It was only first week of holidays, and things were not going well. 

It was the fifth night at the house, and Severus was reduced to pacing his bedroom at 3 a.m., cursing the Dursley’s, and thinking over his late arrival at King’s Cross.  Again. 

While he had indeed collected a scrawny bespectacled boy wizard at King’s Cross, it was clearly not the same boy he had escorted onto the train that very morning. 

The Harry Potter he had dropped off at the Express on the last day of school had been smiling.  He had participated in the expected sentimental good-bye with the groundskeeper and had boarded the train (in a mixture of hopping and running, as if performing some sort of childish ritual dance) with a confident wave to his guardian. 

There had been no need for reassurance.  No whispered fears or encouraging shoulder squeezes, no panic or tears, and surprisingly no frustrations on either of their parts. 

The fates must have been saving those for their reunion mere hours later in London. 

Severus was running ten minutes late when he arrived at the station, which had done nothing for his already foul mood.  Cursing muggles everywhere – at least some of them had the sense to scurry out of his path as he approached – he made for the barrier at Platform 9 and ¾ with haste. 

It had not taken him long to find Harry.  In his tardiness the crowd had dissipated considerably.  Not to mention the fact that a crowd of redheads surrounded the boy.  From the looks of it the youngest Weasley – another to join them next year, Snape thought with dismay – was regaling her brothers with questions about their year, while the Weasley matriarch fussed over the lot of them. 

To anyone else’s untrained eye the boy’s demeanour would have been unchanged from the morning, all patience and confidence.  But Severus saw the slight clench in his jaw and the way he curled and uncurled the hem of his T-shirt in his fist.  Those familiar compulsive movements told him more than enough about Harry’s emotional state. 

He had ended up surprising the boy, that much had been clear by the look on Harry’s face when he reached out a hand to pull the ragged hemline from clenched fist where it was trapped. The memory of the strange mixture of relief and sorrow in those eyes haunted him, but it was not the thing that kept him from his bed in the wee hours of the morning. 

No, he was awake because he was waiting for Harry. 

HSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS 

He had said nothing to the child initially.  He knew that Harry’s mask, however badly placed it may be, would remain intact while they were in company.  Instead he had simply waited for the others to depart before pulling Harry lightly towards him. 

“We shall be apparating home.”  Hmm, he had expected some sort of reaction to the word ‘home’.  Perhaps he had simply grown out of his Hufflepuff-like tendencies?  Dismissing the inconsequential thought, he looked down to see the lad staring straight ahead, as if facing the firing squad. 

“Are you ready?” He did not actually wait for a response.  “On my count then. 1. . .2. . .” Before he could hit 3, however, Harry let out a strangled noise somewhere between a squeak and a hiccough and spun himself around to bury his face in Severus chest.  He did so with such force that the teacher was taken off balance; it was all he could do to tighten his arms around the child before disappearing. 

He managed to land upright, although with a minor sway.  He could feel the boy’s glasses digging into his skin.  He did not realize that such a small person could possess such a painfully strong grip. 

“If you would please to cease imitating human Velcro, we have arrived,” he murmured.   

Harry stepped back, with a hot flush to his face and neck.  “I – I’m – Hey!” he exclaimed, eyes squinting in question at his teacher, “How do you know what Velcro is?” 

“I am full of mysteries.” 

His response caused Harry to roll his eyes with a snort.  That’s better.As he walked he began listing off points,  “You are not to go any further than this fence line when you are outdoors.  That is where the property wards end.  Do not attempt to test them.  There are no neighbours for some distance, but I’d prefer you not to go above the tree line when flying.  The front door requires a password to enter, regardless of the wards, and that password is Intromittro.” At the key word the front door clicked, and Snape opened it without fuss, leading Harry into the house.   

The boy didn’t move from the doorway for several moments, and Severus was almost to the kitchen before he noticed. 

“You do not need to wait to be invited in, Harry.  This is your home for the summer.”  

He regretted the words almost immediately after they left his mouth.  Despite his lacklustre grades at Hogwarts, Potter was remarkably quick, and adept at reading between the lines.  It was proof of a survival instinct he should not have had.  Learning to hear what is left unsaid is the quickest way to avoid the fist of your father, he thought.  Or uncle.  Yes, Potter was very skilled in this area, and Severus could see that he had immediately taken the words to mean that the situation was temporary. 

Returning to Harry he could same look in the boy’s eyes that he had been wearing at the train station.  If he never saw such resignation and acceptance on a child’s face again it would be too soon. 

“I was simply referencing the fact that we will both be returning to the school come September.” Harry simply shrugged, looking about him with a falsely casual look.  “I didn’t give it much thought.” He replied. 

Severus made a noise of scepticism, but said nothing.  Instead he simply put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and guided him further into the house. 

HSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS 

Harry tried to feign interest as the man led him around the house, making a mental list of the various rooms as they were introduced. 

Kitchen – check. 

“The sink is charmed with an autowash spell.  Simply deposit your dirty dishware within and they will be cleaned.”

“Like a muggle dishwasher?”

“Indeed.  This is the pantry.  I shall endeavour to keep it more fully stocked than it currently is.  Do try to remember that there is no snacking after bed time.”

“What?  I mean – snacking?”

“Snacking – eating between meals, usually small amounts –”

“I know what it means!  It’s just, I mean, that’s allowed?  My Aunt and Uncle never…”

“If it aids you, just try to behave as you would at Hogwarts.  With less trouble making, of course.”

“But I didn’t snack at Hogwarts.”

“You didn’t --? You mean to tell me you ate only at the prescribed times in the hall?”

Harry scowled.  Why did every question make him sound like he was incredibly stupid?  “No I didn’t OK!  I didn’t know it was allowed.”

“Well it is allowed here.  Just attempt not to ruin your appetite for your meals.  Or gorge yourself on junk.  Keep your Dursely cousin in mind as a warning and you should be fine.”

Harry laughed, in spite of himself. 

Living Room – check. 

“No muddy shoes, or substances that have the consistency of goo.  No Weasley twins products.  I would really like this room to survive the summer.”

“I’m not that bad!”

“Hmmm. If you are planning on having your little friends visit it will have to wait until I have the floo reconnected.”

“My friends can visit?”

“Against my better judgement, yes.”

“What’s a floo?” 

Cellar – check.  

Harry looked into the blackness with concern.  “I won’t ever have to go down there, will I?”

Snape seemed to narrow his eyes at the question, but only shook his head and closed the door.“It is an interesting place to explore on a rainy day.”

“I’d rather read my potions textbook thanks.”  He shuddered as they moved on, and fought the urge to press himself into the man’s side. 

Potions lab that I am ‘not to enter without express permission upon pain of death’ – check. 

Harry could only roll his eyes and snort with derision.  Like he’d go into a potions lab during his summer holiday. 

Finally, Snape led him up to the first door at the top of the stairs and opened it with the closest thing to a flourish Harry had ever seen him perform. “And this is your room Harry.” 

HSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS 

The boy took in the room in silence at first.  He did not move from its centre, instead he twisted around on the spot to see everything.  Severus had to admit that he was eager to see Harry’s reaction. 

With a smile his charge turned to him.  “It’s a wonderful room, sir.  Luka must have really loved it.” 

Severus suddenly found it very difficult to swallow.  He had not expected that. 

“I think you’ve misunderstood Harry.  This room is yours.  No one else has slept here.  It is only for you.” 

He watched as Harry’s jaw dropped open, and the snap back shut as he attempted to reign in his reaction.  “But it’s his stuff, right?  I mean a different room, but the furniture and books…” He was almost pleading, and it bothered the professor more than he could account for. 

“No Harry.  They are not Luka’s things.  They have been sold or put in storage.  These are yours.  I know you would have probably preferred to choose your own furnishings, but I wanted your room ready for your arrival.” 

As he spoke he quietly moved into the room, until finally he was standing beside Harry.  Unable to stop himself, he crouched down beside the 11 year old, trying to see the space from Harry’s point of view. 

His patience was rewarded when he heard the whisper. “I’ve never had my own room before.”  

“Mmmm.  Well, there is a first time for everything, yes?  Now why don’t you unpack and explore your room.” He stood and pulled the boy’s shrunken trunk from a pocket of his robe and returned it to normal size, along with Hedwig’s cage and a few other sundry items.  Harry, however, had not moved. 

“What are you waiting for?  I am more than aware of your penchant for tactile exploration, I’m surprised you haven’t run your hands over half the objects in this room yet.” 

“I can’t.  It’s all too nice and new.  What if I get something dirty?  Or ruin it?” 

There was only one way to get past this barrier quickly, and with frustration Severus quickly lifted Harry into the air and proceeded to set him on his feet, dirty shoes and all, on the bed.  Before there was a chance for a reaction he simply said, “There are such things as cleaning spells Potter.” 

Before he could leave the room however, Harry stopped him with a question.“Where is your room, sir?” 

“Right beside yours.  Directly across from the toilet.” 

And that is where he found the boy at 4 am that night.  Or, to be more precise, he found Harry in the corridor directly outside his room, curled against the wall and half-asleep. 

That first night he thought nothing of it; perhaps it was simply sleep walking.  He simply guided Harry back to his room, tucked him in and returned to bed.  By the third night he attempted to question the boy about what was wrong, but despite being semi-conscious, Harry did not respond. 

The fourth night Harry arrived like clockwork.  And if Snape had needed any proof of the fact that this behaviour would not go away on it’s own, it was there in the blanket wrapped around the boy.  Harry had never brought bedding with him before; he was clearly settling in for the long haul. 

Severus was at a loss, which is why he found himself pacing his room at 3 a.m. the fifth night.  Soon the monitors he had built into the Harry’s room would sound, that much he knew.  What he didn’t know was exactly what was causing Harry’s need to camp outside his room. 

He blamed the Dursley’s, mostly because they were obvious.  But also obvious was that somehow this problem was tied to him.  The only explanation he could point to was his late arrival at King’s Cross.  But could 10 minutes have really impacted Harry to such a degree? 

Ringing alarms interrupted his thoughts.  Damn it Harry, what is going on in that head of yours?  Why this, why now? 

With a sigh he moved towards the door and his now nightly ritual of putting Harry back to bed. Something had to be done. 

Not for the first time, Severus Snape wondered what he had gotten himself into.

By the end of their first full week of holidays, Severus was so exhausted that he didn't trust himself to brew anything more complicated than a calming draft. He wasn't about to risk his Mastery by accidentally poisoning a child who needed a sleeping potion.

And speaking of children who needed a sleeping potion...if the fact that Harry kept rubbing at his eyes with his fist wasn't indication enough that he was over tired, that fact that he appeared moments away from toppling face first into his omelette certainly was.

If Snape being honest with himself, he knew he had put off speaking to the boy for too long already. At first he was able to justify it; likely the boy required a brief period of adjustment to his new circumstances that was all. But no signs of adjustment were forthcoming, and if he could not have a peaceful night’s sleep then he at least deserved to know the reason why.

Bracing himself, and then cursing himself for the need to do so, Severus set down his fork and turned his chair to face Harry more directly.

"We need to talk about your night time wanderings Harry."

A brief, almost unnoticeable pause occurred before Harry turned to respond. Severus suspected the child might soon come to regret choosing a spy for his parental figure, for that was a tell if ever he had seen one.

"My 'night time wanderings'? I don't know what you mean."

That he had not been expecting. Downplaying the issue, that would have been normal. But complete denial of any knowledge of waking in the night? He was certain the boy was conscious and lucid every time. He never spoke, but there was always the presence of strong emotion on Harry's face when Severus lead him back to his bedroom. No, he was quite certain the boy knew exactly what was going on.

"I am referring to the fact that you end up half-asleep outside my bedroom door every night about 3 a.m., and I would like to know what is going on."

"What are you talking about?"

"As I just explained --" he ground out at the continued denial, "I am talking about your habit of getting out of bed at night and sleeping outside my door."

The flush was rising on Harry's cheeks, and all pretence at breakfast was gone. This was not the way he had planned to cure their flagging energy.

"I'm not doing that Professor."

"Why are you lying to me?"

The shock at his question was easily read on Harry's face. "Just because I don't know what you're talking about doesn't mean I'm lying."

"That would be true if you honestly had no idea about what was going on, but I don't believe that to be the case. I think you very deliberately get out of bed every night to camp out in the hallway, and I'm curious as to why."

He had tried to keep his voice low and unthreatening, hoping the boy would respond more to his tone than his words. As he watched Harry's face contort with frustration and anger, Snape knew his efforts were unsuccessful.

He barely finished talking before Harry hollered back at him, "But I'm NOT! I'm not getting out of bed. I sleep all night!"

"Calm yourself. It's a simple inquiry. I am trying to get to the bottom of this problem, Harry."

"You don't understand! You're wrong!" Harry's colouring had cycled from red to pale and back again, and his breathing was becoming closer to hyperventilating, Severus noted with no small amount of alarm.

He stood and moved quickly towards the child. How had this situation gotten out of control so bloody rapidly? Predictably, Harry began to back away as his guardian approached, and Severus struggled not to curse at the reaction. At least not out loud.

"There's no need to panic. I'm not --"

"No! I stayed in bed. I didn't leave my cupboard, I didn't go anywhere, I swear!"

"Harry --"

Harry didn't hear him however, as that was the moment he slumped to the floor in a faint.

Severus managed to catch Harry before his head could hit the kitchen tiles, but only just. Letting loose a string of curse words, he lowered himself to the floor with Harry's head in his lap. He forewent the typical method of waking someone who fainted - slapping the boy would hurt him more than it would help him, particularly in his current state of mind.

Instead he took Harry by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. "Harry?" When there was no response Severus felt his heart leap into his throat. It was only instinct that allowed him to press his fingers to the boy’s throat, because the rest of his body was paralyzed.

They say that when you are faced with death, your life passes before your eyes. Snape knew that to be true. But as fear for the child in his arms threatened to topple him, it was not his own life he saw, but Harry’s. The all too short, all too miserable existence of one little boy passed by in a millisecond. A cold rush of knowledge followed: I am a terrible parent, and even an inadequate guardian. We were over the worst, things were supposed to be easy for us this summer!

“But things are never easy for us, are they Harry?”

And then just like that the coldness of doubt was erased, as Harry opened his eyes and asked one simple question:

“Dad?”

Severus almost laughed. “You know, one of us doesn’t have to have been unconscious for you to use that word.” Harry just blinked blearily at him, not getting the joke.

“You will be the death of me, child.”

Or the life of me.

*******

“I don’t need Madam Pomfrey!”

“Nonsense, you collapsed in the middle of the kitchen. It’s prudent to get you checked.”

“I’m *fine* really. I feel great.” To prove so, Harry sat up and moved to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

“Set one foot on the floor and you will live to regret it.”

Not wanting to test that statement, Harry settled back into the bed with a huff. Within moments he could hear the whoosh of the floo and the soft rumblings of his guardian’s voice. It was only minutes before he heard another whoosh, and he knew the healer had arrived.

“Well Mr. Potter, I hear you’ve given Professor Snape quite the fright just now. What seems to be the problem?”

Both man and boy found themselves frowning in annoyance at the witch, an act that seemed to bounce right off of her. She merely rolled her eyes and fixed them both with a stern look of her own.

“Regardless of biology you clearly share the same temper. Now quit sulking and tell me what happened.”

Severus chose to believe she wasn’t speaking to him, and it was just as well, as Harry chimed in with a mumbled answer.

“I, uh, fainted.”

“Hmm, well, let’s see, shall we?” And before even waiting for his go ahead she was whipping out her wand and waving it all over him. The action made him uncomfortable, but he did not draw back, a fact which gave him a small glow of pride. Slowly but surely he was getting somewhere. Maybe soon he would be just another normal boy.

“Well you’re okay, Mr. Potter.” Poppy said at last, interrupting his thoughts. “No lasting damage. You’re blood pressure’s a bit low, but it seems to be recovering. Now what, may I ask, were you doing when this happened?”

“We were having a discussion.” Snape informed her, with a glance at Harry.

“A discussion? That’s all? Well perhaps I ought to take another look --”

“A heated discussion!” Harry informed her hurriedly, before she could descend on him again.

“Ah,” Poppy replied in a knowing tone. “Were you yelling Mr. Potter?”

He felt himself blush as he responded. “Just a little.”

“He was also hyperventilating,” Severus cut in, causing Harry to shoot him a look of betrayal.

“Well, there it is then. He simply got overexcited. Lack of oxygen, drop in blood pressure. It’s all fairly textbook.”

“Textbook? For a boy to drop to the floor in the middle of an argument?”

“Well, it’s rarer at his age, granted. But it’s not entirely unusual for a toddler to faint in the middle of a tantrum. Same principle applies here.”

Severus, for his part, was relieved. Harry, on the other hand, was outraged. And embarrassed.

“I did. Not. Throw. A tantrum!”

“Of course not dear. But you’d best calm yourself lest it happen again. Get a few hours rest and you should be right as rain. If it happens again,” she directed at Snape, “floo me.”

And with that she was gone.

There was a long, excruciatingly uncomfortable silence between the two wizards. Harry kept his eyes on his hands, unable to face the professor. He found himself picking at the edges of his fingernails, pulling at the rough skin there. He had just stuck his thumb in his mouth to suck up the tiny rivulet of blood his nervous habit had produced when the familiar long pale fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling it out.

“Stop that. Soon your hands will be nothing but a mass of festering scabs.”

Harry scowled again, for what felt like the ninetieth time that morning.

“You did not finish your breakfast.”

“Not hungry.”

“Nevertheless, you need to eat; your blood sugar could probably stand the boost. I shall return. And then we will talk.”

Shite but the man was persistent. “What if I faint again?”

Severus turned from his place in the doorway.

“You will not.”

Harry wasn’t sure if it was a reassurance or a command.

*********

The man returned far too quickly for Harry’s tastes, and as the footsteps approached his room he shut his eyes and sank back into the pillows.

“No one can fall asleep that quickly, unless you have fainted again, in which case I shall have to call Madame Promfrey again.”

“Ugh, fine!” Harry snapped, sitting up in bed. He didn’t want to eat and he didn’t want to talk. He just wanted everything to go back to normal.

“Here,” Severus thrust a bowl at him. “Eat this while we talk.”

“Porridge? Yuck! This stuff always tastes like glue!”

“If your only experience is that instant-sludge the muggles make, I expect you will be pleasantly surprised.” With that confident statement the man settled himself on the edge of Harry’s bed and watched him silently and patiently until Harry spooned a bit of the food into his mouth.

Snape was right. It tasted mildly of brown sugar and honey and milk.

“I will ask you again, not to be cruel, but because I need to know to be able to help you. Please tell me child, what is driving you out of bed at night?”

It’s like he purposefully hit all of my weak spots to get me to talk, Harry thought. But he couldn’t deny that such a strategy worked.

Twirling the spoon between his fingers, watching as his face distorted in the reflection with each flip of the utensil he finally whispered,

“You were late.”

“I assume you are speaking of King’s Cross. Yes, I was late. I do apologize for that Harry. I could tell you were bothered the instant I saw you.”

“I got scared.”

“I did not realize it still bothered you. You never said anything about it.”

“Neither did you!” Harry found himself yelling. Remembering the threat of Madame Pomfrey returning he tried to calm himself. “I didn’t know where you were. I was worried that maybe you’d gotten hurt again, or even killed.” He paused, swallowing past the lump in his throat with some difficulty. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind, that you didn’t want me to live with you. Where were you?”

“I will show you were I was. Stay here, I will be back in a moment.”

When he did return (to Harry’s secret relief), Snape was not empty handed.

“I should have told you about this right away, and that was an oversight on my part. I was waiting for the right time, which never seemed to come.” With that he handed Harry the envelope in his hand.

The boy unfolded and examined it with a level of care and precision the professor couldn’t help but wish he’d give to his school work.

Finally he spoke.

“Certificate of Guardianship,” Harry read in an awed voice. “You got guardianship of me?”

“I did. That’s where I was. Securing the consent of your relatives and visiting the Ministry.”

Harry’s eyes dropped to the bottom of the paper, and Severus could see his hands begin to tremble.

“Harry?”

Watery eyes met his own. “It’s not that I’m not grateful, and that I don’t want this so so much. It’s just that I thought, I mean, I thought maybe--”

“You thought?” He prompted.

“They never did want me, did they?”

He couldn’t help himself, he pulled his ward into a tight embrace.

So that’s what that feels like, Snape thought, as the pieces of his already broken heart disintegrated into powder.

No one could say he hadn’t made a valiant effort to ignore the floo, that much was certain. But Albus Dumbledore was not a man to be ignored, even by someone as unsociable as Severus. Giving in with a sigh he turned his head marginally towards the fireplace and asked, “What?”

“Severus my boy, may I floo through?”

Despite suspecting that the man had worded it that way just to have it rhyme, he grunted his consent. Or something approximating it, anyway. He didn’t hear the headmaster actually step into the room; but then you wouldn’t. The man moved like his feet didn’t touch the ground. So he was somewhat surprised when the older man came to a stop at his side with a solid thump from his walking stick.

“Severus, are you feeling quite well?”

The question surprised him, and he cracked an eyelid to peer at the headmaster. “I am perfectly fine, why do you ask?”

“Well, it’s just that I don’t believe I have ever seen you draped across a chesterfield before.”

“I have never been the exhausted guardian of an emotionally distraught boy-legend before.”

In his peripheral vision Snape saw Dumbledore settle into an armchair. Not a short visit then.

“Life with Harry is as interesting as ever, I presume?”

“Interesting. That would be one word for it.”

“Well, your secret is safe with me, Severus.”

That managed to propel him into a sitting position. He shouldn’t fall into the old man’s traps like this. Certainly not after all this time. And yet -- “My secret?”

“That you enjoy it, having Harry with you.”

“Yes, as you can see I am positively giddy. My pseudo-parenting joy is outweighed only by my complete incompetence at the task.”

“I don’t believe Harry thinks you’re incompetent.”

“And he’s had such good parental role models in the past that he would recognize incompetence when he saw it.”

“Which brings me to ask: how is Harry?”

“Confusing.” The headmaster actually laughed, which for some reason raised Severus’ hackles. “I’m completely serious.”

“I have no doubt that you are.”

“Surely you did not come here solely to laugh at me, so do get on with it.”

“I had some further questions regarding your retrieval of the stone. This seemed an opportune moment. The amusement is simply an added bonus.”

“I thought we’d already discussed the pertinent facts.”

“As did I, however Quirrell’s body was brought up. He had some curious injuries.”

“You don’t say?”

“Curious injuries indeed.”

“Ask your question, Albus.”

“I plan to, however --” he flicked his eyes towards the doorway of the room, and Severus saw the warning there.

“I am well aware of that. Ask your question.”

“How did he die, Severus?”

“I killed him. I believe Poppy would classify it as ‘Blunt Force Trauma to the Head’.”

“And before that?” He could hear the gravity in Dumbledore’s voice. It made him shiver, but he would not lie. He had no regrets.

“I believe the Cruciatus may have been incanted.”

Silence hung heavily between them. He thought he headmaster would say something, but he did not. Severus would almost rather hear of his disappointment than bear this...nothing. Finally his defensiveness burst out of him. “He threatened the boy, and I will not have it!”

“And yet the Dursley’s live?”

“Because I needed their signature.”

“And because you knew their deaths would hurt the child.”

“And that.” He quietly admitted.

Albus gave a serene smile then, and Snape felt his spine relax. “Harry is lucky to have such a formidable champion as you on his side.”

“He could do a thousand times better than m--” but his protest was cut off.

“Besides his threats, did Quirrell say anything else? Last words, perhaps?”

It was on his lips to say ‘No’ – the truth of the matter was that Quirrell was in no shape to speak at all at that juncture, even if he’d wanted to – when Severus stopped himself. Instead he looked up at the Headmaster and smirked, replying,

“He did mention regrets. Said something about how he wished he’d never eavesdropped on the conversation of his elders when he was a boy. That maybe his fate could have been avoided if he hadn’t taken to lurking in hallways.”

Sure enough, there was a muffled squeak, and then the hurried patter of feet back towards Harry’s bedroom.

“Now Severus, was that really necessary?” Albus asked with a matching smirk.

“No, but then you’re not the only one with a strange sense of humour. Harry!” he called. “Come in here.”

When the boy appeared in the doorway seconds later, he had at least the grace to look embarrassed. And as was usual when he was feeling awkward, Harry hovered hummingbird-like in the doorway.

“Well, come in. You’ve heard your fill I presume?”

Harry blushed red, but nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Hello, Harry. How have you been?”

If he hadn’t been listening to the two men talk, Harry might not have noticed the headmaster at all. He was too busy trying to decipher the look on Profess – his fath – or was guardian more the proper word? Oh hell, he couldn’t even figure out what to call the man in his own thoughts!

“Harry!”

Blinking hard, the room came back into focus, and both Professors were looking at him.

“Huh?”

Snape sighed. “It seems I have my job cut out for me when it comes to teaching you some etiquette. 3 things, and pay attention now. First, don’t say ‘huh’, if you want something repeated you say ‘I beg your pardon?’ Second, you are not to eavesdrop on my conversations again. This one in particular was not meant for 11 year old children. Talking about what happened when I went down to retrieve that stone is a rather macabre topic, Harry. You should not have listened, particularly given your tendency towards night terrors.”

“I don’t have a tendency towards night whatevers!” This was embarrassing. Did the man really have to basically call him a baby right in front of the headmaster? The second his protest had been made, however, the professor fixed a look on him that made Harry squirm. Or at least it would have, had he not been determined to act his age.

“Do you truly insist on starting this argument about what you do in the middle of the night? Because I thought we’d gone through this already today, and I trust you remember how that ended? I assure you that I have no desire to re-live the experience.”

Reflexively his hand fisted and came to his chest, even though he said the words out loud.

“I’m sorry!” He hated the way his voice cracked, and how defensive the words came out. “I know I wake you up and I’ll try not to have any more bad dreams. Or have them quietly anyway.”

Snape grabbed his hands, quieting both his signs and his words. “’Harry, you’re missing the point. You can’t help the fact that you have nightmares, and I do not want you to apologize for them or try to hide them from me. I simply do not wish you to hear things that may frighten you.”

“I won’t be --” But he shut his mouth rather quickly when Snape pressed a finger against his lips.

“Hush. What’s done is done; you’ve heard it all regardless. And there is still our 3rd point of etiquette.”

Harry had to close his eyes and shake his head to remove his confusion. How did they get back to this? “Huh? I mean – I beg your pardon?” He tried to hide his pleasure when Snape noticed his effort and smiled.

“Good boy. But you still haven’t greeted the Headmaster. He asked you how you were doing.”

Oh. For the second time in as many minutes he had needed to be reminded of the old wizard’s presence. Turning from his guardian he grinned at the headmaster, though he suddenly felt very shy. He had no idea how to interact with the man outside of school, particularly in light of all that had passed between them the previous year.

It seemed that the last few times he had seen the man he’d acted like, well, like a freak. The man had seen him cry and scream and hit and call Snape ‘Daddy’. Shyness washed over him, and he found himself stepping unconsciously closer to his father. “ ‘lo Professor Dumbledore. I’m fine thank you. And yourself?”

A delighted smile lit up Dumbledore’s face. “I am very well thank you for asking. I trust you are settling in well here?”

“Oh yes sir! I have my own room with a bed and dresser and everything? Oh! And wait here, I have to show you!”

In seconds he came bounding back, papers held delicately out to show Dumbledore. But the man seemed to actually be reading the whole thing. That would take way too long!

“They’re guardianship papers! Professor Snape is my guardian now!”

“That is a very exciting turn of events. I am very pleased for you. And for Severus.” A look passed between the two men that Harry didn’t quite get, but he didn’t really care. He was too excited about sharing his news.

“Me too! This means I get to stay here and no one can take me away and this’ll be my home too unless Professor tells me to go --”

“Harry I believe we discussed that--”

“Oh right, but he says he’s not gonna do that so I’ll be here with him till I’m really old, like till I’m 35!”

“Harry, take a breath please. I think perhaps you are overtired. Why don’t you take those papers back to your room and get into bed?”

“But it’s still early, and the headmaster is visiting...”

“You have had a long week.”

“I’ll be really quiet, I promise. Can’t I stay sir, please.”

“Keep that up and I’ll have to change your name to Oliver Twist.”

“Huh? I mean, pardon?”

“Nevermind. Go put on your robe and slippers and then you may return.”

“Thank you sir!” And then once again the two wizards heard the sound of bare feet running through the hall.

Severus watched the boy go, purposefully avoiding Dumbledore’s gaze. He didn’t need to look into those blue eyes to know how much they’d be twinkling in that annoying fashion the old man had. But of course avoiding his mentor’s eyes didn’t stop the man from speaking.

“You have changed, Severus.”

“Oh spare me the butterflies and rainbows, Albus, it’s been a week since you saw me last.”

“Be that as it may, something has solidified between you and Harry. You seem to have grown into your title.”

“Oh for pity’s sake--” Severus gave his best sneer, but he feared he was out of practice. Best to work on that.

Before either could continue, a loud crash was heard from the direction of Harry’s room, followed by a quiet groan. Severus snapped to his feet in reaction, heading quickly towards the noise. Before leaving the room, however, he turned back towards Dumbledore with a warning.

“Don’t even think about saying it, old man!”

As he rushed towards Harry, he heard the sound of Albus’ heartfelt laughter trailing behind him.

“What on earth are you doing, Harry, practically hanging from the closet shelf?” Severus asked as he hauled the boy to his feet, checking him over for injuries immediately. “You knocked your head quite good, didn’t you?”

“Did I? It doesn’t hurt. Not too much anyw --- ow!”

“Hurts to touch though. Hmmm.”

“Well you’re not supposed to touch it! You never touch it or else it won’t --”

Snape paused briefly in his ministrations, startled, but tried not to show it. He covered instead by taking out his wand. “Or else it won’t what?”

“It won’t heal as fast.”

“A hard won lesson, I imagine.”

“Yessir.”

“Harry, are you feeling all right?”

“Huh? Yeah. I mean of course.”

“I fear you may have given yourself a slight concussion.”

Harry turned, straightening his glasses. “Well, what does it feel like when you have one?”

“You get dizzy, your vision is blurry, and you may feel like you’re going to be ill.”

“Oh. I’ve had some of them before then and this doesn’t feel nothing like that.”

Was the boy trying to shock him? Severus supposed it wasn’t out of the question. But no, Harry’s methods were generally even less subtle; his actions in class when he had wanted the man’s attention were proof of that.

Oh. Perhaps subtlety was beyond him, as well.

He gestured towards the bed. “Sit down Harry.”

Harry was suddenly nervous. He hated when the man’s voice dropped down deeper that way. He meant serious business when he did that, though he suspected Snape didn’t do it on purpose.

He didn’t think he meant to give him that look, either, but he still did. That long, odd look. He’d seen the man give a similar look to a pile of ingredients on his potions scales. Snape had looked at him that way many times now, and Harry still couldn’t figure what he meant by it.

It made him feel weird. Like Snape could see inside him. Heck, maybe it’d be easier that way. He wouldn’t have to talk then.

With nothing else to do, Harry sat as he was told. Snape, in his way, did not beat around the bush. “Your Uncle left you with concussions?”

“Yessir.”

“Do you wish to tell me more about it?”

“Nosir.” He hadn’t even noticed it when the man had healed him. How...sneaky.

“Well, should you wish to, I will listen.” In spite of himself, Harry began to clench his hands together, a nervous habit so obvious that even he noticed it.

With the apparent end of the conversation Snape stood to leave. Harry felt very suddenly cut adrift. Just as his guardian reached the bedroom doorway, just as he was about to cry out for him to ‘Wait!’, Snape turned back.

Snape turned back and reached out with one hand towards Harry. And as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him to take Harry by the hand – Just Like That – he said “The Headmaster must be wondering where we have gotten to. Shall we rejoin him?”

“Ah, my boys!” Dumbledore cried when they returned to the sitting room. “I feared the attic gnomes must have found you!”

Anyway who thinks Albus Dumbledore doesn’t have a sick and twisted sense of humour deserves to spend more time with the man, Severus thought as Harry’s hand tightened around his own.

“Ignore him. There are no gnomes in the attic.”

“But there are gnomes?”

Not liking the rather greyish-green cast to the boy’s skin, he sent Harry a purposefully level look and replied, “Surely the first year who took on a troll wouldn’t be frightened of a mere gnome?”

“I never said I was scared!”

“No, of course not.”

“Are you all right, Harry? It sounded like quite the thump in there.”

“Yes Headmaster, I’m fine.” Harry replied, curling himself into the remaining arm chair. “I fell off a chair.”

“What were you doing up there in the first place, rooting around in the shelves of the cupboard?” Severus asked. He asked it in that way he had, Harry noted, the way many grownups had. Asking even though it sounded like he already knew the answer.

“I was putting my guardianship papers away.”

“You keep them in the cupboard?”

“Yes sir.”

And, as if he could sense Harry’s apprehension regarding the line of questioning, Snape dropped the matter.

Harry was very glad.

HSHSHSHSHSHSHSSHHSHSSHHSHSHSHSHS

It did not take the boy long to fall asleep, curled up in a chair once more, he noted. What was it that prevented Potter from falling asleep – and staying asleep! – in a bed like every other child?

Whatever the reason for the abominable habit, as he rose to get the Headmaster yet another cup of tea he took the opportunity to shake Harry awake and guide him, still bleary eyed, to the sofa where he immediately curled up against the arm rest.

“Stretch out, Harry.”

There was a rather incoherent whimper, and as Severus covered him with an afghan, Harry asked, “’m I in my room?”

“No, you are still in the sitting room. Dumbledore and I are here.”

“Don’t go nowhere while I’m sleepin’.”

“I would not.” Severus caught the look Albus gave him as he took the arm chair position that Harry had left vacant.

“It seems young Mr. Potter is quite forthcoming when not fully awake. Is he always so Severus?”

“I would not know, it is not a time that we usually use to converse, Albus.”

“Hmmm. Well. Just an observation.”

“Nothing is ever just an observation with you.”

“Do you find?”

He did, but he also knew that Dumbledore had a point. Rising, Severus approached the chesterfield where Harry lay, not yet totally asleep.

“Harry, why do you keep your guardianship papers in the cupboard?”

“Hmm? Beg your pardon?”

Severus couldn’t resist a chuckle at that, and leaned over to remove Harry’s glasses. And if he happened to brush his fringe off his face a bit with the edge of his hand, well, that was purely accidental.

“Your guardianship papers, why do you keep them on the shelf in your cupboard?”

“ ‘Cause that’s where I keep all my ‘portant stuff.”

“Did you learn that from your Aunt? Did she keep her important things in the cupboard?”

Harry closed his eyes tightly, as if against a sudden bright light. Snape was sure he wasn’t going to answer when suddenly the boy whispered, “No, Aunt Petunia only kept the bad, freaky things in the cupboard.”

Before he could think to respond, Albus interrupted. Almost as if he felt the need to remind them of his presence.

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to do, Severus, taking advantage of him like that.”

“Nice? No, it certainly wasn’t. It was smart, but it wasn’t nice. Besides, it was practically your idea.”

The old wizard smiled pleasantly at that, much to Snape’s annoyance. Looking back at Harry, the boy’s words replayed in him mind.

Aunt Petunia only kept the bad, freaky things in the cupboard.

The words, and his tone....it did not bode well.

It did not bode well at all.

HSHSHSHSHSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

Albus had stayed long into the night, much to his chagrin. The man was impervious to hints, choosing instead to wilfully ignore them and ask for another cup of tea.

And who was he to deny the greatest wizard in a century a cup of tea, after all?

Of course, that’s not to say he didn’t try. If he didn’t think the man would detect it in an instant he would have put a sleeping potion in the tea. Just a drop or two, just enough to make him yawn and head off through the floo, but no. One did not slip anything into Albus Dumbledore’s tea that he did not already want there.

It was unfortunate, and of course he managed to stay just long enough to see Harry wake from a nightmare and reach out to Severus, quite literally, for comfort.

He was grateful that Albus had not stayed around long enough to see him transfigure a pillow from his bed into a cot.

After he had Harry settled, he moved quickly towards the boy’s room. With a flick of his wand he lowered the top shelf to just below eye level. Sure enough, there was the scrolled parchment with the Ministry seal.

But that was not all.

There was a pair of socks and underpants.

A package of tissue.

The sign language book.

A leather-bound photo album filled with pictures of Lily and Potter.

Several packages of crackers that looked like they were bought on the Hogwart’s Express.

And that bloody empty jar of healing balm.

Quietly he raised the shelf back up to its original position and tried very hard not to think of the contents.

He tried not to think about the balm jar as he walked back to his room.

He tried not to think about the crackers as he tucked the blankets more tightly around the sleeping child.

He tried not to think about the socks and underclothes as he, against his instincts, pressed his lips into the boy's hair.

He tried not to think of little boys hiding in wardrobes and closets and what it all might mean as he climbed into bed to go to sleep.

He was not successful.

He woke up feeling good the next morning, which was a rather strange sensation. But it did not take long for the momentary peace to fade when he opened his eyes.  He was not in his room; that much was obvious.  For the little time he had spent actually sleeping in it, Harry had memorized every space of the room, every grain of the furniture and every fibre of the bedding.  He would recognize that room in the dark, blindfolded.

And this was not his room.

Catching himself at the brink of panic, he drew a breath.  But in those few seconds that he teetered between being asleep and full wakefulness, thoughts came flying at him unbidden, and he slammed his eyes shut again.

Did I do something wrong?  Maybe he told Dumbledore to take me away.  A tiny bit of rationality snuck through just then -- this wasn't Hogwart's.  And, he recognized with no small measure of relief, it wasn’t 4 Privet Drive.

Screwing up his courage, he forced himself to open his eyes again, facing his fears.  And almost instantly felt like a fool.  There in the big bed across the room was the professor, seemingly asleep.  As that reality settled in, Harry realized that he must be in the man's bedroom.  Why didn't he remember arriving here?  Was this why he had slept through the night for the first time in ages?

That possibility didn't make him feel like any less of a baby, despite the fact that it caused a return of that familiar warm glow in his chest.  He had to admit that it made him feel safe, too.  Or at least he assumed that's what the mysterious feeling was.  He really couldn't be sure, seeing as he had few previous experiences to compare it to.

Throwing back the covers -- not the ones from his own bed, he noted, one more gesture that drove the ache up from his chest to his throat -- he moved to stand, laughing quietly to himself when he saw his slippers tucked just under the edge of the cot.

He slipped them on and crept towards the bigger bed in the middle of the room.  Snape still appeared to be asleep, lying on his side, breathing evenly.  Harry wondered idly for a moment what the man dreamt about.  Potions, surely. 

Spurred on by his feelings of relief and security, he leaned over the man and peered at his face.  He certainly looked less scary when he was sleeping.  Not quite at peace though, as he noted the slight frown on Snape's face and the worry lines that creased his forehead.  After a moment or two of this inspection he began to feel ansty.  Would Snape ever wake up?

With a quiet grin Harry raised his hand and moved a finger towards the man’s face.  Just when he was millimetres away from poking his guardian, he was startled by Snape's rumbling voice stating,

"Do that and you will not get your finger back."

Harry jumped back with a squeak of surprise.  He had been positive Snape was asleep. Making a note to try and learn how to fake sleep that well, he spoke up.

"Do what?"

"You and I both know what you were going to do, and I highly suggest you resist the temptation now and in the future."  The older wizard had opened his eyes and was looking at Harry, but his facial expression gave nothing away.

"Why?" Harry asked, feeling brave and silly.

"I will bite it off."

"You would not!"

"You don't think so?  Do test me, then."

"Maybe I will..." And so he stepped forward and moved his finger once again towards the man’s face.  Just as he was within touching distance, Snape turned his head and snapped his teeth at Harry's hand, as if imitating a dog. 

Shocked and thrilled at the man's action -- Snape could be silly! -- Harry jumped back with a high pitched squeal of laughter. 

Severus managed to resist the urge to smile at the sight, and made a mental note never to do anything to cause that reaction again.  Or at least not until after the boy's voice changed.  He had forgotten how shrieky pre-pubescent boys could be.

Heaving a sigh, Snape pushed his own covers back and rose from the bed.  He did not feel quite rested, his dreams had been plagued by images of cupboards and little boys.  Some were Potter, others, more disturbingly, were himself.   No, it had not been a restful sleep, at least not for him.  He was however, pleased to see that the boy looked relatively rested.  No alarms wards had gone off in the night, and he had not been woken by tears or screams, so despite his own unease, Snape felt mildly successful.

Clearly, however, Harry could not sleep on a cot in his bedroom every night.  Something else had to be done.  What that was still eluded him.  Plus there was still the matter of the boy's treasures hidden away on the shelf in his closet.  What to say to him?  Should he say anything at all?  No harm was done by keeping his somewhat strange collection there.  Clearly it was important to the child.  And if it had just been the photo album and the guardianship papers -- hell, he could even allow for the empty balm jar, as much as it disquieted him, he might have left well enough alone.  But it was not just those things.  It was the socks and the pants and the crackers that left him reeling.  The implications of such items were disturbing beyond measure.

It had not escaped his notice that the items of clothing were rather massive to be meant for Harry, and they looked quite threadbare as well.  He wondered why he had never noticed this about the boy's wardrobe before.  For a spy, he was dangerously unobservant. 

He needed more information, that much was clear, but faced with the idea of actually speaking to the boy about it, Severus was reluctant.  So he did what he did best when faced with an uncomfortable thought -- he chose to ignore it.  At least for now.  Indeed, at the moment there were other topics they needed to discuss.

Like sleeping arrangements.

Following Harry into the kitchen he put the kettle on for tea and began sifting through the larder for something appropriate for breakfast.   At Harry's protest that he could help, that he could cook (of this Severus had no doubt, knowing of his past), the teacher allowed him to deal with the tea, and tried not to wince when too much sugar was added to his cup. Who knew that "teaspoon" as a unit of measure was so very subjective?

As the food was left to cook, he took a seat and began. "I let you sleep in my room last night for a reason -- would you care to wager a guess as to what that was?"

"Because of my nightmares?"

"Yes and no.  It had more to do with your sleeping patterns in general.  Or lack thereof.  We never finished discussing your night time wanderings, and I feel it is important that we do so. Do you think you can do that?"

Harry frowned into his cup and sighed. "I'm not that easily freaked out you know."

"I did not intend to imply that you were. However, the fact remains that when we first discussed it yesterday, at this very breakfast table, you did get rather . . . upset. I would not like to repeat that experience."

With a blush, Harry muttered, "Me neither." After a moment he looked up and said "I can deal. I'll try not to lose it this time."

"Would you care to tell me why you "freaked out" in the first place?"

A shrug was the only response Snape received, and so he pressed on.   "Were you frightened?  Did you think that I would do something to you?"

"Like what?"

Clearly Potter wasn't going to make this conversation easy for him.

"Well, I have no belts, so it couldn't have been that, but I wonder if perhaps you thought you would be physically punished for getting up at night."

"I know you wouldn't do that."

"I am not sure that you do.  You seemed to get lost for a moment, and said something that made me think that perhaps you thought you were back at the Dursley's."

"What did I say?  I don't remember saying anything weird."

"Does the word cupboard mean anything to you?"

The boy froze, colour draining from his face.  "I talked about a cupboard?" he managed to choke out.

"You did."

"Well I didn't mean to."

"I'm sure you didn't.  However, even bringing up now seems to bother you, so perhaps we can get back to the matter at hand.  I brought you to my room last night because I thought you needed a real night's sleep.  But we cannot continue that way indefinitely, as I'm sure you understand."

"Yes.  I'm sorry for making you do that."

"You did not make me do anything.  At the time you were asleep."

"Still..."

But Severus cut off his excuses.  "You need to sleep in your own room Harry.  Not on a cot in mine, and certainly not in the hallway.  I will not leave you in the middle of the night."  And then, knowing Harry's penchant to only hear what was left unsaid, he added, "I will not leave you in the middle of the day, either.  I will not leave you.  At least not in any way that you seem to be worried about.  There will be times I will need to . . . go away," here he grimaced at his own sentimentality, “but I will return, as long as it is in my power to do so.”

“I know, I believe you.”

Severus snorted.  Constant denial was aggravating, but he understood that the child was not about to admit to any emotional vulnerability.  Perhaps there was some Slytherin in there after all.

“Not yet.  But you will.”  And with the first of several uncomfortable topics sufficiently closed, he turned his attention back to the bacon.

"No way! Totally no way.”

“You are being ridiculous! It’s a simple device meant to --”

“It’s a baby monitor! I’m not a baby!”

“You are certainly acting like one right now!”

Harry’s jaw dropped. Clearly he’d gotten too comfortable with the man, because that jab had hurt. And he didn’t allow himself to be hurt. Come on Harry, you’re better than that, he tried to tell himself in the seconds after Snape’s comment.

“Don’t do that,” his teacher’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“Do what?” he couldn’t help but ask. Curiosity could be a friend and an enemy that much was clear.

“Close yourself off. I do have some experience with the process you realize.” And just like that, Harry’s hurt flared back to life. He felt his face twist into a pout without his permission.

“You’re mean! I’m not acting like a baby!”

“No, not at all. Currently you are a paragon of maturity,” came the reply. And before Harry could stop him, Snape reached across and poked at his protruding lower lip in emphasis.

Defeated, all he could do was cross his arms and flop onto his bed to emphasize his unhappiness. “Yeah, well, it’s still a stupid baby monitor...”

“If you would just deign to listen to me for a moment you would learn very quickly that it is *not* a baby monitor, you stubborn child. I would liken it more to a walkie-talkie toy.”

Snape knew what a walkie-talkie was? Nonetheless...

“You don’t need to listen in on me. I – I promise I won’t get out of bed again.”

“You continue to miss the point.” Harry wanted to argue again, but felt bad at how exasperated the man sounded. Perhaps he should give him a chance to talk.

“You are allowed to get out of bed. You are not a prisoner in your own room. But I think we both know the reason you’ve been getting out of bed thus far is not the healthiest.”

“I’ve stayed in here two nights already and didn’t leave!”

“Yes, that’s true, and I do appreciate the effort that must have been for you. However you did not sleep a wink either night, did you?”

“How did you know--”

“If you do not realize that I have my own ways of ensuring I am aware of your location and well being, you are more naive than I feared.

Harry bit his tongue for what felt like the fiftieth time during the conversation. Sure enough, he was rewarded.

“This device works both ways, Harry. But even so, I am not giving it to you so I can monitor you. I’m giving it to you so you can hear into my chambers. So you will know that I have not gone anywhere in the night. I am giving it to you in the hopes that someday soon you will know that I am not going anywhere.”

Oh. Well now he had to bite his tongue for entirely different reasons.

“I really must wonder what those retched relatives of yours did to you. And I have been negligent in my own care of you by not attempting to find out. So tell me, Harry, did your Aunt and Uncle often go off and leave you alone in the middle of the night?”

Uh oh. Questions. Questions never went anywhere good. But he was also never very good at keeping things from Snape. Not when the man really and truly wanted to know. And right now he looked like he really truly wanted to know.

Harry sighed, feeling like he was about to walk the plank on a pirate ship. There was nothing to be done; he just had to take the plunge.

“No, no they never did that, at least not as far as I can tell. But I was really scared about it. I mean, it’s just that, in my room at night...” Heat rose to his cheeks and he felt himself getting angry. Why did Snape have to ask so many questions anyway? Why did it matter WHY he was worried, shouldn’t it be enough just that he was?

He didn't want to explain. He didn't want to talk about those nights in his cupboard. He didn't want to talk about the Dursleys at all. All he wanted to do was run from the room and hide until Snape was done with all his questions and poking about where he had no business.

Anger rose in him with a speed that was frightening. Harry found himself standing and stomping his feet and shouting, "They locked me in every night okay! It was dark and I couldn't get out. I had no idea if they were even there." After such an outburst he was quick to lose his steam. Now the anger was gone he was left only with empty embarrassment. Once again he had proven to his guardian that he was too much trouble, too volitile. "I don't even know if I wanted them to be there really. But they locked me in, and what would I have done if they had left. No food or anything...But I guess I was just being silly. Like I said, they never did it."

"That doesn't undermine your very real fears. From what I understand of your relatives, it might not have been beyond them. You had every right to be afraid."

"Ron wouldn't have been. Hermione would have been logical about it and known it wasn't going to happen. I bet you wouldn't have been afraid."

"It's impossible to say, as I was never locked in a room overnight on a regular basis. But I can tell you that I certainly had fears of my own when I was the same age as you are now. It is a perfectly reasonable response."

"You were afraid of stuff when you were my age? I don't believe it!"

"Everyone has their fears Harry. Even now, I carry fears and worries. As does Dumbledore, and your friends. You are not the only one."

“Yeah well, at least theirs don’t mean they need a baby mon--”

“I TOLD you, it’s NOT--”

“I know, I know. And sure, maybe everyone has their own fears, but why do mine have to be so stupid?”

“I don’t think your fears are stupid. And as long as we’re making comparisons to other people, I shall say only this: spiders.”

Harry grinned down into his lap. He shouldn’t laugh at his friend’s expense, but it was a good point. From the corner of his eye he could see the small speaker set that Snape had brought into his room. Without looking up, he reached out and took the nearest one into his palm.

It was purple. He liked that.

“So it’ll let me hear you?”

“Yes.”

“So you can talk into yours and I’ll hear it?”

“Yes.”

“And can I talk to you?”

“Yes, like I told you, it works in both directions.”

“I mean, may I talk to you.”

Harry felt proud of himself. Snape looked shocked, at least for a moment. Then his face seemed to soften marginally and he said, “You may speak to me whenever you need to. You don’t need to do so through the speakers, you can come to me.”

“Oh. I know that. Thank you.” He received no real response, however. All he got was that weird hum Snape did through his lips. Kind of like ‘Hmmm’, but not quite. Harry suspected there was a lot more than ‘Hmmm’ going on in the man’s brain, but who was he to press for sharing?

“You will accept the speakers then?”

“Yeah. I mean, I do get it. That you’re trying to make sure I’m not scared.”

“Indeed. Now I do believe it is time for your bath.”

Harry wanted to hug the man, but couldn’t seem to cross the distance between them to do so. Instead he tightened his grip on the speaker brought it a little closer to his chest. After a moment the professor reached over and set it down on the nightstand.

“Go on now Harry.”

And so he did.

HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS

A baby monitor. Severus had to snort at the very accusation. The boy was quicker than he gave him credit for, certainly. Still, his objective had been accomplished; the speaker set would be ensconced within Harry’s bedroom. Now they would both get a good night’s sleep, and gods willing the child would never find out that the object was, in fact, a baby monitor with a few magical adjustments. Yes, that piece of information was better taken to his grave.

Still, Severus was fairly proud of the cunning he had used to get the boy to accept it. For a child with as many issues as Harry, he certainly was incredibly reluctant to accept any sort of help. Almost as bad as I am, he couldn’t help but think.

But, he had succeeded, and it was a step in the right direction, anyway. Now on to step two. Sleeping patterns were on their way to being addressed, now he had to do something about Harry’s wardrobe.

Sparing a quick glance at the closed bathroom door, Snape made sure to note that the water was running before he moved to Harry’s trunk. The underpants he had spotted in the cupboard the night of Dumbledore’s visit had made him wonder about the rest of the child’s wardrobe, and over the last several days it had become obvious that Harry’s clothes were in despicable condition. A grass stain here or there he could understand, a tear in the knee or elbow even, normal for a boy of that age. But what he had seen over the course of the last several days was very much not normal.

Key distinction being the clothes that he had seen. If the clothes that Harry was willing to wear in front of him were that run down, what was he hiding away?

He had to find out, and there was no time like the present.

By the time he had made piles for trousers, shirts, jumpers and indistinguishable rags, he was seething. How could they? The clothes laid out in front of him would have been scorned by Oliver Twist. They were overly large, torn, grey and stained. He was currently looking over a pair of trousers with a tear up the inseam. For a change, this seemed to have been mended, or an attempt had been made at the very least.

He turned the leg of the trousers inside out to examine the stitching more closely, and his breath caught at the sight of it. It was plain as day, messy, unpracticed sewing in bright orange thread. Severus’ breath caught in his throat. Oh Harry.

“I didn’t want no one to see – I mean, I had to wear them to school and the tear was--”

He hadn’t expected the boy out of the bath yet. He struggled to clear his throat and his head.

“Modesty is a good virtue to possess, child. You did a valiant job with this.”

“No I didn’t. It’s no good. It kept re-tearing and I didn’t have enough thread.”

He looked so small, standing there water dripping down his face from his still wet hair. Severus found himself uncharacteristically hurting for the boy. Before he could lose himself in it, however, Harry saved him.

“Why are you looking at my clothes, anyway?”

“It has occurred to me over the last several days that the ones you have are less than ideal. I wanted to see what needs to be replaced.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m okay.”

“Mmmm. I’m sure you believe that to be true. But I would be incredibly negligent if I let you keep wearing these rags. You deserve proper clothes, Harry. Clothes that fit, and aren’t torn and dirty. So if you don’t mind, I will continue on with my efforts to catalogue what you need.”

“No, stop!” Harry cried out as Severus turned back towards the trunk. “You can’t go in there.”

“Why ever not? I told you Harry, I need to see what else you need.”

“I don’t need anything else. Please!”

“Breathe! Why are you so upset?”

“Because the rest of the stuff is personal. I don’t want you to see it.”

“The rest of the – your underclothes?”

“Yes! God! And teachers aren’t supposed to see your underwear!”

The boy’s statement, rife with panic and embarrassment, sent a chill down Snape’s spine. He dropped the lid of the trunk closed and stepped closer to his charge. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. But he was unable to deny that the boy was vulnerable, and after the attack by the Ravenclaw boys...He dropped to his knees and gripped Harry’s shoulders.

“You’re right Harry, teachers aren’t supposed to see your underclothes. Have any teachers seen yours?”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? No, no one’s seen them. Why would they?”

Relief overwhelmed him, so much so that he almost laughed. Instead he settled for pulling the boy to his chest and folding him into an embrace. Thank god.

“I will just assume you need everything replaced, all right?” He whispered.

He felt Harry nod against him as he wrapped his arms around Snape’s neck. He was well versed enough in Harry’s silent signals at this point to know what this meant. The boy had reached the end of his tether.

Grateful that his ward was small for his age, Severus stood. He was halfway to the bed when Harry whispered in return.

“They’re awful Daddy. I don’t want you to see. It’s too embarrassing.”

Ah. Yes, definitely at the end of his emotional rope.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed of, lad. Your muggle relations are the ones that should be embarrassed.”

And someday they would be.

Hello Harry!

How are you? How has your summer been? Sorry I haven’t written sooner – Hermione said we should give you time to “adjust to your new situation”. Personally I think she’s gone round the bend a bit – I mean, you have been with Snape since before Christmas! But she threatened to tell Mum that I wouldn’t give you “some space to breathe”, so I waited. Every man for himself, right mate? Anyway, hope things are cool where you are. What’s it like, anyway? Does Snape live in a cave? I guess it can’t be too bad though, his rooms at Hogwarts sounded decent enough.

So when are you able to come for a visit? A sleepover would be wicked!

Let me know,

Ron

Harry grinned down at the parchment. His first letter from his friends! He was wondering when they would write; it was impossible to guess how long mail by owl actually took, now that he thought about it.

As excited as he was to receive the letter, he had to admit that he was quietly grateful to Hermione. While what Ron said was true, he had been staying at Snape’s since before Christmas, it still wasn’t the same. That had been part time, like visiting. He wondered if that’s what the kids back in Primary with divorced parents felt like.

Taking the letter from his friend, Harry put on his slippers and robe and ran into the kitchen where he knew Snape would be having his morning tea.

"Sir! Sir! I got a letter from Ron!"

"How very thrilling Mr. Potter."

"It really is!" he agreed, too excited to sense the sarcasm in the older man's voice. More quietly he added, "I've never had a letter like this before."

That seemed to surprise his guardian, who glanced up at Harry with raised eyebrows. "Surely you must have received letters at Hogwarts during the past year. The wizarding public is known for its tendencies towards fawning worship after all."

"Oh. Well yeah, but it's not the same. None of those letters were from friends."

"I suppose that would be true, as all of your friends were at school with you. However, surely Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger had indicated that they would write to you when the year ended."

"Oh. Well sure. I just didn't know if they really would."

"Well, it would seem that they were as honest and loyal as a pair of Hufflepuffs, no surprise there. The polite thing to do Harry, is to send a letter back to your friend with minimal delay. Does he have an owl waiting in your room?"

"No, Hedwig brought it. I was wondering where she'd gotten to. How did she know to go to the Burrow to collect a letter in the first place?"

"You must be the lucky companion of one of the smarter owls about. The truth is, she wouldn't have known, per se, rather she was just being diligent, checking on your friends to see if they had anything for you. Have you ever lent her to Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger to use to write to their parents?"

"Yeah. I mean, neither of them have owls, right?"

Gryffindor logic at its best, to be sure.

“Well, there you have your explanation. I suggest you may want to send a letter back today.”

“I will, but I have to ask you a question first before I can. Ron wants to know if I’ll come for a visit. He suggested a sleepover! Can I?”

For a brief moment Severus couldn’t help but feel a stab of irrational jealousy towards the boy. Even if his only childhood friend hadn’t been a girl, sleepovers would never have been in the cards. His parents would never have allowed him to sleep away from home (“It’s undignified. You’ll stay here where you belong.” Hogwart’s of course, being the exception), and he certainly would never have invited anyone into his own house, given the state of his family. Even now he shuddered at the very idea.

“I must speak with Molly Weasley before I decide.”

“But Ron said she said it was okay!” Harry knew he was whinging, but he couldn’t keep it out of his voice.

“I‘m sure he did, and I’m sure she did. I would still prefer to discuss the particulars with her in person rather than via owls and children.”

“But I really want to go! I’ve never slept at a friend’s house before.” He decided to ignore the slightly annoying pitch of his own voice. Instead he added for good measure, “I’ve never had a friend before…”

His guardian just frowned at him thoughtfully, before saying “That’s enough Harry. I have not said no, I simply stated that I needed to discuss the idea with Mr. Weasley’s parents.”

“But I don’t understand.” Harry said, without even a hint of a whine this time. “What’s to discuss? You say ‘yes’, I go, I sleep, I come home. The end.”

“I assure you that it’s significantly more involved than that. I must know drop off and pick up times, ensure that an adult will be present at all times, inquire whether there is anything you are to bring, and so on…”

“Oh. I didn’t realize everyone did all that for a sleep over.”

“Not everyone does.” But I do was left unsaid, but Harry understood. This was the man’s way of looking out for him.

“Thanks.”

“Do not thank me yet, I haven’t said ‘yes’ either.” And with that final word, Severus tried desperately to ignore the cheeky grin that Harry shot him from across the table.

He waited several hours before floo-calling the Burrow, snatching an opportune moment as the boy was napping in his room. “Weasley Residence!”

It took several moments before his call was noticed amidst the hubbub of the Burrow, but once it was, Molly Weasley’s surprised response came through loud and clear.

“Professor Snape! How surprising to hear from you. I trust your holidays are going well?”

“They are satisfactory, thank you for asking. I am calling to follow up on a letter your youngest son has recently written to Mr. Potter.”

“Oh dear, I do hope our Ron hasn’t written anything to offend you or Harry?”

“No, nothing of that nature. He did, however, extend an invitation to Mr. Potter to spend the night at your home. You were aware of the invitation I hope?”

“Of course! We’d be delighted to have Harry come stay for a night or two.”

“I’d like to discuss it with you. Would you mind stepping through?”

“Certainly, just give me a moment to finish up a few things and I’ll be right there.”

Good as her word, Mrs. Weasley stepped out of the fire place less than five minutes later, without a speck of dirt on her. Severus was impressed. He did not show it.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice. I wanted to speak to you about your invitation to Harry.”

“I did get that much, yes.” Snape appreciated the sarcasm, if not the warm smile that accompanied the words.

“Harry would like to accept your invitation, but before we do, I have some concerns.”

“Of course. I will address them all if I can.”

“First, I assume that you or Arthur will be present the entire time?”

“Yes, we will.”

“Shall I drop him off early, or do you prefer after dinner?”

“Early is fine, it’ll give the boys more time together.”

“Does he need to bring anything? A sleeping bag perhaps?”

“Not at all, I’ll just add a cot to Ronald’s room.”

“If you agree, I shall drop him off in two days time, after breakfast.”

“That sounds perfectly fine. If that’s all...?”

“It is not, I’m afraid. More important than all that, there are things you need to know. I realize perhaps you believe me to be overreacting to a simple visit between the boys, however Harry is...fragile.”

Molly’s face took on a deeper look of concern. “How *is* Harry, Severus? Ron has told us about the attack by those other boys, and that he had come to stay with you, but we know little else.”

“As it should be, if I may say so. Everyone in the wizarding world has their eye on the Boy Who Lived, and his privacy must be guarded. What you have heard regarding the attack is true. About Potter’s living conditions, I will say only this. He had to be removed from the care of his relatives for his own well-being. I’m sure you can extrapolate from there.”

Severus allowed a moment for his words to sink in. He knew they had when Molly’s only reply was a very grim sounding “I see.”

“He would not be pleased that you know, nor that I referred to him in such a way, but there are realities here that may in fact come into play if he spends the night. He has nightmares. Brutal ones. I have made some progress with him in this regard, and he’s become used to talking to me about them after he wakes. However when we first – grew in acquaintance – he would be very agitated and fearful after a bad dream. Anxious enough to apologize for fear of a reprimand for waking me. He has had night time accidents on occasion as a result of his fears. This is very rare, and has not happened in several months, but I can not account for how he will be at the Burrow.

This is his first real time away from his new circumstances, and as he is prone to reminding me, his first sleepover. Suffice it to say that you should be prepared for anything. He may revel in being away from the Greasy Git of the Dungeons -- ”

“Now, Severus, I hardly think that he -- ”

“OR, he may become wildly anxious at separation and descend into a fearful, dissociative state. At which point I expect you to call me.”

“Well of course!”

“I trust that I have made the situation clear to you?”

“You were never one for mincing words, and that has not changed.”

“I would understand if you would like to rescind your invitation.”

“I would never. Harry needs all the support he can get, and frankly the sooner he has an opportunity to experience something normal and average for a child his age, the sooner he’ll adjust. It’s best not to throw him in over his head, though. We should leave it to just one night for the moment I’d say.”

“Agreed. In two days time then, if you are amenable.”

“In two days then. We look forward to it. And you have nothing to worry about Professor, I have seven children after all. Harry will be in good hands.”

Severus felt himself stiffen automatically at the charge. “I am not worried, I am merely being thorough.”

“Oh please, who do you think you’re fooling?”

And with a laugh, Molly Weasley went back through the floo, leaving Snape to grimace at her back through the flames.

Two days later, Severus and Harry sat at the kitchen table contemplating their respective breakfasts in silence. For all his excitement at seeing Ron and spending the night at the Burrow, now that the event was upon him, Harry was feeling guilty. Here he was, not even a month into his first summer holidays with the professor and he was abandoning­ the man.

He knew Severus didn’t have many friends; most of the time it didn’t enter his thoughts. He liked having him to himself, to be honest, despite how childish that sounded. But now the reality of Snape’s social life, or apparent lack thereof, came crashing down on the boy’s shoulders.

“Are you gonna be okay here without me?” he finally asked, looking squarely at his eggs and not at his guardian.

Snape lowered his paper and waited for a moment before replying, “I shall endeavour to survive. Somehow.”

Harry had begun to be able to decipher the line (the fine, fine line) in tone between the man’s biting sarcasm and good-natured teasing, and recognized this response as the latter of the two. Here he was concerned for the older wizard and getting mocked for his trouble!

“I’m completely serious!”

“I recognize that.”

And I recognize that you didn’t really answer me, Harry thought. Snape seemed to contemplate him for a moment before speaking again, only to turn Harry’s question back on him in turn.

“And you? Will you fare all right at the Weasley’s?” Well. Two could play at that game couldn’t they?

“I shall endeavour to survive. Somehow.” He replied with a smirk. For a brief second he worried that he had stepped over the line, but then the potions master gave a genuine laugh and Harry felt inordinately pleased with himself.

“We’ll be flooing over to the Burrow shortly. Have you packed your things?”

“Yes.”

“Then go wash up and meet me in the sitting room with your bag once you’re done.”

As Harry ran from the room he thought he heard Snape chuckling again.

“Quite the pair, you and I.”

*****

“When I said pack, this isn’t quite what I meant.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“I spent a good deal of time mending, transfiguring and shrinking both your wardrobe and my own in an effort to ensure you have passable clothing until we can get to Diagon Alley. At the very least you can attempt to fold them and place them in the bag.”

“That’s what I did!”

“Hardly. Balled them up and shoved them in is a more accurate description.” He could see the boy scowling out of the corner of his eye. Probably annoyed at the indignity of having his bag checked before leaving. And it’s a good thing he had decided to check after all.

“You are missing your pyjama bottoms, your toothbrush and a clean pair of pants for tomorrow.”

“I packed all those things!”

“Really? Care to pick them out of this pile for me?”

He was still smirking 5 minutes later when Harry returned from his room with the items in question. He had folded and repacked the overnight bag in the meantime, and watched as his charge did the same with the remainder, and soon they were ready to depart.

“Do you know what flooing is? Has anyone explained it to you before?”

“Not really.”

“Simply put, it is travel via fireplace, with different fireplaces throughout the wizarding world being connected via a network. One simply steps into the fireplace, tosses this floo powder -- ” here he deposited a small amount in Harry’s hand “and speaks their destination. In this case the Burrow. Be sure to say it clearly, lest you fall out the wrong fireplace at the other end. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but I have a question. What I step in and call out the Burrow and they’re using their fireplace on the other end. Won’t I get burnt up?”

“There are flames of a sort, but they are purely magical in nature and assist in travel. You will not be harmed, not by fire at least. It does tend to take a bit of practice, so do not be alarmed if you stumble upon reaching the Burrow.”

“Wizards really need to find safer ways of travelling.”

“Mmmmm. Unlike, say, long metal tubes hurtling at top speed thousands of feet in the air?”

“Point taken, but I’ve never been in one of those before either. What’s wrong with walking? Or with a broom, for that matter?”

“I do believe you’d find the time of your visit had elapsed in your attempt to get there.”

Harry only grunted and peered down at the increasingly sweat-soaked powder in his hand. “Do I go first or do you?”

“You. I prefer to arrive and see you made it through as opposed to waiting.” And worrying was left unsaid but not unheard, as so many of their conversations seemed to go these days. He watched as his ward peered at the fireplace with apprehension but still managed to take a deep breath and steel himself for the task. He couldn’t help but feel a flash of pride at Harry’s pluck.

Trying to ignore the fact that he had just felt proud of such a quintessential Gryffindor trait, Severus walked over to the mantle and took down a pouch that had been laying there.

“There is one more thing before you go. Pack this in your things. It is extra Floo powder. You should not need it,” he emphasized, “as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be happy to supply some of their own should you need to call or come home. But if for some reason, some strange emergency you need to reach me the Weasleys cannot assist you, this is for you to use.”

He hoped there would be no questions about what kind of situation might exist where the Weasleys would be of no assistance. There was no need to plant new anxieties in the boy after all. But he needn’t have worried about that, since Harry was too occupied with staring at the pouch with an expression that Severus found disconcerting.

Gritting his teeth he decided to add, “You do recall our discussion about the healing balm I gave you? The same principle applies here.”

The memory hung in the air between them, Harry’s belief that such a simple medical tool was a gift, and Snape’s frustrated final understanding of just what the child had been denied.

Harry nodded, but the way he looked up and said “Thank you, sir.” made it clear that he was still having difficulty with the idea of what he deserved, what he should expect.

One day. Severus vowed. One day he will know and truly understand that care and attention are not gifts.

Out loud he only repeated the directive that the powder was for emergencies only, and stood back to watch as Harry Potter experience Floo Travel for the first time.

******

He’s barely had time to shout “The Burrow!” before Harry found himself stumbling headfirst out of the fireplace. Throwing out his hands to brace himself for a rough landing, he was rather shocked to land on a very soft surface.

Peeling his eyes open he found himself face to face with several cushions. “What the--?”

“Harry!”

“Welcome!”

“Did you have -- ”

“A nice trip?”

The twins. Of course.

“Hi guys.”

“That’s all we get?”

“Not even a ‘Thank you’?”

“After all, we were only -- ”

“Thinking of you, Harry dear.”

“Sure, yeah, thanks. But you better move all this before Snape...”

Too late. That was the moment the professor stepped through the floo, stepped rather gracefully, Harry noted with a scowl.

A scowl that matched Snape’s own as he took in the scene before him.

“I see the visit has gotten off to its most predictable start.”

“Now Professor!”

“We thought you of anyone--”

“Would appreciate our landing pad.”

“We wouldn’t way young Harry here--”

“To get hurt coming out of the fireplace.”

“Hmmm. Foresight. I’m surprised. Though I suppose between the two of you there ought to be enough common sense for one person.”

And with that, he swept out of the room.

“Hey Fred! We got a compliment!”

“From Snape!”

Harry rolled his eyes, but refrained from saying anything. In the end, they were right. That was as close to a compliment as you got from Snape.

“Where’s Ron?”

“Right here mate!” came a voice from the kitchen doorway. Harry greeted his best friend with a wide grin, and couldn’t help but feel pleased when an equally wide grin greeted him in return.

­­­­

“You’re finally here! It’s gonna be great, we’re gonna have a blast! Wanna see my room?”

“Sure!”

Severus watched as the two boys ran for the narrow stairs that led up to the upper floors of the Weasley home.

“I fear we’ve just set loose a storm in a very contained area.” He remarked to the elder Weasley’s.

“Oh, one more set of running feet and hollering lungs will barely go noticed around here. Can you stay for a cup of tea?”

“I suppose one won’t do any harm, besides potentially over caffeinate me.”

“An over caffeinated Severus Snape. That’s a thing of nightmares,” Arthur joked.

Taking the cup profferred by Molly he could only respond, “As it should be.”

************

One cup of tea soon turned into two, and a discussion of how Severus and Harry were faring thus far. They were interrupted briefly by Harry and the four youngest Weasley’s trampling through the room, shouting that they were headed outside to play a pickup game of Quidditch. Molly and Arthur barely turned their heads at pronouncement, but Severus attention was demanded by the insistent tug on his sleeve. Harry didn’t say anything, but Severus could see the question nonetheless.

“Go, go on with your friends.”

Twenty minutes later Snape had to deny a third cup of tea as well as resist the urge to go to the window to check on the boy.

The window, after all, was currently being used by the matriarch of the family.

“HARRY! The professor is leaving come say goodbye!”

“Be right there! Just gotta finish this round!”

“There is no need to interrupt their game. I have a time sensitive potion that I must get back to. I will be back tomorrow before lunch to pick him up. Thank you again for having Harry.”

“He is always welcome.”

He had gathered the floo powder in his hand when he heard his voice.

“Wait, sir! Please wait!”

Turning, he was surprised to see the slightly frantic look on Harry’s face.

“Sir! Don’t leave!”

“Harry, I believe that was the idea behind all this...”

“No, I mean, you can’t go without saying goodbye.”

“Ah well, you did appear to be enjoying---” Right then Harry threw himself at the man, wrapping his arms around Severus’ waist and squeezing more tightly than his guardian would have expected him capable of. “--- your game.”

“I’ll miss you!”

He detached the arms that will still clutching his robe and gave Harry’s shoulders a quick squeeze. “It is a mere twenty-four hours.”

Yes, he told himself as he stepped into the floo, it was only twenty-four hours, after all.

By the time everyone at the Burrow sat down to lunch, Harry was starting to become just a little bit overwhelmed. There was just so very much to take in.  5 kids, two adults, random animals, moving kitchen implements, a ghoul in the attic…just thinking about it all made him lose his breath. 

And the food!  Over the months at Hogwarts and with the professor he had certainly grown stronger and always had his fill, but this was like nothing Harry had ever seen.  It was like the opening feast had appeared in full on the Weasley’s dining table.  However it was clear as he watched Mrs. Weasley piled lunch onto his plate that she believed he had not grown big enough yet.

Nerves overtook him.  There was no way he was going to be able to eat all this, but to leave any on his plate would be impolite.  But if he ate it all he would surely be sick, and then the twins would make fun of him, and Mr or Mrs Weasley would have to clean up the mess, and they’d probably make him go home and then Ron would be mad at him and…

Just then Mr. Weasley leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t worry lad.  Molly just assumes that all children eat like our lot.  If you can’t finish, I promise it won’t to waste,” he gave a pointed look around the table at his children.  “Just do your best.”

Harry gave the older man a grateful smile and dug into his meal.  Only Molly noticed him tuck some crackers into his napkin.

**********

A pickup game of quidditch was suggested shortly after lunch, to Harry’s surprise and confusion. 

“Quidditch?”

“Yeah, mate, you know.  That game you play where you’re the youngest seeker in a century?”

“You’re a riot you know that?”

“Actually, I do.”

“I just mean, how are we supposed to play Quidditch when there’s only six of us and you need seven on each team?”

“Easy, in fact with you here it’s a perfect set up for three on three.  One Keeper each, me and Percy, one Beater/Chaser combo each – the twins of course – and one seeker each, you and Gin.” 

“Really?  A Beater/Chaser combo?  Isn’t that sort of weird?  Not to mention hard to play.”

“Oh Harry!”

“You have such little faith in us.”

As it turned out, the twins were quite adept at the strangeness of the Beater/Chaser combo.  Perhaps too adept, Harry thought as he ducked another potential blow.  The bludger missed him by mere inches, and he scowled as the twins laughed at him.

“One of you is supposed to be on my team you know!”

“Oy, Harry, you should know by now--”

“We’re a team unto ourselves.”

Harry scowled. That wasn’t fair.  They were supposed to be playing against each other, not him.  “You didn’t actually hit me you know!” He yelled across the yard.

“Not yet, Harry, not *yet*.” FredorGeorge yelled back.

Now that was a challenge, if ever he’d heard one.  Determined to beat whichever one of them wasn’t on his own team, Harry redoubled his efforts in going after the snitch.  Well, he would if he ever spotted it.

As if ordained by Merlin himself, it was in the very next moment he spotted that tiny flash of gold and was on it like Dudley on pudding.  As he snatched it from the air, Harry couldn’t help but grin in satisfaction, and then break into laughter at the hoots and hollers of his friends as they celebrated the win.

Caught up in the excitement, he missed Fred pull up beside Ron and say, “See, I told you we’d distract him, that he’d have fun.”

“Right.  Thanks.  Now we just have to keep it up.”

“Leave it to us, little brother.”

*********

As Severus paced back in forth in his sitting room, he could feel his anger rising.  Not that it had far to go; he’d been irritable all morning, even to his own admission.  He should be brewing.  He should be writing his syllabi for next year’s classes. He should, at the minimum, be writing a list of things he needed to buy for the boy.  And yet, he was not.  He was at the end of his tether, and the reason why only annoyed him further.

Of all things, he was bored.  And more than a little at wits end as to what to do about it.

He had refused to accept that the boy’s presence had made that much of an impact on his life, but when he found himself eating an old, familiar, lunch of bread, cheese and wine as opposed to the fully cooked, balanced meal (sans alcohol) he usually made for the two of them, he couldn’t deny it any longer.

He was accustomed to Harry’s presence, and he didn’t know what to do with himself without it.  He was a solitary man.  He liked it that way!  Or at least he had.

But reality was staring him right in the face, disguised as the remains of his pathetic lunch.  In mere hours of being alone in the house he had reverted back to behaving as if he was a refugee from a Hugo novel.  Les Misérables, indeed.

I am being ridiculous! And with that thought, he vowed to spend the rest of the afternoon being productive.  He was not going to preoccupy himself with Potter and the mischief he was likely getting into at the Weasley’s.

*******

“Just how many sweets did you buy at Honeyduke’s before you left Hogwarts?”

The twins chose to ignore the disapproval in Percy’s voice, which, Harry noted, could still be heard over the smushy sound of the two chunks of fudge currently stuffed into his mouth.  He wondered idly if he could fit the third without choking.  Probably better not to risk it.

“Shut your gob, Percy.” One twin replied around his mouthful of Bertie Botts every flavour beans. 

“Or better yet, stuff it,” came the other, and helpfully supplied a chocolate frog.

Both Harry and Ron exchanged a glance as the Percy unwrapped the treat and, after letting it have a hop of course, popped it into his mouth.

“You’d think he’d know better by now,” Ron whispered.  Harry – his teeth and mouth too full of the sticky, gooey concoction – could only grin and shrug as he sat back and waited for the show to begin.  It didn’t take long.

About 10 seconds after he’d ingested the chocolate, Percy’s eyebrows simply disappeared.  As everyone in the room cracked up in laughter, the realization must have hit the older boy, and he began hollering his demands to know what the twins had done.  With everyone else too out of breath with laughter to respond, Ginny managed to gasp out, “Eyebrows...gone...” between giggles.

Percy’s hands immediately flew to his forehead to feel the bald spots where his eyebrows used to be.

“Three...Two....One...” Ron muttered, and on cue Percy Weasley shrieked,

“You bloody prats!  You’ll pay for this!”

With that declaration Fred and George sprinted from the room, their older brother hot on their heels, and Ron, Harry and Ginny not far behind.

Somewhere about the third time around the Burrow and up and down various sets of stairs, Harry’s stomach began to roll unpleasantly.  He instinctively slowed, hoping that would settle things down, but instead everything he had eaten in last ten hours went anywhere but down.

Clamping his teeth together, Harry swallowed roughly and tried to breathe deeply through his nose.  For a moment he thought he might be okay, but it didn’t take long for his stomach to dissuade him of that idea.

“Ron!  RON!” he hissed through his teeth, praying his friend would hear him.

“What is it, Harry?”

“Loo please....” he tried to say.

“What?”

There was nothing he could do but risk it.

“Loo, pl—”  And suddenly Harry realized what people meant when they said it was like watching yourself from outside your own body.

The moment he’d opened his mouth he sicked up everywhere.  With a split second response time, Harry clamped his hands over his mouth, in an ill-fated attempt to lessen the damage.

Chaos seemed to flare as the Weasley children realized what was wrong, and then die as their mother descended on the group.  Harry, in his mortification, didn’t even realize she was there – didn’t really notice anyone’s presence – until a damp cloth was placed on the back of his neck and a cool hand on his forehead.

“Oh Harry!  Are you not feeling well?  You poor dear.”  She made an attempt to move his hands away, and he could only stiffen further and curl in on himself.

Why is she touching me?!  I’m disgusting.  Oh, god...

But Molly Weasley proved impressively strong, and soon enough she had grasped his wrists and gently, but firmly moved his hands off his mouth.

No. Noooooooooo. This can’t be happening.

“Come now, Harry.  None of that.  Just let it all go and you’ll feel right as rain in a moment.”

He couldn’t look at any of them; the sheer embarrassment, not to mention his suddenly watery eyes, made it impossible.  Mrs Weasley would not let go of his wrists, so there was nothing he could do to stop himself from throwing up all over the carpet while every one stood there staring.

He wanted to disappear.  What he wouldn’t give in the universe for his invisibility cloak right now, but he hadn’t been allowed to bring it with him.  For a brief moment he resented the arrangement he had with Snape.  He wouldn’t have had to ask permission of anyone to bring his cloak if he had been back at the Dursley’s.

Of course, if you were still living with them, his conscience whispered, you wouldn’t be here at the Burrow at all.  You’d be in your cupboard.

Despite the fact that that didn’t seem so bad right at the moment, Harry was ashamed at his own angry tornado of thoughts.  One shameful thought led to the next, which then made him ashamed of himself, which made him angry again…no wonder the Professor found him so exasperating.

A voice broke into his self recrimination -- “All better then?”

Oh.  He’d stopped throwing up and hadn’t even noticed.

“I’m sorry, oh my god, I can’t believe --- I’m so sorry Mrs. Weasley, I can clean it up I promise.  It’ll be better than new, swear it…”

Mrs. Weasley laughed abruptly and sincerely, causing Harry to stare at her in shock.  What on earth was so funny?

“Harry, love, this is one of those moments where magic is very useful.”  And with a wave of her wand the entire mess was gone and it was if it had never happened.

As Mrs. Weasley laid the back of her hand against Harry’s forehead once more, he automatically pulled back out of her reach. 

“Sorry.  Sorry.  Wasn’t expectin’ that,” was all he managed to mumble.

Reaching out to touch him once again, albeit more slowly Harry noted, she regarded him with measuring eyes.  “Well, you don’t have a fever, but you are rather flushed. Perhaps we should call Severus, hmmm?”

“What, no!”

That would be Ron then, Harry realised.  And sure enough, his friend came bounding forward, gripping his mother's arm and shaking his head.

"Mum, we can't!  We don't need to call professor Snape!"

"Ronald, your friend has just been quite sick, and could be ill.  I certainly think informing his guardian is rather important."

"Sure, of course, if he was actually sick.  But he's not!  Even you said he wasn't feverish, please Mum...I don't want Harry to go already, and he hasn't even spent the night yet."

"He may not be feverish, but people don't generally vomit for no reason, my boy."

"Well, nooooo.  Not for no reason precisely..."

Harry watched this exchange silently.  It was a bit like participating in a Quidditch match where he was the quaffle, an idea that didn't make his queasiness lessen.  At the same time, watching Ron wheedle what he wanted out of his mother -- well, pointers were pointers, wherever he could find them. 

Not that his friend was necessarily having all that much success.  In fact, Harry could have timed the moment Mrs. Weasley realized that something else was going on down to the second.  It was right about. . .now.

"What did you children do to him!?  And what, exactly, happened to Percy?" she asked, standing, and looking disturbingly tall in that movement.  His Gryffindor tendencies chose that moment to re-emerge.

"Well, Mrs. Weasley, they didn't really do anything to me, it was more of a, well, um, more of a ...."

"It was a bit of a group effort Mum," one of the twins piped up.

"Cooperation and all that." the other added.

"A group effort?" Molly replied with indignation.  "And what did this 'group effort' entail?"

"Weeeeell, you see, there was some left over sweets from Honeyduke’s and we thought we'd have a bit of a celebration of Harry's first sleep over."

"Sweets!  You mean to tell me this was all caused by sweets?  Of all things..."  She turned to Harry, and he was relieved to note that she seemed more exasperated than angry.  There was still hope she might let Ron invite him back again, he noted to himself.

"Harry, dear, I expect such nonsense out of this lot, but it was really rather unwise of you to go along with it."  He couldn't help but agree, seeing how things had turned out.

"Yes Ma'am.  I'm sorry."

"No harm done, my dear, no harm done.  Now, despite what my Ronald thinks, would you like to call Professor Snape?  I have no doubt he would be here in a jiffy to collect you if need be."

Harry found himself at a loss.  On one side, he felt rather -- not ill to be precise but . . . icky.  The comfort and familiarity of Snape's home would not be an unwelcome end to a rather long day. But on the other side of things, he felt a little silly at even entertaining the prospect.  He was nearly twelve, after all.  And yes, this was his first night away from -- his first sleep away -- the fact remained that nearly twelve year old Gryffindors didn't go home scared and anxious in the middle of visiting a friend.

They just didn't.

And all this of course, didn't even take into account Ron's clear position on the subject.  His friend was looking at him with a mixture of fear, shock, and hope.  Harry just couldn't disappoint the boy who had been his first real friend.

"No, no thank you Mrs. Weasley.  I'm feeling loads better, really.  I'd like to stay.  If that's all right with you?" he remembered to add.

She looked at him rather sceptically, and for a moment Harry was worried that she would make him go home anyway.  However, after appearing to deliberate, she simply sighed, and pulled him towards the nearest door.

"Well, seeing as you're not truly ill, I suppose it won't do any harm to allow you to finish your visit with Ron.  Although I really should reward such foolishness!" she directed rather loudly to her children.   "I imagine you'd like a bath, hmmm?"

"Oh, um, yes please.  But couldn't you just clean me up the same way you did the floor?"

"Oh, yes, I certainly could," she agreed.  Leaning down to whisper in his ear, she whispered "But that wouldn't feel nearly as nice, now would it?"

And with that she entered the loo to fill the tub.

*********

Five potions.  Three bruise balm, two calming draughts.  Not nearly enough, Severus thought, as he began warming up the fires under a batch of five new, empty cauldrons.  One could never have enough healing potions at Hogwarts, after all.  And certainly not with Potter around for the indeterminate future.  No, he definitely needed to brew several more.  And then perhaps a night cap.  It was only half midnight, after all. 

***************

He had no idea what time it was, but Ron had dropped off to sleep what seemed like ages ago, and even the random bumps and whispers from Fred and George's room had stopped.  Harry, however, was very much awake.

Which wasn't to say that he wasn't tired.  He most certainly was.  He even wanted to go to sleep.  But he just couldn't seem to turn off his brain and actually do so.

And so he lay there, trying very hard not to think of the Professor and what he might be doing at that very moment.  Logic told him the man was likely fast asleep.  Probably enjoying the first real full night of sleep he's had, now that I'm not there, he thought mournfully.  He really ought to keep his stupid problems to himself.  Or at least save them until daylight.  Is it possible for someone to quite literally tire of you?

Tossing the blankets aside, he stood, and tiptoed the short distance to the window.  It was nice to look out -- the Weasley's had more space than he could easily comprehend.  At least outside their house.  It made the dark that much darker, though, and his eyes searched impatiently for the light of the moon.

He was staring, vaguely wondering in which direction London lay, which direction was Scotland and Hogwarts?  Which direction was the Professor's house?  Caught deep in these thoughts, he didn't hear the door to Ron's room tick open.

"Harry?" came the whisper.  He couldn't help himself, he jumped a bit, startled, and then embarrassed.  For the first time he was grateful for the darkness of the Burrow at night.

"What are you doing still awake, lad?" Arthur Weasley asked quietly from the door frame.  Whispering, Harry was quickly coming to realize, made it very difficult to suss out the tone of someone's voice.   And tone of voice was rather important when you were caught awake in the middle of the night by your friend's father.

"Couldn't sleep," he whispered back, hoping the man would simply order him back to his makeshift bed and then leave.

"Ah.  Well, come on then, I know just the thing." 

"Pardon?"

"Come on!  Before Ron awakes and wants to join us," Arthur replied with a conspiratorial wink.  Curiosity irrevocably aroused, Harry could only mentally shrug to himself and follow the man down the stairs. 

He watched, confused, as Mr. Weasley pointed him to a chair in the kitchen.  Was he going to get a lecture?

So he waited for the inevitable.  And waited some more.  Harry waited while Arthur turned on the stovetop, and while he pulled out a pot, and while he reached into the cupboard for something Harry couldn’t quite see.

“Molly will kill me for this after what happened earlier, but really, what better cure for insomnia than hot cocoa, hmm?”

Hot cocoa?  He was awake at some indeterminable time of night and the man was making him cocoa?  Harry thought that the Weasleys just might be the coolest family he’d ever meet.

And when Mr. Weasley brought out mini marshmallows, he was thoroughly convinced.  So, it was a bit of a surprise when, after the mug of cocoa was set in front of him, he made a move for the marshmallows only to have them moved out of his reach.

“Uh-uh.  Not so fast.  There’s a deal here.  One thought shared, one marshmallow.”

“What if I don’t take marshmallows in my cocoa?” Harry asked.

“Ah, a cunning one, are you?  You can’t fool me.  Marshmallows make the cocoa, Harry, it cannot be denied.  So. Why do you think you’re having trouble sleeping?”

“New place.  It’s different.” With a plunk, Mr. Weasley dropped a marshmallow in his drink.

“That’s true.  You’ve had a lot of different places to get used to in the last year, I hear.  Did you have trouble at the other places?”

“A bit in the dorm.  And at Professor Snape’s house this summer.”  He got two marshmallows for that.

“And here.”

“Yes.”  No marshmallow yet.  Seemed the man was waiting for more.  “It’s very dark. And weirdly quiet.”

Another marshmallow.  “You may be the first person to describe our home as quiet, my boy.  I imagine your current home is dark and quiet at night too, if I know Professor Snape.”

“But that’s just it,” Harry admitted, talking into his cup. “it is, but Professor Snape is there.”

“You miss him a bit, hmmm?”

He could only nod, struck dumb by a sudden lump in his throat.

“Well, it sounds to me Harry that you’re a wee bit homesick, hmm?”

“I don’t know Mr. Weasley.  I’ve never had a chance to be homesick before.”

“It’s a very normal feeling Harry.  All children feel it the first times they’re away from home.”

“Aren’t I too old?” These days he felt too old for everything he felt.  Sometimes it made him angry.

“No, Harry, you’re not.  And I’ll tell you a secret.” Arthur leaned a little closer.  “All my boys wrote letters home about how homesick they were the first month or so they were at Hogwarts.”

“All of them?  Even Ron?”

“Even Ron. So like I said, totally normal.”

“Is it normal to feel, to wonder. . .”

Mr. Weasley playfully brandished the bag of mini marshmallows, but couldn’t draw a smile out of Harry.  “What is it Harry?”

“What if he doesn’t come back to get me in the morning?”

He couldn’t help it, he leaned into the touch a bit when Mr. Weasley shifted over and rubbed his back.  “Harry, does Professor Snape know you worry about such things?”  He nodded, and grabbed a small handful of marshmallows, which Mr. Weasley was now offering to him straight out of the bag.  “What did he say about it?”

“He said he’d never abandon me, never leave me, not if it was within his own power.”

“Exactly.  I promise you that Severus Snape is a fiercely loyal man.  If he made a promise to you, he will stick by it.  He does not lie.”

Harry fiddled with the spoon in his mug of cocoa.  He wanted to believe, he really did, but...

“And I’ll tell you one more thing, Harry.  A secret just between you and me.  I’ve know Severus a long time, and I’ve never seen him care about anyone like he cares about you.  He may not show it very well, but it’s true.”

“I don’t know,” Harry responded, sucking down the last of what had turned out to be a rather large pile of marshmallows.  “I think he’s pretty good at showing it, actually.”

“Well then why don’t you show him how you feel by trying to trust him, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“There’s a good boy.  Now try to get some sleep, okay?”

***********

Three a.m.  Three a.m. was the perfect time for a nice glass of scotch after a night of brewing.  Hard work deserved a reward after all.

********

Three minutes past ten in the morning. The boy must have finished breakfast by now, and he had told the Weasley’s he would pick Potter up after first meal.  He’d best be on his way.

The bright colours of the Burrow assaulted him as he stepped through the floo.  How anyone could live in such ghastly conditions was beyond him.

“Severus good morning!” Molly Weasley greeted him.

“Greetings Molly, Arthur.”

“How are you this morning?”

“Perfectly adequate, thank you.”

Arthur Weasley lowered his copy of the Daily Prophet and watched him approach with a grin.  “Looks like you had a late night, Severus.  Exactly how many potions did you brew to distract yourself?”

Severus bristled.  “Are you mocking me Weasley?”

“Best get used to it, I’d say.” Molly chimed in.  “If our boys are any indication, you’ll be seeing a lot of us, Professor.”

“Exactly right.  And what’s a number between friends, hmm?”

“I assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Never mind him, Severus.  Sit, have a cup of tea.  The boys are just finishing a game of Quidditch outside.”

He could feel the eyes of Arthur Weasley on him as he accepted the cup and sat at the kitchen table.  With a sip and a sigh, he finally relented.

“Seventeen.  Seventeen potions.”

Both Weasleys smiled knowingly at him.

“Well, Harry missed you too, you should know.”

Ignoring the fact that he had said nothing of the sort about ‘missing’ anyone or anything he chose instead to ask, “And how did Harry do during his visit?”

“Well, there were a few small incidents.  He was a bit ill after over indulging in sweets, but we sorted that out. And he had some trouble sleeping.”

“I’m afraid I rather expected that.  I’m sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused you.”

“Oh have no worries, you did inform us of your concerns after all.   And in the end it wasn’t as bad as all that.  I think he was just a bit homesick.  And a bit insecure.” Arthur looked at him seriously. “He’s afraid that you’re going to leave him in the night.”

With another heavy sigh, Severus set down his cup.  “I’m aware this is an issue for him, and I have been attempting to – ”

Before he could finish his explanations, however, the door burst open and Harry burst through, broom in hand, breathing heavily.  At first he seemed like he was going to make a run at him, but changed his mind, hovering mid-step in the entry way.

“Hi.”

“Are you packed and ready to go?”

“Yes sir, my bag is by the floo.”

“I’ll go through first, you are to follow.” Turning to the Weasley’s with a very slight bow of acknowledgement he added, “Thank you for your hospitality to Harry.”

And with that, he left.  Mere moments later Harry followed him, stumbling out of the floo and almost landing on his knees.  Serevus reached out automatically to steady him.

And if they both held on to each other several moments longer than necessary, well, that was just coincidence.

Lunch had been a rather mild affair.  Sandwiches were simple and not too far out of reach of his rather fatigued mind.  It was a good thing so many potions had been brewed the previous evening, because glory knew he would be of no use brewing anything today.  He cast a glance at Potter, trying not to grimace at the sight of him wolfing down his tuna.  The Weasleys had indicated a slightly difficult evening, but to his admittedly tired eyes the boy looked to be in satisfactory condition.  He had even grinned at the sight of his lunch – who knew tuna salad could inspire such joy?

Currently acceptable condition or no, clearly Harry had been concerned enough to confess his fears to the Weasleys.  Severus couldn’t help but be bothered by this on several levels, but chose to focus on the lingering of these fears of abandonment, rather than nagging voice in the back of his mind that seemed to take pleasure in reminding him of his own inadequacies in the parenting department.

Why else would he so easily confess his fears to Arthur Weasley when he continues to deny them to my face?  When every admittance is a weakness?  Does he continue to fear me? Does he not trust me?

He had thrown the last of his mangled sandwich to his plate with a sigh when a quiet cough came from his side.

“Can I take your plate, sir?”

Well, it had come to this had it?

“One night away and you are back to trying to serve me, Potter?  Back to ‘sir’?” He did not think about the appellation he would rather have heard.

“Well, you’re back to ‘Potter’.”

Severus could not keep from sighing.  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to steady himself.  “Too true.  It would seem we are both out of sorts.  You must excuse me, I had a rather – late night.  I will take care of my own plate and you take care of your own, Harry.”

So, with a rather frustratingly searching look, his ward backed away to take his dishes to the sink.  That’s when Snape noticed the state of his clothing.  The child was a disaster.

“What on earth happened to your clothes?  You look like a little --”

He caught himself just in time, recognizing that one of his mother’s favourite descriptors – ‘You look like a little orphan child!’ – would be inappropriate. Harry, who had been balancing his plate and glass in one hand and hitching up his trousers with the other, turned to look at his guardian and proceeded to drop the dishes with a grand shatter.

“Oops.”

Severus was to his feet with his wand in hand in less than a second.  If he knew this boy at all, he’d be on his knees picking up the glass with his fingers any second now.  “Do not move,” he stated, trying to prevent that vision from happening.

Harry did what he was told, standing stock still as his teacher waved his wand and cleaned the mess up in seconds flat.  As soon as Snape finished he found himself a little short of breath, a little shaky on his feet.  Would his guardian be angry?  So far nothing too scary had happened, but then he hadn’t done anything bad yet either.

But Snape didn’t even seem to notice his stupid mistake.  Instead he reached over and grabbed Harry’s wrist, turning it over somewhat roughly.  

“You don’t appear injured.”

“No, sir.  I mean - no, Professor, I --” This was why he preferred signing to talking.  When he talked, people actually heard the stupidity that came out of his mouth.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to.  Were the dishes valuable?”

“That’s of no concern.  My concern is the condition of your wardrobe.  There was a lot of spell work put into making them last until we could get to Diagon Alley.  Did someone cast a finite at you?”

“No.  It just happened.  I don’t know why.”  He wasn’t sure what the man wanted him to say.  To be honest, he hadn’t really noticed right away that his clothes had changed.  They felt pretty natural this way, after all.  He had just been glad it hadn’t happened while he was on his broom.  The twins’ reactions would have been . . . unpleasant. 

“It would seem your clothes were older and more damaged than the spells could handle.  I can fix this temporarily, but we shall have to go shopping sooner than expected.  Grab of your waistband and tell me when.”

He had to admit, the man had a flair for improving rubbish clothes.  Within seconds things fit better, smelled cleaner and generally looked less inclined to fall to pieces at any given moment.

“Thank you!” he exclaimed.  Severus only rolled his eyes in response.

“Thank me when you have an actual wardrobe of your own.  Tomorrow we shall go to London and remedy this situation.”

“Wow, tomorrow?  We don’t need to rush.  I – I’ll be fine like this for a bit longer,” Harry protested, following the man like a duckling as he swept out of the kitchen.

“I have no doubt whatsoever that you could.  I, however, cannot abide it another minute.  Besides which, if you’re going to have a birthday celebration we cannot have you wearing those – rags.”

Harry would have been embarrassed if he wasn’t completely blown away.  A birthday party?  He couldn’t have heard the man properly – if there was one thing he was confident of it was that Professor Severus Snape did not do birthday parties. 

“Um, I really don’t understand.  A birthday party?”

“Yes.  You may be familiar with the idea. People gather to give you accolades for surviving another year of life.  You are turning twelve soon aren’t you?”

“Yes.  But I think you’re teasing me, and it’s a rather rotten thing to do.”

For what felt like the fiftieth time that day, Severus held back a sigh.  He was amazed at the both the boy’s bravery (although he would have labelled it cheek) and his capacity for emotional hurt.   Not to mention his own tendency to fall for that full-on bottom lip pout that Potter was currently sporting.

Leaning over to poke the offending lip back in place he smirked slightly at his ward. 

"Teasing, yes.  You'd think you'd be used to it by now.  Regardless, the fact remains that we need to take you shopping and we will do so tomorrow.  It would be prudent of you to begin making a list of invitees.  I will look it over before you send out the notices.  And you may wish to think about what you'd like for gifts."

Harry was left staring at the man's back as he retreated to his library.  Invitees?  Birthday *gifts* - plural?  It's not like he had no idea what the whole phenomenon entailed, he'd certainly seen enough of Dudley's birthdays.  But he had never considered what he'd do if presented with a birthday party for himself.  It had never really seemed like a possibility before. 

It took him all day to come up with what he felt was something approximating a list of people he wanted to attend.  With parchment in hand, he went to find Severus.

"Um, sir?"

"Come in, Harry."

"I've got a list of people for my party."

"Well, let's see it then.  I'll need lots of preparation to brace myself for the gaggle of Gryffindors you no doubt intend to have romping through our home."

Harry took a breath and handed the list to his guardian and waited.  Would it be acceptable?  Would Snape be angry or annoyed?  Whatever way the man would react -- a raised eyebrow and a look of disbelief was not what Harry had expected.

"Really Harry?  This is your list?"

"Yes."

"You're certain?" 

"Yes!" Harry was starting to get frustrated. "If there's too many people just say so!"

"I do suggest you watch your tone.  Now let's see...who do we have?  Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger of course.  The rest of the Weasley family.  I'm rather surprised at the fact you did not invite more of your classmates."

Harry flushed.  Well he would have, but....

"How am I supposed to know I could?” He exploded.  “I'm not stupid, no matter what you think!  You didn't tell me how many people I could invite, and there are a lot of Weasley's and I know you don't like people.  I've never had a birthday party before, only seen Dudley's and lord know's nothing her does is normal!"

He didn't even realize he was yelling, let alone practically hyperventilating, until Snape grabbed his shoulders and gave them a hard shake.

"Breathe!  Take a deep breath and stop panicking."

With a blink of surprise, Harry took a long breath.  Oh.  Perhaps he had been panicking a little bit. 

"This is hardly the disaster you think it is.  You're right; I should have told you have many people you could invite.  I do appreciate you trying to keep the guest list short.  But I wouldn't think it out of the ordinary for you to invite the rest of your dorm mates.”

“Even Neville?” Harry asked with a sniffle – not that he had been teary.

“Yes, even Mr. Longbottom.  Are there any other young ladies besides Ms. Granger you would like to invite?”  Harry’s horrified face was enough of an answer to that question.  “All right, apparently not.  Well, have you thought of any gifts you might like?”

Suddenly the hem of his shirt became fascinating.  “Just one.  But I don’t know if it’s too much. I just don’t – it’s like with the list,” he clumsily tried to explain why he was at such a loss.

“Well, why don’t you let me decide whether or not it’s too much?” Somehow he doubted very much that it would be.

“I’d like a new pair of glasses, please.  These ones are really old and Hermione’s already repaired them twice.  It’d be nice to have a pair that fits right.”

“I imagine it would be.  I certainly think a new pair of eyeglasses can be arranged. But I should tell you that I’d rather you thought up another birthday request.  New glasses are similar to the healing balm I once gave you, or new clothes.  You shall have them, but not as a birthday gift.”

“Oh.  Well back to square one then.”

“Yes, it is a hard life to lead, trying to come up with birthday gift ideas.”

“You’re teasing me again.”

“Perhaps.”

SHSHSHSHSSHSHHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Morning seemed to come very early for Severus, and he had to stifle a groan as he turned and caught the time on his nightstand clock. 6:45 a.m.  Far too early.  He shut his eyes and made to turn over and go back to sleep when he heard the distinctive ~click~ and ~rattle~ of his doorknob.

The boy.  Why he needed to develop the sleeping patterns of a toddler when he was excited was anyone’s guess, but Severus knew he couldn’t be ignored for long.

“You’d better at least be wearing your slippers if you insist on waking me at such an hour.”

“I am!” His voice was much closer than Snape has expected, and a moment later there was a slight dip in the bad as Harry say and lifted his feet to the bed.  “See!”

“I would have taken you at your word, you know.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“Hmmmm.”

“Don’t go back to sleep!”

“Why not?”

“We’re going to Diagon Alley!”

"I'm aware of that -- it was my idea after all.  However, trust me when I say that no shops will be open at this time of the morning, so there is no reason for us to be awake yet."

"But this way we can be ready to go as soon as everything does open!"

"Yes, but --"

"And the sooner we get there, the less people there will be to annoy you, and the sooner you'll be back home to your potions and stuff."

"Nicely done."

"Did it work?"

"Just barely.  I will humour you this time, since you put so much effort into trying to manupulate me.  Very Slytherin of you."

"Thanks, I think."

With their early morning banter out of the way, Snape removed himself to shower and change.  He tried not to think of his own foolishness in leaving the boy unattended in his room.  Who knew what he was getting up to?  Had he left anything -- inappropriate -- anywhere in the room?  Well, it was too late to worry now.  Hopefully the worst Harry was getting into was jumping on his bed.

Then again, perhaps jumping on the bed wasn't the worst thing the boy could do, Severus realized as he left his washroom and went to send his ward off to get washed and dressed.  No, falling asleep in his bed had to be worse than jumping on it.  Yes, there was Harry curled up in the middle of the bed, blankets kicked to his feet, looking smaller than usual lost within the large bed.  He clearly hadn't intended to fell asleep - his glasses were still on and while they had agreed he needed a new pair, Severus still didn't think the boy would be so careless with them on purpose.

With a sigh he walked over and plucked the offending eyewear from Harry's face, and gently pulled up the blankets.  By all rights he should wake the boy as had been done to him.  Or at least move him back to his own room.  But there didn't seem much point at this juncture.  No, better for him to catch a few winks now, rather than turn into an overtired, impudent, brat later while they were in public.  Sometimes you had to pick your battles.

SHSHSHSHSHSSHSHHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

So it was an extra energetic Harry that waited for him by the front door several hours later.  The boy had practically inhaled his breakfast whole, ignoring every appeal to stop and chew. 

"Chewing will only slow me down!"

"And choking to death will slow you down permanently. Now at least pretend to have some manners and chew your food please."

He rolled his eyes, but did as he was told.  Perhaps his dad had a point after all.

"We'll be apparating, so I hope you're prepared."

"Is there any way to really do that?  Prepare yourself to apparate? Doesn't it just kind of suck no matter what you do?"

“Just brace yourself.”

Which would turn out to be good advice for the entire outing, in the end.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

He didn’t force the boy into Madam Malkin’s straight away.  He knew that getting measured for new clothes was practically torture for someone of Harry’s age.  No, instead he went straight to an optometrist.  Luckily there was at least one in the Alley that did exams on a walk-in basis, and at this time of the morning there would be no one there ahead of them.

Sure enough, Harry’s script was very out of date, and the optometrist had been horrified to see the state of his current glasses.  Horrified enough to turn an accusing glare and likely a hearty lecture on Severus until Harry had stopped him by assuring the man that his guardian wasn’t the one responsible.  When they walked out almost an hour later with the new pair, Severus was feeling rather guilty, despite his lack of culpability.

The delighted gasp from the child at his side pulled him out of gloom rather quickly, however.

“Everything is so clear!  I can see every single leaf on the trees. Wow!”

His need to examine every part of Diagon Alley that had previously been unclear to him slowed their arrival at the clothing store considerably, but the elder wizard didn’t have the heart to tell the boy not to dawdle.  After all, for all intents and purposes he was seeing the place for the first time.

Eventually they did reach Malkin’s however, and the owner hurriedly ushered the boy on to a stool to be measured.  “What will you be needing today, gentlemen?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Shirts, trousers, trainers, jumpers, pyjamas, pants, socks, and so on.  Everything.  The child needs a new wardrobe, and he needs it all.”

Madame Malkin turned a critical eye on Harry and examined him in a way that made him squirm.  “I don’t imagine you’ll be needing school robes yet – it looks like it’ll be at least a year or two before you’ll be at Hogwarts.”

Severus watched silently as Harry sputtered in disbelief.  Oh, this ought to be interesting.  The boy had a rather delicate temper to say the least.

“What?!  I’m almost twelve!  I’m starting my second year at Hogwarts!”

“Oh my.  I apologize dear, it’s just that you look a little younger than most of the Hogwart’s students that come in here.”

“You measured me for my robes last year when I was starting, you know.”

“Madame Malkin cannot possibly remember every student she serves Harry.  And you are being exceedingly rude.”

“Sorry.” Harry mumbled.  His mood did not improve, however, and it was clear that he was itching to have the measuring over and be gone.  Severus, on the other hand, took his time settling the account and paying; there was no point in rewarding bad behaviour.

As soon as they were out the door Harry burst out with his complaints.  “I can’t believe she thought I was nine!  Nine!  That’s insulting.”

“She did say a year or two.  Maybe she thought you were ten.”

The glare he received made it abundantly clear that his commentary was not helpful. 

“I’m going to look at the owls!” Harry said with a huff, and stomped off.  Or tried to, anyway.  He only made it a few feet before a running bundle of limbs and blonde hair ran straight into the back of his legs, sending both boys tumbling to the ground.  In an instant the offending toddler had burst into tears.

Severus and a tall man reached the boys at the same time.

“Icarus! Are you alright?”  The boy was still sobbing as his father knelt in front of him and began examining him for wounds.

Severus offered Harry a hand up and watched silently as the boy dusted off his hands and knees.  “Great, my new clothes are all ruined!” Snape was a little alarmed to note that his child seemed close to tears as well.

“We can clean and mend them Harry, it is not a tragedy.”

“I should apologize for my son,” the other man said.  “He just got away from me.”

Harry knew he was being unreasonable.  He knew it.  But as he watched the blonde man kiss his son’s  bruised and scratched knees, he grew angrier than he had been in a long time. Before he could stop himself he burst out,

“Well maybe you should have kept a hold on him then!”

The reaction from Snape was instant.  “Mr. Potter!  Apologize for your rudeness at once!”

“Oh, oh. You’re Harry Potter!  I am so sorry for Icarus, he really should watch where he’s going.”

“And perhaps if Harry hadn’t been stomping off in a snit he would have seen the boy coming.  I said apologize for being so rude to this man, Harry.”

“No.”

“Really, it’s okay.  Harry Potter, I mean he doesn’t have to --”

“He most certainly does.” Leaning down he got very close to Harry’s ear and whispered harshly, “You are being ridiculous.  If you don’t apologize now you can forget the rest of the afternoon at Diagon Alley.”

“No! And I’m not going anywhere!”

That was enough.  In an instant Harry found himself grabbed around the waist and flung over Snape’s shoulder, fireman style.

“And now it is my turn to apologize for *my* son. Good day.”

As soon as they arrived home Harry began kicking, much as Severus had expected.

“Let me down!”

“You’re lucky I don’t send you straight to the corner for your behaviour back there!” he replied, as he dropped Harry to his feet. “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing!  I was mad.”

“I could clearly see that.  There was nothing done to you that would make that kind of response acceptable!”

“Maybe it’s what wasn’t done to me!”

“What are you talking about? You expected something from that little boy?”

Harry screamed in frustration.  “NO!  Don’t call him that!  I’m....”

“Old enough to know better!”

“You don’t understand! He got, he – I don’t want to be old enough to know better.  That sucks!”

“I obviously don’t understand because you’re making NO sense!  Just moment before you were so angry that Madam Malkin thought you were younger than you are.  Now you’re angry because people expect you to act your age?”

Before Severus could stop him Harry spun and smashed his hands into the wall in front of him, sobs wracking his body.

“Stop that!  Stop that and talk to me.  Use your words, not your fists.  Merlin, use sign language if you have to, just tell me what is bothering you so much.  I cannot help you if you don’t.”

Harry collapsed against him.  “I can’t.  I can’t tell you.  I don’t even really know.  It was just that boy with his dad and you and me and it made me so mad.”

The boy and him and the father, what...? Oh. Oh.  “I see,” was all he could manage to say.

Taking Harry by the hand he led him into the bathroom and with quick, steady movements picked him up and set him on the counter.  First he wet a flannel and wiped the tears from the child’s face, all the while being watched with wide eyes.  Then he grabbed the rubbing alcohol.

“This may sting a bit,” he warned, as he dabbed at the wounds Harry had inflicted on himself during his attack on the wall. As Harry flinched, he pressed a dry cloth against the area to ease the burn.

“Can you straighten your fingers?  Good, then nothing’s broken.”

As he began repeating the process with Harry’s knees, the boy finally asked “What are you doing?”

“Healing your wounds.”

“Can’t you do that with magic?”

“Yes, but sometimes magic isn’t the cure one really needs.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. I understand.”

“You can’t.  No one can.”

As he applied a plaster to a bruised knee, he replied, “It’s okay to want to be someone’s little boy.  Like young Icarus was today.”

He looked up to find Harry had hidden his face in his hands.  Clearly they were both a little embarrassed to be a part of this conversation.  Nonetheless, it needed to be said.

“We can’t turn back time to give you what you missed.  Not in any real way.  And I don’t know why anyone would want to be my little boy, but it’s perfectly normal to feel the way you do.”

“It’s not fair.” Harry’s voice sounded so sad.

“I know.” So did his own.

Last time on Filling the Void: Harry and Severus took a trip to replenish Harry’s wardrobe and Harry reacted badly to feeling too old and looking to young.

It was hard to cause Severus nightmares. That’s not to say he did not have them; in fact, he had them quite often. It was simply the fact that they were generally composed of the more horrific of the Dark Lord’s acts. Once he’d joined the Death Eaters, he stopped having your standard naked-in-front-of-your-classmates type dreams. Being naked in front of your classmates – even James Potter and those wretched excuses for humanity that called themselves his friends – would have been welcomed in place of a round of cruciatuses.

That was the state of his psyche for well over a decade, and he had grown used to it, if not accepted it. At least it had been until Harry Potter had inserted himself into his life. Severus had no idea when it changed, but somehow his nightmares had become the things of falls from brooms, incendios gone wrong, and now – of a Harry Potter that was too wounded, too emotionally regressed to ever reach his potential, of a hurt boy that never healed because his guardian, the man he called father, didn’t know how to help him.

Severus had taken to drinking a lot of coffee. Thank Merlin for warming charms.

What he made a grand effort not to do is to check on the boy. He was not that kind of man, and certainly not that kind of guardian. At least that's what he tried to tell himself when the urge overcame him. He fought it off successfully often enough -- it certainly didn't count as checking on the boy if all he did was open the bedroom door, did it? No. Checking was the few times he caught himself standing by the side of Harry's bed, watching him sleep.

Yes, his nights had turn into caffeine-laden dramas in which he found himself watching an eleven year old sleep. It would be creepy if it wasn't so soppy.

And that was the post he found himself at this evening; the second time that week. Harry appeared to be sleeping peacefully; it seemed they traded off on their respective bouts of insomnia. That, at least, was a small blessing. The last thing he needed was to wake from a nightmare about a damaged, abused boy in his care to try and comfort the very real boy the dream represented. He didn't think either of them would survive with their dignity intact. Not that he had much left to lose.

But he did have some, he reminded himself, snatching his hand back from where it had almost settled on the boy's brow. When did that habit come along? He could not place it. Harry, for his part, was behaving in the predictable way after their emotional first-aid encounter after Diagon Alley. He was all false bravado and casualness, trying very hard to seem grown up and not in any way needy. It was clearly an act. Snape knew enough about the child and the way his mind worked to spot that from a mile away.

For example, he knew that if he looked under the covers he would find the original stuffed toy from Lukas' bedroom clutched tightly in the boy's hand, hidden, but still there. He knew that if he were to wake the boy from his sleep, he'd get a very frightened ward who would be instantly apologizing to his Uncle Vernon for some imagined offence.

And now his thoughts had come full circle, he knew he should attempt to get some rest. He could not go on like this. If he did, he would end up face down in Harry's birthday cake, and likely snoring.

**********

But perhaps Severus did not know Harry as well as he thought, or perhaps the lack of sleep truly was affecting his ability to think. Because while he stood there watching the boy, Harry was anything but asleep. He had perfected the art of faking it, and he'd had plenty of opportunities to practice.

Harry had always been a fairly light sleeper. You had to be when you never knew when the door to your cupboard was going to be flung open at any moment, and you would be pulled out by your hair. No, there was no way to know when it would happen, but at least he could be prepared for it when it did. When you added nightmares on top of that, well, sleep had never been Harry's friend.

It was because of all this that Harry was awake one of the first times the professor had come into his room in the night. He knew the man had done it before, but he'd never actually fully woken to see what happened. He was very glad he did wake that first time, because Snape had pulled up his covers, re-tucked them in and had even sat by the side of his bed for a few minutes. It took every ounce of willpower Harry had within him not to react.

And the first time his guardian had reached over and brushed the hair off his face, well, Harry thought he deserved some sort of award for not moving. He noticed the man didn't do it this time, that he came close but stopped himself, Harry could feel the heat from his hand, it had been such a near thing. But it did not settle, and that made Harry sadder than he could describe.

But he shouldn't be greedy, he told himself as he lay in his bed and tried to sleep for real. Severus was, well, he was Snape after all. He wasn't going to suddenly become like Ron's Mum. Harry wasn't even sure he would have wanted it if it were to happen. He had a feeling it would be a bit like when he was sick at the Burrow because he wasn't used to that many sweets at one time. He wasn't used to much touching -- not nice touching, anyway -- and kind words had been few and far between before he got to Hogwarts. So yes, it was better this way. Snape gives just the right amount of good stuff, was his last thought before he tumbled into his own dream world.

***************

Severus worried about the boy. He didn't want to admit it, but he couldn't deny it in the face of his incredibly unending inability to sleep. Well, that was his job after all, to worry after the boy, and he had been doing it long before Harry had come to live with him. Why should anything be different now? Of course now he could actually see all that had to be done for Potter. Now he didn't just have to worry about his physical well-being, he had to worry about the boy's emotional health too. That was new. And it was a hell of a burden to bear, bigger than he ever imagined it would be.

And that's what drove him to the floo the next night, powder in hand, debating.

He was at a loss. Should he put in the floo-call? It was impossible to say what was the right choice. Bringing anyone else into his worries for the child seemed -- drastic. However Severus could not deny that he was at a loss for what to do next. He could be there for Harry, that much he knew, even if the "being there" left something to be desired. But that's what left him once again to his own self doubt. He was not foolish enough to think his mere presence would be enough to solve the child's issues. Life did not give prefect endings, all gift-wrapped and bow-tied. No one knew that better than he did.

And so, in the end, he threw the floo powder in and called out "Albus Dumbledore!" before he could change his mind and go back to bed.

He should have known that Albus would be practically instantaneous in his response. Was the Headmaster sitting by the fireplace just anticipating his call? Maybe the man did have a touch of the Seer in him. One could never tell with Albus. It would not be the first time he’d kept a gift hidden for years.

"Severus, how delightful, what brings you to floo call me this evening? I'm surprised the joys of the soon-to-be-twelve year old in your home and life did not have you dropping into a sound sleep by this hour."

"Mmm, yes, you would think that, but you would be wrong. The mere thought of such – joy --” he sneered, “keeps me wide awake into the wee morning hours." Dumbledore chuckled, as if Severus was joking, as if he was a small child who had just said something silly and was to be rewarded for his wit with a chuckle from Grandad. It annoyed the professor to no end.

"I am quite serious Headmaster. I am plagued by insomnia as a result of James Potter's son living in my home, and I call in the hopes that you would have some ideas on how I can fix this mess."

"What is it this time Severus? Has Harry gotten into your potions lab?”

“Hardly. I doubt his death wish is that entrenched yet. No, if you could bring yourself to be a little less dotty Headmaster for a moment, these issues are of a more troubling, personal nature.”

“I’m all ears, Severus.”

And so, with a brief glace behind him and a short wave of his wand, Severus closed the door. Some conversations shouldn’t be overheard.

**********

He’d only wanted a glass of milk. He knew he wasn’t really supposed to be out of bed – although Snape had never really minded in the past. In fact, sometimes at night he got out of bed and padded around the house just because he could. He wasn’t locked in now, after all.

But no, tonight he wasn’t wandering for the sake of enjoying the space, he simply wanted something to drink. Snape had told him several times that he could help himself to whatever he wanted to eat or drink – well, what he had actually said was “You may help yourself to anything in the pantry or icebox as necessary. Do try not to over indulge.”

Which was easy, really. He had grown up with Dudley as a living example of the need for moderation. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to truly take anything without asking first. People said that all the time, but what if there was something in there that the Professor was saving for a special occasion? Or a potion or something? No, it was definitely better to ask.

Snape wasn’t in his room, which briefly sent a flash of panic straight to Harry’s gut that he tried hard to ignore. Peering down the hall he could see a light that seemed to be coming from the drawing room. He should have figured the man would still be awake.

As he approached he heard the familiar voice of Dumbledore. What was the headmaster doing here at this hour? It was hardly the time for a social visit. Curious, Harry flattened himself against the wall just outside the room and waited. Snape would kill him if he was found eavesdropping again. But he couldn’t help himself. Obviously there had to be something wrong, some sort of emergency. Why else would Dumbledore be here? And since no one ever told him anything important, well, this was the only way he’d ever find out what the problem was.

Severus began speaking and Harry shook himself out of his reverie and tried to focus on the conversation. His guardian sounded more frustrated than usual. Whatever it was, it must be bad.

"I am quite serious Headmaster. I am plagued by insomnia as a result of James Potter's son living in my home, and I call in the hopes that you would have some ideas on how I can fix this mess."

Harry’s vision tunnelled for a moment and he lost his breath. Yes, it was bad. Even worse than he could have imagined.

Severus didn’t want him anymore.

"I fear, Headmaster, that I am out of my depth, and I have no idea how to correct the situation."

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific than that, my boy."

Of course he would. Gritting his teeth, Severus continued. "It's Harry. I know that you don't have children of your own – though perhaps you have children in the hundreds, really if you think about it, though not living in your home, like this. That's not to say that Hogwart's isn't your home, or the home of the students --"

"Severus", came the gentle reminder. He was rambling, he was that far gone. Focus, man!

"I am troubled by his emotional state. I fear the damage done by the Dursleys is far deeper than we had anticipated. Harry is both far too needy and ironically, far too autonomous for a boy of his age. He is prone to emotional break downs and tempers that seem to indicate he is overwhelmed at normal, everyday, interactions with the world. And there's worse, I don't even --"

"What is it?"

"He hoards things. Strange things, like food and underclothes, as if he's afraid what he has now will be taken from him, or that it's limited. Albus," he said, meeting the old man's eyes, "when I've confronted him about his tendency to wander in the night, he takes great pain to assure me that he has not 'left his cupboard'. Left *his* cupboard! Albus, tell me that does not mean what I fear it means."

There was a long pause.

"Albus!"

"I am afraid I cannot offer you any reassurances, child. Harry's words now weigh as heavily on my mind as they do on yours. Have you asked him about it?"

"I haven't had the chance. One push in the wrong direction and I fear he forever have problems assimilating. I do not want to risk the progresses he has made by hitting on a tender spot before he is ready. We would only lose him forever."

"I would suggest a mind healer if I thought there were any we could trust not to sell their stories to the Prophet."

"Not to mention that the boy would never submit to speaking to one."

"There is that, yes. All you can do, Severus, is what you've been doing. Be there for him, be his guardian, his safe ground."

Severus rolled his eyes at the sentimentality. "Speaking of, he still calls me – that word – when he is at the end of his tether."

"You are, I presume, referring to him calling you 'Daddy'?"

"Yes." Severus was surprised he had any jaw bone left to clench, these days. "Don't you think it overly intimate for a child who has known me less than a year?"

"No, do you?"

"I – I was asking you for a reason, I don't know! I have no idea what the normal behaviours are in this situation. Why the boy would choose to entitle me such when he has such a bloody living legend for an actual father is beyond me, that I do know!"

"Ah. Your insecurities are showing, Severus."

"*My* insecurities! James Potter is probably rolling in his grave."

"I very much doubt that, but even if it were so, do you think Lily would be?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a manipulative bastard?"

"They may have done, yes."

HHSHSHSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

Harry was not in his bed.

It took his mind several seconds to process this, and once it did, Severus could imagine the headlines. Golden Boy Missing, Professor Dead in Apparent Heart Attack. Of course the wizarding world would assume he'd done something to the brat, rather than the other way around, but that was to be expected. He was the evil git, after all.

Or perhaps he wasn't having a heart attack, his rational mind supplied, but rather a simple panic attack. Either way, it had become hard to breathe and he was rather convinced that his heart was going to implode either way.

Dying of a panic attack was a rather lame way to die, he decided, but there was little he could do about it.

Thankfully the rational part of his brain kicked in once again. Got to find the boy! How many precious seconds had he lost, standing here staring at the empty bed? A quick cast of spells revealed the obvious – Harry was nowhere in the room. An equally hurried glance around the room revealed no signs of a struggle. Indeed, he had heard nothing himself, and he had been mere rooms away. Somehow that made everything seem worse – clearly someone they trusted had come in and snatched the boy. Just as he was narrowing down the list of people he potentially needed to kill for touching Harry, he spotted the note.

Death Eaters leaving a note. That was certainly new.

The sad attempt at penmanship that was littered across the parchment gave the author away immediately, and Severus' rage moved in a whole new direction. Twelve. The history books would say that the Boy Who Lived in fact had lived only till the age of twelve, when he was killed by his guardian for being a foolish, presumptuous idiot.

Dear Professor Snape,

I didn't want to leave without saying anything, though I imagine that would probably be better for all of us. But I can't go without saying goodbye and thanks. You've done so much for me since last fall, and while I understand you wanting your life back, I do want to say that this last month, having a home and a bedroom and, well, a guardian, were the best gift I could ever have asked for.

I suppose we'll see each other in the fall at Hogwarts. Until then, take care, sir.

H. Potter

Severus could not resist his anger, and before his eyes even lit upon the unneeded signature he had crumpled the note in his fist and tossed it across the room. He recognized the boy was impulsive and reckless at the best of times, but he never would have predicted him to run off in the middle of the night. And what was this about 'wanting his life back'? There was a clue there, clearly, but no time to think it over; there was no telling how long Harry had been gone, and perhaps he was just a jaunt up the road.

With that hope in his pocket, Snape sent off a message to the Headmaster. He almost decided against it when thinking on the reaction Dumbledore would have upon hearing that Snape had up and lost the Boy Who Lived, Saviour of the Wizarding World, but the fact remained that he needed the help more than he needed his hide.

He was down the road in moments – the town square wasn't that far, within easy walking distance from home, much to his annoyance at the moment. He could only hope that whatever misconstrued notions Potter had about the state of his guardianship the knight bus would recognize that this was not an emergency. Who knows where Potter would end up with magical transportation at his disposal?

The fact that Harry was not within immediate eyesight as Severus left the house caused an immediate reoccurrence of the heart palpitations from earlier. While he now knew that Harry had left of his own accord, that didn't mean that any dark wizard couldn't have snatched him off the street the moment he stepped out the door. He steadied himself with a deep breath, wiped the sweat off his brow and kept walking, eyes peeled for any sign of the child.

Which is probably why he didn't hear Dumbledore arrive until he spoke.

"How long has Harry been gone?"

Severus nearly jumped out of his skin.

"You should not sneak up on someone who is currently experiencing heart problems!"

"I do apologize, however the question remains..."

"Last I checked, I did not actually watch him walk out the door!"

"I thought you had wards around the house?"

"I do! To prevent anyone getting *in* not to prevent them from leaving!"

"And the alarms for when the boy gets out of bed?"

"Set to go off in my own chambers. They are probably ringing while we speak."

"And the monitor?"

"It works in both directions. I did not have it with me as I did not want him to hear what I was saying to you."

"My, Severus, I really would have expected..."

"What?! That I would have been better prepared? That I would have protected Harry more strongly than this? That I would have anticipated his propensity to misunderstand situations and run off? What, what did you expect?"

Albus just stared at him for a moment, and simply said, "Clearly I can expect you to be harder on yourself than I ever could be. Let's not focus on recrimination, rather finding Harry. I take it from your words there was a problem with Harry, that he was not snatched?"

"No, he was not snatched. At least not yet. He left a note. I should check with the Weasleys."

"I have already checked with Arthur and Molly. They have neither seen him, nor heard from him. They will be in touch within moments if they do."

"There's nothing to be done but scour the town then."

And with that he strode forward, yelling Harry's name into the dark.

HSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

He'd been walking for what seemed like hours, and despite being July, he was cold. Harry had left Snape's with only what he'd come with. He couldn't take any of the clothes or things the man had bought him, it wouldn't be right. Maybe he could use them for another boy, if Snape took another in.

And he was bone tired. He'd stopped to rest a few times, only to find himself slipping into sleep. That wasn't good, at least not by the side of the road. He had tired an alley, attempted to curl up behind a large garbage bin beside one of the local pubs and had almost drifted off when the thud of a bag of garbage getting dumped woke him fully. Shortly thereafter a group of drunken men fell into the alley in an alcohol fuelled brawl, scaring Harry out of his wits.

He clearly couldn't stay there.

No, there was only one place he could stay until morning. And so he headed there, cold, tired and on the edge of tears.

HSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

After three hours of walking the town from end to end, casting every spell they knew to locate someone, knocking on doors and simply shouting for Harry, Severus and Albus were at a loss.

"Perhaps we should reconvene to Hogwarts, contact others, get the word out.

"Yes, I suppose that would be --" Severus stiffened and turned to the Headmaster, eyes wide. "The wards on my home just went off. Someone has entered the property using the password." And without waiting to for Dumbledore's reaction, he turned on his heel and apparated without thought or consideration for any surrounding muggles. The old man could deal with that.

He ran into the house, leaving the door open behind him and headed straight for Harry's room. Nothing. It was as he had left it.

"Harry! Harry?"

"Harry are you here? Answer me when I'm calling you! Harry!"

"Severus." He jumped again for the second time that evening. Clearly his ability to detect someone sneaking up on him was not as honed as he imagined.

"WHAT?"

"I don't believe Harry is inside."

"I can SEE that Albus."

"No, hear me Severus. I don't believe Harry is *inside*"

"Would it absolutely KILL you to speak clearly, Albus? If you think he's outside, why don't you simply --"

"Severus."

Right. Outside, and then a Point Me spell which directed him to a thick swatch of bushes right against his house, beside the veranda. A swatch think enough to hide a boy, that was certain. Well, almost all of a boy. His trainer was peeking out from the edge of one. The old, dirty trainer Severus was certain he had tossed in the rubbish.

And with that confirmation Severus moved towards the bushes, landing on his knees as if he had been sliding home in a game of baseball. "Harry!" he whispered, pulling the boy to him as soon as he could lay hands on him. Which clearly was the wrong move, as Harry came awake kicking and yelling.

"No! Let go of me! Let go! HELP!"

"HARRY! It's me, it's Severus!"

"D-a- Professor?"

"Yes, you silly boy."

"I'm sorry. I'll go. I just didn't know where to go and the drunk men scared me but I can just, maybe you can apparate me to the Burrow?"

"And why in Merlin's name would I want to do that?"

"Be-because you wanted me to go. You're tired of having me in your life."

"Yes, that's what you said in your note. Why would you think that?"

The incredibly loud sound of a throat clearing interrupted them before Harry could answer.

"Harry, I am glad to see you well. Perhaps you should move this inside, Severus? Now that everyone is reunited I shall return to Hogwarts and inform the Weasleys."

"Yes, of course. Thank you for your assistance."

"The Headmaster was here? And you called the Weasleys? Why?"

Propelling Harry through the front door, Severus had to bite his tongue in an effort not to bite the boy's head off.

"Because, you ridiculous boy, I was worried. I found your note. I was not expecting it, to say the least."

"But you said..."

"Sit," he gestured to Harry's bed. "What exactly do you think you heard?"

"You called me living in your home a mess. You said it to Dumbledore I heard you."

"Yes, but you misunderstood. First Harry, you must know that I have a tendency to sarcasm. I can understand how you might misconstrue that, but you only heard part of the conversation. Harry, I was trying to explain to him that the situation was a mess not because you're here, but because I am so new at this. At being a guardian."

"Oh. So you don't want me to leave?"

"I do not, and I will not."

"Don't say that, you don't know that!"

"I do know that, as I know myself."

"But I might do something that..."

"There is nothing you could possibly do..."

"Don't SAY that! You don't know, you can't!" Of all things, Severus did not expect anger at his reassurances. Indeed, Harry's face was growing red, and his hands were becoming familiar fists.

"Calm down. Fine, you cannot hear the truth right now, well hear this. If I promise to talk to you, and tell you if I ever want to end our arrangement, would that make you feel better?"

"Yeah, a little."

"Well. I suppose that will do for now. Now I think you need to shower again and put your pyjamas back on. It's very late and we have a long day tomorrow."

"Yes sir." As Harry approached the shower he turned.

"Professor, what was the rest of the conversation about?"

"I believe that's between me and the Headmaster. Go shower, Harry. I'll be back to say good night."

HSHSHSHSHSSHSHSHSHSHS

True his promise, Severus re-entered the room a half hour later, only to find Harry sprawled across the bed asleep. Well, he had had a trying evening, it was no wonder.

Removing his glasses and settling him under the blankets, Severus sat on the side of the bed with a weary sigh and dropped his head into his hands.

"What am I doing, Lily?" he whispered. "I am trying so hard, to do right by your son, but I am nothing to what you and James would have been." Severus gave a wet chuckle. "I can almost hear you – 'Well we're *not* there, are we?' No, you're not and it's just not fair. It's not fair to me, and it's especially not fair to Harry. I'm trying to be there for him, trying to buffer the damage your sister and her damned husband inflicted." Raising his eyes to the sky as if she was there, as if Lily could actually hear him he asked, "If he couldn't have you and James, couldn't they have given him to me, instead of those bastards?"

Enough, Severus. Even if she could hear you, she'd think you were mad.

He glanced at the clock, surprised at the time. He needed to get to bed himself. But one last thing...

Leaning over, he pressed a kiss onto Harry's forehead and quietly said "Happy Birthday, child." He was glad the boy wasn't awake to witness his soppiness.

Of course Severus wasn't aware of Harry's talent for faking sleep.

By two o'clock the next afternoon, Severus was prepared to ban birthday parties for the next five years. He was surrounded by squealing, sugar-filled children on all sides and his only adult refuge were the Weasleys and the elderly Mrs. Longbottom. Currently he was seated in a rather uncomfortable plastic chair in his garden, watching Molly Weasley's ill-fated attempts to have the children partake in some sort of organized activity.

Severus, however, had never had any foolish belief that order could be imposed on a group of pre-pubescent gryffindors. No, he would be satisfied if they all remained within the boundaries of his property and relatively unharmed. No, as orderly as this lot would ever get was a game of Quidditch, one of which was currently about to be underway, of course.

Searching the fast-moving blurs in the sky for Harry, Snape pushed an errant floating balloon out of his line of vision. What had originally been intended as a rather straight forward affair with food, cake and gifts had turned rather carnivalesque when Molly appeared and proceeded to "spice up" the garden with various and sundry party decorations. Amidst the free-floating balloons were wriggling streamers (rather snake-like, he thought), the occasional self-blaring horn, and a rather garish banner than read "Happy 12th Birthday Harry!" Yes, with three exclamation points.

Still, catching sight of the boy on his broom, he had to admit that Harry certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. He had the healthy flush of someone who was pulling in sun and fresh air, and Severus couldn't think of that as anything but a good thing – even if it meant having to put up with far too much company. And his guests appeared to be enjoying themselves as well – not that he was concerned about that. He had to admit to feeling some relief that the Weasleys had brought along young Ginerva. It was only upon going to fetch Miss Granger did he realize that she was the only young lady Harry had invited. And while Ginny Weasley clearly wanted to join in the Quidditch game with her brothers, she had kindly decided to join Hermione and Neville Longbottom in a game of Exploding Snap instead.

Yes, everything was going rather smoothly, he had to admit. Which meant it was only a matter of time before it all fell apart in utter disaster.

HSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

Approximately 20 minutes into the Quidditch game, Ronald Weasley came whipping through the air and lost control of his broom. He landed badly, and for a moment his brothers laughed but when the boy didn't immediately stand, Severus knew something was wrong.

"Mum! Dad!" the younger Weasley cried out, and by this time the other boys had landed and Hermione was moving quickly towards her friends.

The elder Weasleys moved towards their children with a speed that Severus had not expected. He found himself watching them in surprise for a moment, taking in their concern for their son and weighing it against his own for Harry the night before.

Of course watching these parents didn't exactly tell him anything, only that paleness and panic in moments such as these were not unusual. But he wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or frightened to know that his first instinctive reactions were on par with the Weasleys.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he moved towards the quickly growing crowd. Someone had to be the calm voice. Molly and Arthur were already leaning over Ron, who was now sitting up, clutching his left hand to his chest.

"Where does it hurt, son?"

"My hand!" came the frustrated reply. Luckily neither of the twins commented on the teary sound in their younger brother's voice.

"I think the hand is broken," Arthur commented quietly to his wife. Not quietly enough, however, as Ronald was heard to exclaim "What! No!"

"May I take a look?" Severus asked as he stepped closer.

"Of course, Severus, please do."

After a quick examination, it was clear the whole hand was not, in fact, damaged. "It's just the first two fingers. I'm afraid I don't have any skele-gro in my personal stores, but I can set it until you have the chance to get some."

"We'd appreciate that very much, thanks."

"Harry, run to my lab, the storage unit against the far wall, top shelf. Get the pain reliever."

Harry took off at a run, not wanting to leave his friend in pain any longer than necessary. As he moved through the house he could help but wonder – what would Snape do if he injured himself like Ron had? Would he rush over like Mrs. Weasley did? Would he wrap an arm around his shoulders and hug him to his chest like Mr. Weasley had to comfort Ron? He had certainly seemed worried last night, and he had comforted him before about things. But never about something as minor as Harry being hurt. Of course he didn't want to get hurt to find out, but he did wonder.

By the time he got back out of the house things were a little calmer. He handed the potion over to his father, along with a roll of medical tape that was in the first aid kit.

"I brought that too. You need to wrap them right?"

He chose to ignore Harry for the moment and passed the potion to Ron instead. "Drink the whole thing down. It will take a few moments to take effect and then we'll set the breaks." Turning then, he looked his charge. Settling his hand on the boy's shoulder he said "Thank you Harry. I didn't even realize you knew that I had a muggle first aid kit. Very resourceful of you. However the tape won't be needed – I can set and immobilize the bones with a spell."

Harry wanted to say 'You're Welcome' but Snape was giving him that look again, the one that made Harry feel like he was being weighed and measured, though against what he could not say. Severus never appeared to find him wanting however, and once again the man pulled himself back without a word and turned to the task before him.

"Alright Mr. Weasley, there will be two spells. The first a bit unpleasant, but you should not feel anything. Are you still in pain?"

"No sir."

"Then let's have this done." And with that he incanted the two spells in quick succession of each other.

The sound of the bones setting drew varied reactions from the crowd. Hermione looked a little green around the edges, and Ronald himself certainly looked quite pale, although he was playing at being unbothered for the sake of his brothers and his friends. Neville had walked a slight distance away so as not to have to witness it all, and the remaining gryffindors – Weasleys included – all seemed to sigh "Cool!" or "Gross!" at the same time. It figured. Harry, as Severus had expected, neither turned away nor said anything, rather watched the scene with concerned yet practiced calm. It was disturbing, but now was neither the time to address his clear attempts at preparation in locating the one muggle first aid kit in the house, nor his obvious _experience_ with broken bones.

Once Ron's fingers were immobilised and other fingers were wiggled in test of the spell, everyone seemed much calmer. Or they did until Molly Weasley wondered "Perhaps we should go home and get Ron to a healer?"

Several heads snapped towards Molly and Arthur, aghast, and four red-headed children started speaking at once. Only Hermione and Percy Weasley appeared to be in agreement.

"Mum, no! I'm fine really. Everything's fixed and it doesn't even hurt anymore!"

"Besides," one of the twins piped up, "we haven't even done cake and presents yet!"

Molly did not look convinced. Arthur, on the other hand, scanned his children with the look of a man who was used to losing many battles such as this. Turning to Snape he asked, "Severus, will the spells hold up for a few more hours with no harm to Ron?"

In his defense, the potions master only hesitated for the merest fraction of a second. For that tiny moment he entertained the welcome thought of having his property back to himself and peace and quiet restored. But of course even if the Weasleys left, the others were likely to remain, so in the end he thought of Harry and told the truth. In for a penny, in for a pound, after all.

"They should be fine for a few hours yet." He aimed a long look at Harry's friend. "As long as Ronald is careful, no more rough housing."

"No!"

"Of course not!"

"Us? Rough house?"

They all looked the picture of innocence, and Severus could practically see the moment the elder Weasleys gave in. For a second time that afternoon he was pleased to gauge their reactions. At least he wasn't the only one who fell for that.

"All right, but once the cake and presents are done we'll be leaving. No need to push our luck."

"We can do the presents and cake now, if you wish."

"Thank you Severus, that's very accommodating of you."

If that was the way they wished to read the situation, well, he wasn't going to be the one to argue with them.

HSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

The cake, also courtesy of Mrs. Weasley, was a sight to behold. Severus lost count of how many layers of cake were under the butter-cream frosting, but there was at least one each of strawberry, chocolate and vanilla. And it was as large around as one of his larger serving platters – he knew because said patter was currently hidden beneath the sugary horror. Scattered across the top were, of course, twelve brightly lit candles. Too bright, he thought, because as everyone began singing Happy Birthday to Harry, Severus thought the smoke must be getting in his eyes.

Harry seemed similarly affected, but not even damp eyes could lessen the brilliance of the grin on his face. It was like nothing Severus had seen from the boy in the last year. With a sudden pang he missed his best friend with a fierceness that he had not felt in years. Oh Lily, you would be so proud of him.

Soon enough the cake was set in front of the birthday boy, who could only stare, looking a little lost. Attempting to help, he leaned over to Harry and said, "It is customary to make a wish and blow out the candles."

"Yeah Harry! Blow them out!"

"Make a wish first!"

"But don't tell anyone."

"Won't come true if you do!"

"Come on!"

Only Severus was close enough to hear Harry murmur to himself "Okay, you can do this."

Harry had no idea what to wish for. The first thing that came to his mind was immediately dismissed. No birthday candle wish could bring his parents back from the dead, and everything else he would have wished for had already come true. In the last year he had found Hogwarts, left the Dursleys and found a Dad. No one was hurting him any longer; he had food and a bed and a place where he belonged. What else was there to want? He could tell everyone was getting restless, however. So, rather than make everyone think he was a freak who couldn't even handle a birthday cake, he simply closed his eyes and blew out the candles. All in one go, he couldn't help but notice proudly.

Soon he was handed the knife and server and was handing out pieces of cake. Before he even set his own plate down in front of him, a package was shoved into his hands. Presents! And more to come, from what he could see. More presents than he'd ever received in his entire life. He was momentarily blown away by the generosity of his friends, but then curiosity overtook him and he grabbed at the tag. It was from Neville and his gran.

"Thank you," he said, smiling at them both.

"You don't even know what it is yet!" Ron exclaimed.

"It doesn't matter, Ronald. Harry is polite!"

Ignoring his friends, Harry ripped into the paper, noticing the dragons flying around the paper. Very cool.

"Wow! A chess set! Thank you so much."

"You're welcome Harry," Neville replied. "Maybe you can practice now, and beat Ron!"

Ron snorted. "Hardly. All the practice in the world won't help you there Harry. But at least now you might be more of a challenge. Thanks Neville!"

Everyone was laughing as Hermione handed him her package. "There's nothing moving on my paper, sorry Harry. Just plain old muggle paper."

Harry smiled. "That's okay Hermione. I've never had anything wrapped in muggle paper before. It's nice." It was. In fact he was slightly more careful as he opened it, just so he could save a bit.

"Dragon bookends! Thank you Hermione!"

"Quite decent quality as well, Miss Granger."

Hermione blushed. "You're welcome. Hopefully soon you'll have lots of non-school books to use with them."

"If I know you and Professor Snape, I absolutely will!"

Ron's gift was. . .perplexing. There were three items, each one looked like a set of funnels fused together, one on each end.

"Thanks Ron. But...er...what are they?"

"What are they? Harry they're the greatest thing ever! You talk into one end and I'll hear, and you'll hear me out the other end. We can talk all the time!"

"Oh! Like walkie-talkies!"

"Walkie whatsits?"

Oh, wonderful, Severus thought. He'd have to closely monitor the use of *those*.

"Why're there three?" Seamus asked.

"One for Hermione!" both boys exclaimed at once. Hermione looked inordinately pleased.

"They're automatically charmed for all three of us to talk at once," Ron explained as Harry handed on to each of his best friends, "but if you just want to talk to one of us just say our name first."

"They're brilliant! I can't wait to try them out."

Harry continued through his packages. There was a huge box of sweets from Dean and Seamus, a scroll of parchment from Fred and George that read 'Good for one prank against our little brother when he's being a git' – he'd had to hide that away before Ron started asking what it was – and a jumper and two pairs of knitted socks from the rest of the Weasleys.

And just when he hadn't wanted to ask, Snape handed him a relatively large package. "This is for you to open," was the only instruction he received.

And when he did . . . wow!

"A camera! That's amazing, thank you!"

"Not just a camera, but a wizard camera. It will allow you to take photos that move like the ones you've seen. And it auto-develops by charm, so you can see the photos relatively quickly."

"That is so wicked. I can take some of the party right? Is it ready to use?"

"I had thought of that, yes. It's prepared."

Amidst the clamour of his party guests to get their pictures taken and to take pictures of Harry, Snape stood to retrieve something from his pocket. Before he even knew where to turn his attention, Mr. Weasley turned to Harry.

"Why don't you pass me the camera, Harry. I can be the official photographer, as I do believe you have one more gift to open."

One more gift? Everyone had given him something. What else could there be? Arthur gave him an indulgent smile and nodded towards his guardian who was now standing beside Harry with a small package in his hand.

"I have one more for you."

If Harry didn't know better, he'd say Snape sounded nervous. Looking up, he could tell this was important, so Harry stood as well. Taking the package, he turned it in his hands as if he could see through the simple green paper what it was. He couldn't of course, but he wanted to keep this moment going. Finally he gave in, however and opened it, lifting the lid off the box.

The note on top read: For the front door.

Underneath was a key.

Harry couldn't breathe. A key of his own to Snape's house. Or, their house, he supposed was what Snape was trying to tell him. He couldn't help himself. He had to do something or he would burst into tears. So instead, he launched himself at Snape, wrapping his arms around the man's middle and burying his face against his chest. He was pleased to notice that Snape didn't hesitate in wrapping his arms around Harry in return. Not for one second, not even in front of all these people.

They stood there like that for a few moments, and Harry realised he'd have to clean his glasses of a few tears despite his best intentions. Moving away he did just that.

"It is less a gift and more your right. A right you already have. However I thought you might appreciate. . ."

"I do. Thank you."

"What is it Harry?" an unnamed voice asked.

"It's, um, a key. A key to the front door."

"A key? Why do you need a key? Isn't the door spelled to respond to a password?" Leave it to Ron to not get it.

"It's symbolic, you git!" And leave it Hermione to get it exactly.

The ensuing silence was broken by Neville. "Hermione? Did you just say *git*?" And the moment ended in laughter all around.

HSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

It wasn't long after that everyone began leaving, and Harry had to admit that he was totally exhausted. It was a lot to take in for one day, especially given the fact that he had run away just the night before. And that made the gift of the key that much more special. Clearly Severus had had it made in advance of the party, and therefore Harry's mistaken assumptions were that much more obvious in their error.

Not to mention his first birthday cake with candles, even if he hadn't made a wish, all the presents and his friends and family there. His family. Just having one was all the birthday present he needed.

And so, as the sugar of the cake wore off and the events of the day sunk in, Harry felt himself dead on his feet and clingier than he would ever allow himself to be in the past. And even though he was twelve now, and far, far too old for it, it was all he could do to say goodbye to his guests and not just crawl into his guardian's lap and drift off.

Severus, to his credit, kept Harry on his feet and propelled forward, hands on the boys shoulders.

Arthur Weasley was the last to floo through, assuring them he'd see the others home. "Thank you for a wonderful time, Severus. Looks like you'll need to put Harry to bed much earlier than usual."

"And myself as well, I expect."

"I've left the pictures in the box with the camera."

"Thank you." He paused, making a decision. "Arthur, may I ask..."

With a grin Arthur Weasley pulled a single photo from his pocket. "Yes, I thought you might want this."

And there it was. The image of him and Harry embracing, Harry looking up at him with a look he could not describe. His voice caught in his throat and all he could do was nod at the other man.

"You're welcome," Arthur said.

And with that he flooed away.

It'd been weeks and he still hadn't addressed the main issues he needed to talk to Harry about. At first he'd excused himself by saying he wanted the boy to get used to his new home. Then it was because it was his birthday. Now here it was already mid-August and he still hadn't started the conversation. He was quite simply avoiding a difficult situation. Time to bite the bullet, before they went back to Hogwart's and lost the privacy they had gotten used to over the summer.

Harry was easy to find, sitting on the bed in his room playing with the chess set that he received from Neville on his birthday. Severus had charmed it to automatically play against anyone using the board, so that Harry always had 'someone' to play against. Stopping in the doorway, Snape watched a bit while Harry played. His level of focus on the game was impressive - he didn't even notice his guardian standing there. If only he could have some of that focus in his potions class, the man thought. Finally, Severus cleared his throat to get Harry's attention. It startled the boy mildly; he still hadn't quite fully adjusted to sudden noises.

Harry looked up with a sheepish smile. "Hi!"

"Are you winning?"

"So far!"

"You've improved much over the last few weeks."

"Yeah, thanks for the charm. It's helped a lot."

"You're welcome. However, I need you to put the game aside for a moment or two. We need to have a talk." That, Severus noticed, clearly made the boy nervous. He should have found another way to phrase it. He made a mental note for next time. Although hopefully there wouldn't be a next time. It was too nerve wracking. So much damage could be done if he managed to do this the wrong way. So instead of talking, he decided to start with a gift.

Unshrinking the package he had in his pocket, Severus held the rather large box in his hands and approached the bed. Sitting on the edge and facing the boy he set the box on the mattress between them where the chess set had been a mere moment ago.

"What's this?" Clearly the boy's curiosity overwhelmed his anxiety, which his guardian was glad to see. Small steps. Very, small steps.

"This is a lock box. It's for you."

"It's for me? Another present? Why?"

"Yes, well...Harry, I thought you could keep some of your things in the box.

"Like what things?"

Here Severus hesitated. The child was going to be very upset at being discovered. "I happened to notice that you have some – items – tucked away on the shelf in your closet."

Harry blanched almost instantly, gripping the comforter beneath his fingertips. Yes, just as Snape had suspected. This wasn't going to be easy.

"I don't."

"You don't what?"

"I don't have things in there, I swear."

"That's a lie Harry. I thought you were better than that."

Harry started to breathe shallowly, and Severus could see that this was getting out of hand far more quickly than he had anticipated.

"Calm down. While I don't like that you're lying to me, I'm willing to overlook it for the moment. What I don't want a repeat of the time in the kitchen when I asked about your sleep walking. So you need to take a few deep breaths for me Harry."

Harry didn't want any repeats of the fainting incident either, so he tried his best to obey, pulling in air even though his body seemed intent on rebelling.

"Now, you need to realize and understand that every time I question you, every time I approach you about something, it doesn't mean I'm scolding you. Not everything I say is an accusation."

"It was before."

"Before when?"

"Last year. At first. You were mean."

"Yes, I was. And I still am. But the fact of the matter is, who I am as a teacher, and who I am as your -" he couldn't help but stumble here. As much as the relationship between them was both acknowledged and desired. Saying it so blatantly out loud still proved difficult. So he moved on, and hoped Harry wouldn't take it as a slight. "Who I am as a teacher and who I am as your guardian are two different things, two completely different situations. And they well forever remain separate, I hope you understand."

"Right, no telling the other kids the stuff you do for me here at home 'cause they wouldn't be afraid of you anymore."

Severus flushed, and then rolled his eyes in annoyance to try to cover the fact that he was embarrassed. "Exactly. I have a reputation to uphold you recognize."

Here Harry looked offended. "I do too you know!"

Snape could only raise an eyebrow in question. Beyond the horrid title of Boy Who Lived, what reputation would a 12 year old have to maintain?

Harry blushed. "If I were to tell the other kids how nice you are to me they'd know how big a baby I am sometimes. I don't want them to know about the stuff I do here either. I mean, I bet not even Neville needs the hall light on for bed, and I bet Seamus and Dean don't get scared in the middle of the might. I bet..."

"I bet none of the hide food or pants in their closets either, hmm?"

Harry stuttered to a stop and stared at Severus.

"I don't know what you mean. I don't hide anything in there!"

"I never said you hid things, Harry. I said you kept things in there. And you do. I could go open the door right now and there would be food and clothing and other things in there sitting on the shelf. But like I said, this isn't an accusation Harry. I don't care where you keep your things, as long as everything is neat and tidy. My question to you is why?"

"Why what?"

Snape resisted the urge to shake the boy into his senses. Why what? He knew exactly what Snape was asking him. None the less, Severus persevered. "Why do you keep those types of things in your closet?"

Harry couldn't deny that he had been asked a very direct question. He just didn't know how to answer it. He had tried denial, but clearly that didn't work and he didn't want to push his luck. If he went too far, his guardian would surely do exactly what he suggested, go into the closet and look for himself. And that would not be good. So, in the end, all he did was stare at the bedspread and shrug.

Severus got up and started pacing the room, and Harry could tell that he had angered the man. Pulling his legs up against his chest, Harry scooted back against his headboard and watched the pacing. Turning on his heel, Snape faced his charge once again.

"Harry, I will ask you again. I need to know. Why are you keeping these things in your closet?"

He didn't want to disappoint the man. He truly didn't. But he couldn't actually tell the professor why. He was too embarrassed. He already knew about Harry getting hurt, he didn't want to tell the man that his family couldn't even stand having him in the same room, the same house as them. He must have been terrible to be locked up. If Snape found out, he'd take a closer look, and maybe he wouldn't want Harry there either. Maybe he would lock him away too, Harry thought with a shudder. And as much as his cupboard had made him feel safe against the Dursleys, it also was a prison. A cramped place where it was hard to sleep and where the cleaning products smelt bad and where he often wasn't even let out to go to the toilet. How could he tell the man who had saved him that he didn't even deserve to use the toilet with normal people?

"Harry?" Snape was still waiting.

"I need them. I need them in there just in case." If he made it through this conversation the gods owed him a reward for his patience.

"Just in case what? What are you planning for?"

Harry was starting to shake. How could he say this? The words didn't even seem to want to come out of his mouth. All he could do was slam his eyes shut and shake his head. NONONONONONO. This couldn't happen. A hand came to rest on the top of his head, and Harry crouched back even further. There was nowhere else to go.

"I will not judge you Harry. You have my word." Harry opened his eyes and tried to find the truth in those words. Could he open up and tell this man what had happened to him? What would happen? And then Snape pulled out the one thing that had worked so well for him in the past.

"Please."

So Harry took a breath and spilled it all out of him in a rush.

"Theykeptmelockedupinthecupboardunderthestairs."

Severus had to try and interpret, try and make sense of what the child had just said. He couldn't ask him to repeat himself; it had taken him enough courage to say the words in the first place. Now what those words were...

And then it all hit Snape in the chest in a sudden realization. They'd locked him in a cupboard. He couldn't even fathom what this must have been like for the boy. But even having had his suspicions, Snape was horrified to hear the words from Harry himself.

Then the other penny dropped. If Harry was keeping food and clothing in the closet, not only had he obviously been in that blasted cupboard for extended periods of time, he obviously feared and expected to be locked away while at the manor with Severus. That was untenable.

Snape opened the eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed and looked at Harry. Such a small thing, for his age. Was that why? No sun, no food, no space. The child in front of him appeared as white as a ghost and had his hands fisted in the bed clothes.

"Harry. Do you worry that I will lock you in your bedroom closet?"" He barely heard his own voice, so hard was it to speak the words.

Harry only kept still, not moving, not willing to admit this part of his reality, of his past, not willing to admit his fears in case it gave the man ideas. New ways to punish him for doing the wrong thing.

Snape should have known that he'd not get a response. He heaved a sigh and ran his hands through his hair in a frustrated gesture. When would things get easier? Would there ever be a time when they didn't have to have intense and emotionally fraught conversations?

Harry still, despite Severus' best hopes and intentions, did not trust him. He did not know what to say, how to reassure the boy for what felt like the hundredth time. Surely even Harry must be getting tired of hearing the same old assurances. But yet he had to try.

"Harry –" the professor began.

"If they kept me in there, in my cupboard I couldn't ruin things. It was better that way."

Harry clamped his mouth shut almost instantly, as if they words had escaped his body unbidden. Perhaps they had. The damage was done, but that didn't mean he had to dig himself in any deeper.

It seemed to take Snape a few seconds to realize that he had spoken, and Harry spotted an astonished look come over the man's face and then quickly disappear.

"Better for whom? Certainly not for you, Harry. And how much damage can one boy do? How many things did you break?"

"Not – not so many. Not as many as Dudley. It wasn't so much that. It's just that – it's because I, I," and here he involuntarily dropped to a whisper, "I contaminate the environment. With my freakishness."

He waited for a moment for the older man to realize. Too see what he had agreed to take in. But all Snape did was clench his jaw and mutter something about 'the unforgivables', whatever that meant.

"You are not a freak, Harry. Surely you've realised by now the lies they told you?"

"But—"

"No, let me finish. It is simply a matter of logic. Why did they think you were a freak?"

"Because I did bad and strange things."

"But you know now that those things were not bad. They were simply your innate magic."

"Innate?"

"Natural, instinctual."

"Yes, but – "

"You have magic because you are a wizard. That's normal. Otherwise all wizards and witches would be freaks. Is Ronald Weasley a freak? Miss Granger?"

"No, of course not! But I'm different. Even Vold— You-know-who couldn't kill me. That's freaky isn't it?"

"I thought all the accolades of the wizarding world hadn't gone to your head, boy?"

"They haven't!"

"Then back to the logical answer Harry. That night with the Dark Lord – did you do anything to save yourself?"

"No, sir. I was just a baby."

"Exactly. You know the story Harry. You know that it was your mother's sacrifice that created the magic to save you. Does that make her a freak?"

"My Mum was NOT A FREAK!"

"No, she wasn't. She was very powerful. So if your mother saved you, that just makes you a perfectly normal, albeit very loved, young wizard. Much like all your peers at Hogwarts. And you don't think they're freaks."

"No."

"So if you're a normal wizard boy and normal wizard boys aren't freaks, that must mean…"

Harry was stunned. When Snape put it so plainly like that, it was hard to deny.

"Harry?"

"I'm not – I'm not a freak."

If he hadn't been distracted by this epiphany he would had seen the soft look on Severus' face. Well, softer than usual, anyway. A moment later Harry felt the familiar sensation of fingers lifting his chin.

"No, you are not."

Snape kept his gaze for several moments, as if willing Harry to believe him. So he gave a nod. It was the least he could do.

"Now, this is the important part. Even if you were the freakiest child on the planet, there is no justification, ever, for locking a child in a cupboard. None. So no matter what you do, you will never be shut away again. Now if it helps you to trust me on this, I can remove the door to your closet. Would that make you feel safer?"

"No."

"No? I'm not sure there is anything else I can do…"

"No I mean, yes, it would make me feel better to have the door gone, but doesn't leaving it on show that I believe you? That I'm trying to trust what you're saying?" He couldn't resist a small smirk. "I mean, if you're looking at it logically."

"Indeed. Well thought out, Mr. Potter. That's impressive logic."

Last time on Filling the Void – Harry confessed to living in his cupboard, and Severus used logic to convince Harry that he was not a freak. It may have even worked.

HSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

He didn't want to go.

In fact, the very idea was like something out of his nightmares.

And yet, here he was, trudging through the crowds in Diagon Alley carrying various packages while Harry walked ahead with his friends.

The things this idiot child had brought into his life without him even realizing it.

That morning when Harry was preparing to head to the Alley to do his pre-term shopping, Severus made one simple mistake. He told Harry that he would drop him at the Weasley's at 9:30. And it hadn't even been the hurt look on the boy's face to clue him in. Oh no, it had taken more than that.

"What do you mean, you're going to drop me off? Aren't you coming?"

Severus could not mistake the slight note of panic in Harry's voice. And he had to admit that he was a little taken off guard by the question.

"I. . .did not realize you wanted me to accompany you. I thought you would want to be alone with your friends."

"I just. . ." Harry began, "all the other parents go. I thought you would come too, but if you don't want to. . ."

"It is not a matter of whether I want to or not, Harry. I simply did not realize you wished for me to accompany you."

"Well, yeah. I do. That is, if you don't have other things you have to do."

Of course he had other things to do. He always had other things to do. It could not be said that Severus was a man who allowed himself much idle time, even if it was simply reading the latest apothecary journals. Still...

"Nothing that can't wait. I shall just need a few extra moments to prepare myself for the outing."

As he left the room he did not miss that infernal happy smile the boy always wore when he got his way. He endeavoured not to feel too self-satisfied at the thought that he had put it there.

Still, he could not help but notice the slight look of surprise on Molly Weasley's face as he informed her that rather than dropping Harry off at the Burrow the two of them would meet the others at the Leaky Cauldron in one hour. He scowled back at her as surprise turned into what he could only assume was condescension.

"I'm so glad you'll be joining us Severus! It's always an interesting trip, and there's nothing quite like the joy of being involved in our children's schooling. Especially considering they are away from us much of the time while they're at Hogwart's. Of course, that doesn't apply to you, now does it? Even so, I'm sure it's important to you to..."

"Yes, yes, very. Clearly that's why I'm coming along. Now if you don't mind, Harry and I have much to finish up before we meet you."

"Oh, of course! We'll see you at the Leaky Cauldron then!"

Of course, Severus thought with a sigh.

HSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

Things went south rather quickly. Almost as soon as they had all gathered, as a matter of fact. Just as all parties were about to set off to their shopping Harry pulled him up short with a hearty

"But aren't we going to Gringott's?"

"Why would we be going to Gringott's?"

"Well I've got to get my money!"

"If there is something you wish to purchase we can discuss it. If I agree, we can take it out of your allowance."

"What do you mean if there's something I 'wish to purchase'? Of course there's something I wish to purchase. There's a whole ruddy list of stuff right here! How can there be anything to discuss?"

"You made a list of frivolities you wish to purchase on this outing? While I might agree to one treat or toy, an entire list is right out of the -"

That's when he actually looked at the list.

Oh. The school list. Of course it was.

"I do not intend for you to buy your own school supplies, Harry. I may be frugal, but that is pushing the limit even for myself."

"What do you mean I won't be buying them? That is what you mean, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's what I mean. I believe your parents left you that money so that you would have something to carry into adulthood. Not so that you had to use it one basic robes and school text books."

"But then how am I supposed to get them? I can't go without obviously!"

"Are you really this dense or are you being deliberately obtuse?"

Before he could take back his last statement, and take it back he wished he could, seeing the boy flinch like that, Arthur Weasley decided to step in. Of course he did, the bloody do-gooder.

"Harry my boy. I think what Professor Snape is trying to say is that you're in his care, and he will be buying your supplies."

"Yes, that is it exactly." He was briefly grateful to the man for stepping in after all, but he would not admit that. There was only so far he could go, after all.

He noticed that the rest of their party was watching them and over-hearing the exchange. It made Severus incredibly uncomfortable. Not only for himself and his inability to explain even the simplest ideas to his charge, but for the looks of pity they all seemed to get on their face once they understood that Harry didn't get it. He simply didn't have a concept for what Severus was giving him, and therefore could not comprehend. So of course it made them all pathetic and weepy.

Pulling Harry by the arm he took the boy aside a few feet in order to give them both some privacy. "That is what I was trying to tell you - I do not wish for you to drain your gringott's vault for basic needs that should have previously been provided by the Dursleys. Harry, you should not have to pay for your own school things."

"Well neither should you!"

That took Severus aback. He thought that Harry would readily accept his offer. Most children would prefer not to spend their own money if they could avoid it. But no, of course Harry would not be like all the other children he'd ever encountered. He should have expected this.

"And why should I not be the one to buy your supplies?"

Harry blushed. "Well, it's not like you're really...I mean, I wouldn't have it any other way, but...you know that it's different, not the same, and you shouldn't have to pay for my stuff like a real dad would."

Well then.

Severus had no idea two little words could sting quite as much as they did, and 'real dad' packed quite the wallop. No, he was not going to allow it to affect him, however. Harry had not meant to be hurtful with his words, and in the end Severus chose to see what the boy was trying to get at. Harry had a point, after all.

He couldn't resist a small barb, however. "Perhaps you should look up the words 'biological' and 'real' when we get home and you can tell me what the difference is. Regardless of my status or relationship with you Harry, the fact of the matter is I am at the least acting as your guardian, and as such it is my job to take care of your needs. One of those needs is school supplies. The matter is closed to further discussion, and I hope to hear nothing further about it."

"Well, thank you. I appreciate it."

"I never imaged otherwise. You are ridiculously grateful for everything."

Harry scowled, and that was the reaction Severus was hoping to see. The boy got too emotional and maudlin for his own good, far too often. "Well would you rather I not be grateful at all?"

"I imagine you could try it and find out, but i wouldn't recommend it. For your sake."

With a roll of his eyes Harry turned back to his friends. It would appear that this year was going to start off differently than last year, that was for sure.

HSHSHSHSHSHSHS

It was a long bloody day, that was certain. Harry was distressed to find out that he did not need new robes, that the old ones had turned out to be slightly too large last year and while he had grown a bit, it was not more than five centimetres and the old robes would continue to be sufficient.

Madame Malkin did not make the same mistake as the last time they had visited her shop, and that was a significant relief to Severus. In fact he thought she was a little reluctant to serve them, and the entire encounter was awkward. Perhaps if only tantrums and bad news were to happen when they went robe shopping Severus would leave the boy at home in the future. If they kept going on this way they'd be run out of the store before Harry reached fifth year.

They lingered at the apothecary longer than usual. The children picked up the basic potions items they needed from their lists but Snape made a point to provide a suggestion of an extra ingredient for each of them. Something that would assist them overcome their weaknesses or capitalize on their strengths.

None of this was cheating, that much he was sure of, and he did not feel bad about his assistance. It would be no different than the advice any wizarding parent with a working knowledge of potions would give to their child. So what if he happened to extend that advice beyond Harry to his frends? Granger's parents would obviously be of no help to her in that area, and the Weasleys, despite their pureblood status and own strengths in wizarding were not, by any means, potions experts.

Harry deserved whatever advantage Severus' years of solitude and study could provide him. Besides, he was just filling in for what Lily would have done. While the senior Potter was moderately adept at potions, Lily had been extremely talented in the discipline and would have been helping her son and his friends in the very manner Severus was if she was here.

The very thought stopped Severus in his tracks, and he could not stop the choking feeling in his throat as he thought of her, here in this very store, shopping with her son. Would she have had more children? Would she have chosen to give Harry an owl, or would he have had some other familiar? Would she have allowed him on the Quidditch team as a tiny first year? No doubt a row with her husband would have arisen about that topic. But then, if she was here, perhaps Harry would not have been such a tiny first year...

He would gladly risk knowing that he would never be a part of her life, of either of their lives, just to have her back. To give mother and son the simple act of school preparation.

He was startled out of his moment by the sound of Molly Weasly replacing a glass stirring rod on one of the shelves. She looked at him with a small smile. He hoped that she was not about to start one of her inane, lengthy conversations about wizarding housekeeping or some such.

But no.

That was not at all what happened. As she walked by, Severus felt her hand grasp his and squeeze. Very quickly. If he hadn't been paying attention he might not have noticed. And then quietly she whispered to him,

"She is here Severus. With you and Harry. She is." And just as quickly she moved on, leaving him struggling to maintain his composure.

Indeed she is, he thought as he looked at Harry laughing with his friends. Indeed she is.

HSHSHSHSHSHSHS

One of their last stops was Flourish and Botts, to pick up the needed text books for the year. Saving the heaviest for last was an efficient choice. The list of books was ridiculous, that much he knew. For their Defense Against the Dark Arts alone there were multiple books, all by that dunderhead Gilderoy Lockheart. What had possessed Albus to hire the man was beyond him.

Needless to say he'd tried to talk the headmaster put of it, to no avail. Albus' main argument was that the curse on the job made it difficult to hire anyone, that few wizards were willing to take on the post.

"Are you going blind in your old age? I am standing right in front of you!"

"You know I cannot give you the position, precisely because of the problems with the job. No one ever manages to stay in the position more than one single school year. I simply cannot risk losing you. And now that you have other obligations, I am surprised that you are still seeking to obtain it. Certainly you wouldn't want to be leaving the school so soon, with Harry here and under your care?"

"All the other children live here without their parents. That is the point of a boarding school, Albus."

"Interesting choice of words, Severus. Very interesting indeed. Regardless, I suspect that were I to offer you the Defense position you may no longer find it so appealing now that your circumstances have changed. And I cannot risk a delay to fill the position while you are struggling with the meaning of your new role in Harry's life. It simply is not meant to be at this time."

"Be that that as it may, Albus, Gilderoy Lockhart? Really?"

"There is nothing to be done. And if his books are to be believed he is quite the skilled wizard when it comes to the dark arts."

"Oh of course. *If* his books tare to be believed. Which everyone with even a pea brain knows is not the case. I find it difficult to understand your actions, installing a simpleton fraud to teach our children, to teach Harry, how to defend themselves against the worst type of magic out there."

"Fear not, Severus, I have the utmost faith that Harry will acquire all the instruction he requires."

Now, standing in the bookstore watching the idiot in front of him who was this year's Defense teacher, Severus could only hope that Albus was once again speaking in riddles. Because Lockheart was ridiculous. The women and girls in their party had found their way closer to the man, and Severus tried not to feel ill as they all swooned over the man. Ridiculous.

Harry and Ron were hanging back slightly, making the kinds of disgusted faces that only twelve year old boys are capable of. Severus was almost impressed. What happened next though, made every muscle in his body freeze while at the same time move into a state that was ready to spring into action.

"Why it's Harry Potter!" came the simpering voice from the front of the store.

Before Snape really had a chance to register the action, Lockheart had taken hold of Harry and pulled him to the front of the store, an arm wrapped around the boy's shoulder. Harry, for his part, couldn't possibly have looked more uncomfortable than he did at that moment. It took every ounce of self-control Snape had not to snap the other wizards hands off, but he decided not to make a scene. Let the boy have some autonomy, see how he handles the situation. Severus would not be able to save him from every awkward scene and moment in his life. It was best to see how he handled things in a relatively innocuous situation as soon as possible.

While Lockheart stood there like a ninny, getting his picture taking and offering Harry a 'gift' of the books he needed for his classes, Harry's eyes were scanning the crowd. Severus knew they were looking for him, and not willing to torture the boy too much further, he stepped out of the shadows where he had been trying to maintain some sense of invisibility.

As soon as his movement registered, Harry's eyes snapped to his, the pleading there was crystal clear. But still, Severus did not move. Until Harry made the sign for 'please' and 'help' from the front of the room. He was helpless in the face of that clear request for assistance. In fact, Severus could have sworn he moved so fast that he flew.

He knew he'd reached the boy when a sound went up from the gathered crowd. He wasn't quite sure whether it was simply people angry at him for ruining their photographs, or general lack of appreciation for his mere presence, but neither did he care. His focus was elsewhere.

"Why it's Severus Snape! Renowned Potions Master!" Lockheart was attempting to save the situation, that much was clear, but there would be no saving it. His moment exploiting Harry was about to come to a very abrupt end.

As he approached Lockheart, Severus first removed the man's hand from Harry's shoulder. Frankly he was rather impressed with his self-control. No fingers were broken in the removal, after all. After moving Harry off to the side and pushing him towards the Weasleys he turned towards the narcissistic fool and stated, loudly and with intent, "If you touch my child again you will find yourself begging for the mercy of death."

And with one simple statement, Flourish and Botts erupted. Snape found himself surrounded by reporters and on-lookers, all shouting questions at him. The most frequent of which contained the words "Harry" and "son". Right. He hadn't quite intended to make an announcement, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

And to add fuel to the fire, as he stood there trapped he spotted Harry, the Grangers and the Weasleys at the back of the store in conversation with Lucius Malfoy. With one final glance at the crowd surrounding him, Severus raised himself to his full height and shouted "ENOUGH!"

As the audience fell into stunned silence, he added, "Do let me pass. Now."

With his freedom gained, he stalked over to his companions, drawing his wand as he walked. Lucius Malfoy did not see it coming until it was pointing at him square between the eyes.

"Step away from him now, Malfoy."

"Now really Severus, I did not know you cared so much. We were simply conversing."

"Continue to defy my wishes and it will be your last conversation."

The pause before Lucius Malfoy gathered his son and stepped away seemed to go on forever. But once he finally did, Malfoy placed his well-known look of haughty condescension on his face.

"I don't take threats lightly, Severus. Especially not from you. You'll pay for this."

"I am quivering with anticipation, Lucius." He waited until the man was out of the store before he lowered his wand. Even then, he did not re-sheath it. Turning quickly to Molly and Arthur he asked,

"Would you be so kind to take Harry's purchases to the Burrow for us to collect later this evening?"

"Certainly, Severus."

"Say goodbye to your friends, Harry."

"But we were going to go - "

"Say goodbye."

"Uh, I guess I'm going. Talk to you later guys."

And with that, Severus pulled the boy against his chest and apparated them both away.