Or was it? All Harry knew was that the week after were the best of his life. He ate all the food he wanted, played with toys he’d only dreamed of having, and his aunt and uncle had even permitted him to sleep in Dudley’s room. When his birthday rolled around, he even got a cake and a few presents. Nothing special, just a couple of balls and such, but to a boy who had never had any presents his entire life (that he knew of), this was heaven.

This wasn’t done without reason. After years of abuse, did the Dursleys suddenly have a paradigm shift? No, they knew that a happy child would sell for more. As despicable as they were, they thought that they were doing the best for the child and for them. After all, the child would grow up with the wizarding community, and they’d be rid of the freakishness for once and for all. So for once, they bided their time, and waited patiently.

Arabella Figg, to say in the least, was confused. What had caused this turnaround? Awfully suspicious, She owled Minerva again. Minerva, of course, went to Albus. And what did Professor Dumbledore do? Smile genially, with the twinkle in his eye going on full force.

Severus, of course, was stuck in some corner of his new house, languishing in the dark, in agony over the letter he had been given.

There was no one to play the hero for the little boy, not a single person.

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Vernon Dursley took the entire week before that day off, keen on finalizing all the final touches of the hand-over.

It was actually a good thing Nott and Goyle weren’t aware of who the child in question was. Of course, they never thought to ask, either.  Business had been booming, and they couldn’t afford to lose any time. So of course, they arranged for a date as the final deadline rather impersonally: August 4th.  But before that, they had to introduce various customers to the Dursleys.

Vernon was willing to hand over the boy to the first person who approached. Petunia, on the other hand, hesitated at each turn. She had turned down three potential buyers already, saying one looked suspicious, another didn’t offer enough money, and one, strangely enough, was too ugly. At this rate, Vernon might very well just try the auction system.

As the final deadline approached, Vernon became increasingly anxious. Anything could go wrong: the police would find out (did the wizarding world have police?), Petunia would make him withdraw the offer, or heaven forbid, those two shady characters would kill him. Offers still came in steadily, but Petunia had habitually declined all of them —except one.

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Professor Dumbledore was visited upon by two Aurors in the early morning of July 30th.

“Good morning, Kingsley, Moody. Lemon drops?” he offered.

“Err, no thanks, Albus,” Kingsley replied. Why was he always so nervous around this man?

“Enough with this foolishness, old man,” Moody said gruffly. “We’ve come about important business, here.”

Dumbledore smiled genially, totally unfazed by Moody’s attitude. “So what can I do for you today, gentlemen?”

“We need to borrow Severus, Professor,” confessed Kingsley. “And we can’t find him. He’s moved, apparently, and he hasn’t registered his address yet.”

“That’s odd,” Dumbledore replied, with a frown. “Severus should have finished re-decorating his house by now. He told me he was going to register his change of address on the 28th, but today’s already the 30th.”

“Is the boy all right?” Moody asked.

Kingsley laughed. “I never thought I’d ever hear you ask about the well-being of Severus, seeing as you hate him so.”

Moody glared at him. “Well, we need him, don’t we?”

“And what do you need him for, Alastor?” asked Dumbledore mildly.

“We need him for a mission,” replied Moody tersely.

“We can tell him, Moody. After all, we don’t know how to get to Severus…Professor Dumbledore is the only way we can reach him,” protested Kingsley.

“Oh, all right. We need him to infiltrate the child slavery market. We’ve picked up a couple of the goons, but they can’t tell us anything. They’re very smart, covering their tracks. But not smart enough. We’ve been catching some of the higher-ups, and they told us a few of the former Death Eaters have gone into business,” finished Moody. “We need Severus to infiltrate, firstly, because he is knowledgeable in that area, and secondly, I know he’s got an extra-strength Polyjuice Potion on hand.”

“My, my, Alastor, you’re so very well informed,” said Dumbledore. “Very well, I shall contact Severus for you. I must see what the boy is up to, in any case.”

“Well, we’ll be on our way then,” said Kingsley, and opened the Floo. As they walked into the Floo though, you could hear Kingsley asking Moody, “How on earth did you know Severus had extra-strength Polyjuice?”

Dumbledore chuckled, long and loud.

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In the afternoon, Severus suddenly heard his Floo flare to life. He didn’t worry too much; after all, only Dumbledore had access to this house…so far, anyways.

“Severus, my boy?”

Grudgingly, he stood up, and began the long trek to the living room, where the fireplace was located. He knew his eyes were still red, and his hair horribly unkempt, but he really didn’t care at this point.

“Yes?” he asked dully, his eyes too bloated to even consider glaring at the head floating in the green flames.

“Severus, my boy, so glad to see—” Dumbledore paused. “Merlin’s beard, Severus! What have you done to yourself? I’m coming straightaway!”

Within moments he had arrived. “Are you all right, my dear boy?” Dumbledore asked, concerned. He hadn’t seen his boy so upset since Lily’s death.

“This,” he answered, thrusting the letter at Dumbledore. Noticing Lily’s beautiful handwriting on the outside of the envelope, his hand shook as he accepted the letter.

“I received this letter a week ago.” Severus’s voice faltering as he struggled to keep the emotion in. “Read it. Really, go on. I insist.”

Dumbledore nodded, mute.

My dearest Severus,

I have come to make amends with you, dear one. I know we parted on bad terms, but ever since that day, I have felt as if a vital part of me has gone missing. Can we start again, Sev?

I wait eagerly for your reply. I love you.

Lily

“She died a week after this was written! I nev-never got the chance to tell her—” his voice caught, and a ragged sob came out. Taking a deep breath, he continued, whispering, “I loved her too, and I too, regretted that argument…”

He sagged, and Dumbledore barely caught him. “Oh, Severus, I’m so sorry.”

Huge, wracking sobs shook Severus’s body. The two men stood there for a long time, as Dumbledore rubbed his back over and over again, consoling him, as only a father could to his son.