippling waves pleasurably. "Look! Little fish!"

"Careful, Harry!" Snape exclaimed.

888

Harry was still huffy as they left the coast and crossed the channel. "It was an accident. I was hardly even wet. And I didn't even get my whole five minutes," he sulked.

Snape ignored the whining with practised ease and pointed down below them. "There's a fishing boat," he said casually, and Harry's attention was caught.

After a few hours over water Harry began to doze, leaning back against his father and gently snoring. The sun was beginning to set as he finally wriggled and stirred awake.

"Aren't we there yet?"

"Nearly. See those lights beginning to twinkle?"

Harry yawned and knuckled his eyes, peering forward. "Is that a town?"

"It's Calais."

"Is it France, daddy?"

"Yes. There's a small inn there that's run by a wizard couple. We'll reach it before dinner."

"I'm tired."

"A little longer, Harry."

As they crossed into the town Snape pulled out a small gift from Dumbledore and held it in the palm of his hand. It was a glass ball, much like Harry and Neville's night light, and it glowed softly as he held it carefully in front of him. Inside, like a tiny fish, a red arrow swam, wriggling and squirming. Then it suddenly straightened, pointing to the right. Snape swung in that direction, slowly losing altitude until the rooftops were almost skimming his toes.

"A little more," Harry guided. "Forward now, daddy!"

The red arrow suddenly became a clenched hand, it's upwards thrusting thumb enthusiastically indicating approval.

"We're here!" Harry cheered and Snape sighed his relief and pocketed the Find-All. He should have known one of Dumbledore's gadgets would appeal to a five year old.

888

The inn keeper bustled up as soon as they arrived and gestured them to a side door that subtly appeared as they approached. The muggles bustling around the bright foyer seemed to notice nothing.

"Come this way, dearies," she said in a motherly tone. "You look like you've had a long journey."

She straightened her lilac shawl around her shoulders as they followed her down an oak paneled hall, twitching her greying bun back into place as they emerged into a second foyer, this one complete with a house elf polishing a huge horse brass and a pointy hatted wizard standing pointedly ringing a bell.

"Sorry, Mr Crabtree," the witch said amiably, stepping around the desk and plucking the bell out of the air. "Did you want something?"

"No, I was just ringing that ruddy bell for my health," the wizard said grumpily. "Is supper ready yet? Only my wife said you told her six sharp."

The inn keeper smiled and gestured to a large wooden clock behind her. It's hand was clearly still a minute away from the giant six with the picture of a gently steaming dinner plate emblazoned beneath it.

The wizard rolled his eyes and stomped away and the inn keeper turned her attention on them.

"Now, gents, Let's get you sorted out." She ran her finger down the yellowing pages of the book in front of her. "Mr Snape, is it?"

Snape dealt with their check-in, accepting a huge tarnished key and signing his name where indicated. As the inn keeper left to check that their room was ready he laid a hand on Harry's head, pleased the boy was remaining quiet, as instructed.

Harry pressed closer and with a glance down Snape could see why. He was clutching his father but staring at a man standing by the counter with a newspaper in his hand. The man wore a mustard coloured suit with a wide black lapel, and an absurd little pork pie hat. He was staring fixedly at the child.

Catching Snape's eye on him he swept his hat off and bowed deeply.

"Mr Snape, is it?"

Unable to imagine any circumstances in which he would feel the need to converse with this fellow Snape pointedly ignored him.

"Only I 'eard the inn keeper say so," he said, flashing a cheeky grin and a prominent gold tooth. He took a step closer and studied them avidly.

Keeping his hand firmly on Harry's head Snape nonchalantly ensured that the woolen beanie still covered the child's forehead. Then he bared his teeth in a grimace. "Do I know you... sir?"

The fellow grinned more widely. His eyes were a curious yellow.

"Foote," he said, holding out a hand. "Claude Foote, at your service. I'm a reporter for the Daily Prophet."

Studying the hand as if it emitted a particularly nasty smell, Snape deliberately took a step backwards, towards the stairs. "Both you and your employer have my sympathies," Snape said coldly. "Now if you'll excuse us, Mr Leg."

"Foote, sir," the fellow corrected eagerly. "D'you mind me askin' sir, where you're travelin' from? I know I've 'eard your name, and real recent like. Just can't recall where."

"Now now, Claude," the inn keeper chided as she bustled back over. "I won't have you bothering my guests." She turned to Snape and nodded. "Sorry about that, Mr Snape. Your room's all ready, top of the stairs and turn right."

Keeping Harry by his side Snape turned, not even pausing as the reporter called after him.

"I will remember, Mr Snape," he warned cheerfully. "I've a great memory for names, me."

888

Harry was still quiet as they entered their small set of rooms. Snape enlarged the trunk in the bedroom while Harry peeked into the tiny bathroom complete with claw footed tub.

Reflecting how glad he was they only had another days journey to the Dragon Preserve Snape collapsed back into a comfortable looking armchair. He summoned a cushion from the other chair and tucked it behind his aching spine.

"Supper should be here shortly, Harry," he told the boy as Harry came and leaned against the arm of the chair.

"Daddy?" Harry said tentatively. "Did I do something wrong?"

Snape's brow rose. "I don't know, Harry. Did you?"

Harry reached up and tugged the cap off his head and scrunched it up in his fist. "My scar?" he said uneasily. "You didn't want that man to see it."

"You needn't concern yourself with such people, Harry," Snape dismissed. There was a knock on the door and he stood back up, pleased to be able to drop the subject. "Our dinner's here. Go sit at the table."

888

Harry's uneasiness faded under the onslaught of chicken pie with a mound of mashed potato and he tucked in hungrily. As Snape ate his own modest portion he found his eyes drawn again to the scar on Harry's head. How long could he avoid the hard questions to come?

The nearly six year old was less certain about the dessert that followed dinner.

"Is it pudding?" he said sceptically.

"It's blancmange, Harry," Snape said, ladling out a generous portion. "Don't eat it if you don't want to."

"You never say that about carrots," Harry muttered, spooning up a small amount and tasting it tentatively. "It's okay," he pronounced. "But I like cake better."

"I'm sure there'll be cake in Rumania," Snape said deliberately to get the child's mind back on the treat ahead.

"And dragons too!" Harry exclaimed blissfully. "I can't wait!"

888

Snape postponed his own long soak while Harry had a quick bath. Helping him out of the deep claw foot tub Snape dried him briskly with the inn's thin towel and tugged a nightshirt over his head. Then he picked up the small round glasses and perched them back on Harry's nose.

"My bruise is all healed," Harry said, shaking back his sleeve and surveying his elbow with the kind of boneless grace only a very small child is capable of. "The slav we made fixed it all up."

"Salve," Snape corrected.

"Yeah." Harry smiled smugly. "And I made most of it, didn't I? Even if it was icky green."

"Remember why it was green?"

"Um, the ragwort? It was all green when we smushed it up."

"Excellent. Next time be more careful and you won't need to cure yourself."

"But I was winning!" Harry defended.

Snape shook his head as he led Harry back into the sitting room to brush his hair. He could clearly remember his astonishment at how seriously the boys had taken their tournament. "I fail to see what's so impressive about who can walk backwards the longest, Harry."

Now it was Harry shaking his head, clearly despairing of his father understanding any of the finer details of a nearly six year old's life. "Mostly it's because I'm best," he admitted. "Neville is pants at it."

"Harry!" Snape said firmly. "How many times have I told you not to repeat those vulgar expressions you learn from the Weasleys?"

"It's not vulgar," Harry insisted. "It's funny. Charlie says everything is pants. Percy is pants at riding a broom, Ronnie is pants at holding his breath under water. Bill is pants at potions."

Since Bill actually was very very pants at potions, Snape couldn't argue these points. He could however insist on the correct use of language when it came to Harry. After all, he'd only just manage to break the boy of the bad habits he'd picked up during his unfortunate muggle upbringing.

"I have told you my wishes, Harry. I do not expect to have to argue with you about it." Because if there was one thing Snape had learned from fatherhood that he would gladly pass onto anyone else it was never ever argue with a five year old. You never won and usually ended up with a splitting headache.

"We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow, Harry, why don't we have an early night?"

"I'm not tired." Harry's protest was automatic and expected, although somewhat spoiled by the huge yawn that split his face.

"Nevertheless." Snape stood and led the way into the tiny adjoining bed chamber. Harry reluctantly followed, but brightened when he saw the wide bed.

"Are we sleeping together again?" he said hopefully. He climbed on the bed and bounced. "Great!"

Snape surveyed the already rumpled bedclothes and the happily bouncing boy and sighed in resignation. "Yes. Great." He tapped the side of his own face and Harry stopped bouncing long enough to take his glasses back off and lay them carefully on the bedside table.

Snape gathered his personal items from their expanded trunk while Harry lay back on the pillows, eyes already drooping.

"Aren't you having an early night too?"

Snape straightened and suppressed a groan at his twinging spine. His kit contained a potion to pour in the bath that would relax his abused muscles and ensure he could survive another long flight with a small child on his lap.

"After a quick bath," he murmured, but Harry was already drifting into slumber.

888

Harry woke with a start and looked around him. The first thing he realised was that he didn't have the warm comfort of his bed curtains drawn around him. The second thing he realised was that he didn't know where he was.

"Daddy?" he whispered, glad that the lamps were softly glowing. He drew his knees up and peered over the edge of the soft quilt. "Daddy?"

Somewhere a clock ticked and the old walls creaked, but his father's reassuring voice did not call out an answer.

Without curtains the bed seemed enormous and the dim edges of the room seemed shadowy and sinister. Biting his lip Harry vacillated, torn between two choices. He could stay in the warmth of this big strange bed, or he could venture out to find his father. A floorboard creaked and Harry made up his mind.

Boldly he pushed the covers down and climbed off the bed, feeling the chill of the bare wooden floor beneath his feet. He wanted to call for his father again, but now he was out of bed he didn't like to somehow. The empty spaces of the unfamiliar room seemed large and echoing and his voice would seem very loud in the ringing silence.

Trembling with fear Harry crept to the door. He knew where he was now, remembered the inn and their dinner and his father sitting opposite him while they ate. But none of this made him feel better because now he also remembered the man with the pale yellow eyes who had stared at him downstairs. Whose stare had made Harry shiver.

The little sitting room was empty and Harry suppressed a sob. He'd never woken up alone like this before, not in a long time. Not since his daddy had come and fetched him.

Harry rubbed his arms and shivered again. He didn't like to remember the time before his daddy had come. He hardly thought about it at all any more. Only at night sometimes, when he woke up and he was all alone did the memories creep back.

Memories of shouting voices and the slam of the door and darkness.

"Daddy," he whispered, a tear squeezing from his eye. Harry wished he had Merlin to hold onto, but daddy had packed Merlin in their trunk and Harry was too afraid now to go back into that room, just as he was too afraid to go forward and search for his father.

Where was he? Had he gone back downstairs? Maybe he'd forgotten about Harry fast asleep in his bed.

Maybe he was gone?

Some part of Harry had always wondered when that would happen. Some part of him had always wondered if he'd be left alone again, hungry and frightened in the dark.

Eyes blurred from his tears Harry crouched down on the floor and began to sob.

"Daddy."

888

Snape awoke with the realisation that he'd fallen asleep in the tub. With a muttered spell he reheated the water and groaned with pleasure as the chill left his limbs. So much for soothing his abused body. Now he had deep creases from the sides of the porcelain tub and his skin was as wrinkled as a shrivelfig.

He wondered idly what the time was and was just relaxing back against the curved sides of the tub when the back of his neck began to prickle. Straightening abruptly he bent his head and listened hard. Was that Harry calling him?

Snape climbed out of the tub and wrapped his robe firmly around his narrow waist, still straining his ears. Just how long had he been dozing? He pushed open the bathroom door and hurried out into the sitting room, stopping short in horror at the sight of Harry crouched by the bedroom door, head buried against his knees.

"Harry?" he exclaimed, spinning for the front door, wand in his hand. But the door was still tightly shut and his magical wards were clearly in place. Lowering his wand Snape turned back to his son, realising that the boy had not moved at the sound of his father's voice but was still crouching, trembling arms locked around his knees and covering his face.

"Harry, what is it? Are you hurt?" He crouched next to the boy, gently touching his bent head and curving a hand around one shaking shoulder. "Son?"

Harry was sniffling into his knees and Snape swiftly made up his mind, sitting back on the cold floor he lifted the curled up child and cuddled him against his chest, pained realisation flooding him.

"Couldn't you find me, Harry?" he murmured, feeling the boy's limbs trembling against his chest. He curved him closer and laid his cheek against the boy's jet black hair. "Were you frightened?"

But Harry was still silent and Snape could only hold him close and try to warm his chilled little form with the warmth of his own body.

"I was just in the bath, Harry, that's all. I wouldn't leave you, son, don't you know that yet?"

Harry shifted his head, but only to bury it in his father's throat.

"Oh, Harry," Snape sighed sadly. "When will you trust me?"

Eventually he stood and carried Harry back into the bedroom, leaning over the bed to try to lay him down. But Harry only clutched at him, moaning his distress.

"I'm not leaving you," Snape soothed, ignoring his damp robe and climbing into the bed, Harry still firmly attached to him. "Lay back, Harry. Daddy's here."

The clutching fingers slowly relaxed and Harry's limbs became lax as his head grew heavy against his father's shoulder.

But Snape knew it would be a long time before he would find any rest that night. He hadn't seen Harry so distressed since their very early days together and the boy had never maintained this dark silence for so long, even then. What was he thinking in that tousled little head? Was he remembering all the years his father had abandoned him before? Would he ever forget that time? Would those scars ever heal?

Would he ever forgive his father?

Snape could hold the little child close and try to sooth his fears and worries. He could make all the promises in the world and try to regain a lost trust with his very young son. But when Harry was older what questions would he ask then? Would there be forgiveness then, for Severus Snape?

888

Snape awoke to Harry thrashing next to him and he automatically caught the flailing little limbs, curling his body over Harry's small form to comfort him.

"Harry," he murmured and the boy started awake, tear swollen eyes blinking in the soft lamplight.

"Uncle Vernon!" he gasped and now Snape jerked at the sound of that hated muggles name. He could never remember Harry ever speaking of him before. "Uncle Vernon!"

"He's not here, Harry," Snape said firmly, trying to catch the wildly darting eyes. Finally he released Harry's hand and caught his small pointed chin, turning it gently so that he could gaze into his son's eyes and convey the truth of his message. "You will never see that muggle again, do you hear me?"

"He said there's no such thing as magic," Harry gasped, his narrow chest heaving. "And the door went bang and it was dark!" His eyes finally focused on his father's face, filling with tears and overflowing. "It was dark, daddy! It was dark!"

Snape caught him up, crushing him against his chest, feeling tears fill his own eyes as Harry clutched at him, twining thin limbs around his torso.

"It was just a dream, son," he whispered, eyes stinging, burning.

"I called and called for you," Harry was muttering against his chest.

"And I came, Harry," Snape reminded him desperately. "I will always come. Please believe that, son. Daddy really needs you to believe that. I love you, Harry. I love you so much."

Harry sniffed and drew back a little, blinking his wet eyes and peering into his father's eyes. "Are you crying, daddy?" he whispered thickly. A little hand let go its hold and touched Snape's face, stroking clumsily at the wetness beneath his father's eyes. "Are you crying like me?"

"I'm sad, Harry," Snape said honestly, for the first time in his life not trying to hide his tears. How long had it been since he'd cried anyway?

He really hadn't thought he could any more.

"Uncle's gone?" Harry appealed and Snape nodded mutely. "It was just a bad dream," Harry sighed, laying his head back on his father's shoulder.

Snape ran trembling hands over Harry's narrow back, feeling the tension finally drain from him. His own heart still hurt in his chest, the memory of Harry's frightened words still ringing in his head.

Would Harry ever forgive him? Well why should he? Snape knew he would never forgive himself.

"I need to pee," Harry said prosaically and despite his grief Snape had to snort in amusement. He rested his wet face against his boy's head for another moment and then sat up stiffly.

"Come on then," he said, sitting Harry up and straightening the neck of his night gown. He looked into those slanted green eyes and tried to smile, just a little. "All right, Harry?"

Harry nodded, knuckling his eyes and yawning a little. "It was a horrid dream."

"I've had a few myself," Snape confided, lifting Harry to the floor and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Don't forget your slippers."

Harry pushed his feet into the slippers and reached for his glasses, shoving them on his nose. Then he reached trustingly for his father's hand and let himself be led to the bathroom.

"There's water still in the tub," he observed as he lifted his night gown and aimed for the toilet.

"I fell asleep in the bath," Snape told him, taking the opportunity to strip off the damp robe and wriggle into his own night shirt. Harry was washing his hands in the sink and Snape handed him a thin towel. "That's why I wasn't there when you awoke," he explained again, but Harry just nodded and held his hand out again.

Snape led him back to bed and they crawled back under the still warm covers.

Harry curled up against him and yawned, little pink tongue curling like a cat's.

"I love you too, daddy," he murmured. Then he was asleep.

888

Dawn came while Snape still lay sleepless, but curiously his mind was fresh and clear, amazingly focused. It had been a hard night and a long one.

But now it was morning, and the sun was warming the room around them, and his son was sleeping by his side.

Back and forth in the darkest hours before the dawn Snape had wrestled with his demons of the past. Not just those dealing with Harry, but further back, playing and replaying all those small mistakes that had led to larger ones, all the battles, real and imagined, all those steps that had led him on the path to this place. It had been quite exhausting.

But now it was morning, and the sun was warming the room around them, and his son was sleeping by his side.

For years Snape had thought he was living one day at a time, but with the clarity of hindsight he knew he'd been fooling himself. He'd actually been living those same days over and over again, caught in the past, that endless loop replayed. No forgiveness for those who had let him down all his life. No forgiveness for his own costly mistakes. No forgiveness even for Harry's mother, who had known enough to flatter and cajole him into giving her what she wanted, but not enough to know how offensive her automatic assumption that he would never want a child of his own had been.

But now it was morning, and the sun was warming the room around them, and his son was sleeping by his side.

And she was dead. And he was dead. And they were dead.

And now despite the darkness of the night before it was a bright sunny morning. And despite the tears of the night before there would be smiles on Harry's face again and Harry's endless well of love and forgiveness would be drawn upon once more.

And if one day it proved that well had run dry... If as he grew older Harry found he could not forgive so readily...

Well, then, Snape would face it when and if it came.

The endless loop must be broken, even if he didn't deserve and hadn't earned the right to be freed from its prison. Because Harry deserved it, and Harry needed him to be strong. Right now, Harry needed him.

And as for those far away tomorrows, well, they were as distant as that far away past.

Now Snape and Harry really would live one day at a time.

Beside him his son stirred, and Harry opened his eyes with a yawn, wrinkling his nose and snuffling into his father's side.

"I'm hungry," he said automatically, then he looked around the room and took it all in. He blinked his almond eyes and then turned a look on Snape, smiling slowly.

"Morning, daddy."

And there was that forgiveness, that sunshine that warmed Snape and melted away yet another layer of the shell that had encased and protected him for so long. Funny how at first he hadn't even noticed it happening but that now he could feel it as clear as day.

One day at a time.

"Good morning, Harry."

888

Harry clung to Merlin through breakfast, only putting him down long enough to let his father help him get dressed. He was a little subdued, but still managed to smile when he asked whether they would see dragons that day.

"I hope so, Harry," Snape said, packing the last of their belongings in the trunk. "We'll be at the inn where we're staying by lunch time." He turned and studied Harry, sitting on the edge of the bed with Merlin under his chin. Snape held out a hand. "I need to pack your doll, Harry."

Small hands clutched the soft bodied doll closer and Harry mutely shook his head.

Snape sighed. He was worried that this was a bad sign, the child hadn't clung to his doll since their early days together. "Harry, you don't want to have to carry him all the way to Rumania, do you?"

Harry set his chin stubbornly and nodded his head. "You carry me," he pointed out.

"What if you drop him?"

The chin jutted even further. "You don't drop me."

Snape sighed, reining in his patience. Another time he would insist, but not this morning. There were faint blue shadows under Harry's eyes, and the long little fingers that clung to his doll were trembling.

So he made allowances.

Pulling out his wand he held it aloft. "How's this then?" With a wave a collection of thin straps and buckled whipped into place and Merlin was bound snugly against Harry's chest.

Harry started as the straps flew into place, looking astonished for a moment. Then he carefully lifted both hands, beginning to smile again as Merlin stayed firmly in place.

"I'm carrying him just like you carry me!" he exclaimed in delight. He jumped from the bed and zoomed around the room, pretending he was riding a broomstick. "Look!"

Snape decided making allowances could be worth it once in a while. "That should keep him safe," he acknowledged.

Harry zoomed up to him and caught his hand. "Like you keep me safe, daddy?"

Snape caught his son up in his arms and perched him on his hip. "Just so," he said firmly. "All right, Harry?"

Harry wrapped one arm around his doll and another around his father's neck. "All right, daddy."