The flat was cold and dark, he had not bothered to stoke the fire to burn all day, it was a waste of precious wood, especially when he wouldn’t be home to take advantage of it. Though as a wizard he could transfigure objects as needed, he found that after working a twelve hour shift brewing potions, his magical levels were depleted and anything extra he did with magic exhausted him. Unless it were small personal spells, like the Warming Charm he’d cast.

He flicked his wand at the lights and muttered “Lumos”, and the lightbulbs overhead, which had burnt out months ago, lit up. He had spelled them to do so, and all the spell required was the command word to activate it.

The flat was old and in need of repair, but the landlord was too lazy to fix the leaky kitchen faucet or the cracked linoleum in the bathroom. The little flat had come furnished, thank goodness, because Severus would have never been able to afford furniture on his meager salary, Smithers paid less than Ebenezer Scrooge. The furniture was worn and mismatched, but Snape didn’t care. The last of his savings from his mother’s vault had been used to pay for his fees to the Academy, and since then he had been living frugally. Very frugally.

He walked carefully into the living area, where a worn green upholstered couch rested in front of the fireplace, which was cold and filled with ashes. Severus’s breath hung in misty trails in the air. Beneath his cloak, the baby stirred.

Severus gently set the cloak wrapped baby down on the couch, removed his gloves, and quickly started a fire in the fireplace. In a corner on a table was a tiny fake pine tree decorated with what little ornaments he had saved from the attic after he had sold his childhood home at Spinner’s End. That had provided him with money to buy books and supplies at school plus room and board. He had gotten some of his fees waived due to his extraordinary performance on his NEWTS and entrance exam to the Academy, but even with that he had barely enough money to pay rent for four months on this flat once he had finished his schooling. His current job paid for food and clothes, utilities and rent and precious little else.

But then he was used to that. He had grown up poor and though he was better off now than he had been then, he knew he could have never supported a wife and children on his current salary. He rubbed his eyes and found that he was now wide awake and starving, he could not remember the last time he had eaten anything.

He moved over to the old iron stove and turned it on, grabbing a can of chicken noodle soup from his tiny pantry and putting it on to heat. He also found a tin of evaporated milk and put it on to heat also, figuring the baby could drink that and maybe eat a bit of soup.

He filled his battered coffee pot with water and put it on to perk, and then he went back to see to his houseguest.

All this time the baby had been still within the black cocoon of Snape’s cloak, slowly warming up and becoming more awake as the sleepy lassitude of pre-hypothermia faded. Now he began to sniffle and cough, his tiny nose running. To add to that discomfort he was very hungry having last eaten over six hours before, and wet also.

He soon began to cry, not very loudly, for he had learned that making too much noise meant getting scolded and smacked, but the distressed sound carried in the small flat and brought Severus to his side immediately.

“Okay. Stop that racket. Shhh!” He tried in vain to hush the child, then he gently unwrapped the baby from his cloak. This crying, he noticed was different from the hysterical wails of before, but it made his ears ring. “You know, I don’t even know what you are, a boy or a girl.”

He quickly undid the ties on the blue blanket and found the baby was dressed in some kind of strange smock, one that looked two sizes too big for the little tyke. Severus wrinkled his nose. “Child, you stink. Ugh! You need a new nappy.” He looked about the room, trying to see what he could spare, and saw one of his old Slytherin scarves. “That’ll do.” He quickly transfigured the scarf into a nappy, then went and got a mug of warm water and a soft cloth.

He considered conjuring a pair of nose plugs, then shook his head. He dealt with potions, and some of the ingredients he used smelled as acrid as this. He could deal with it.

The baby was squirming and bawling, and Severus muttered, “All right, give me a minute, I haven’t exactly done this before.” He grimaced and carefully undid the soiled nappy. “Well, now I know you’re a boy,” he remarked. “Don’t you dare pee on me,” he warned as he gently wiped the baby with the warm water. He swore under his breath, for the baby had developed a bad case of diaper rash. When was the last time somebody changed him? “Half a minute, tyke. Let me get some Rash Away salve. I know I’ve got some here.”

He went to the cabinet next to his bed, where he kept his private stock of potions and soon had located the salve. His hands tended to get chafed stirring over a hot cauldron all day and night, so he always kept some on hand. On the couch the baby was coughing and whimpering.

“Hush. Why don’t you practice being quiet?” he said to the baby. “It’s supposed to be a silent night as well as a holy one.” He removed the soiled nappy and then began to apply the salve, which soothed on contact. The baby stopped bawling and gave a sort of contented sigh. “Feel better? Stupid arseholes, to leave you like that all night. Now let’s see if I can put this on you.”

He managed to get the nappy under the baby’s bottom but just as he started to fold it over, something warm and wet hit him in the chest. “What the hell . . .? Ugh! You . . .you bloody great nuisance! How dare you relieve yourself on me? Didn’t I tell you not to do that?” He quickly cast a Cleaning charm over himself, frowning severely at the baby, who made a sound remarkably like a giggle.

Severus put his hands on his hips. “Oh, yes, I’m sure you think it’s funny. Go ahead and laugh, why don’t you? Wouldn’t be the first time.” He quickly went to finish putting the nappy on when the baby pulled his hair.

“Ouch! Now look here, that’s not allowed either. No pulling my hair!”

Instantly, the baby’s lower lip trembled and tears filled the green eyes at his too-sharp tone.

“All right, all right, I’m sorry I yelled at you,” the young man said hastily, wanting to forestall another crying jag. “I can’t believe I just apologized to a little wretch that urinated all over me not two minutes ago. I’m so sleep deprived.” He gently lifted the baby to pull down the long smock and examined the boy for the first time.

He was small for his age, though Snape did not know this, and he had, in addition to the brilliant evergreen eyes, a sweetly rounded little face with a shock of reddish-brown hair, nearly dark enough to be called auburn. “Hmm . . .someone in your family had red hair.” Severus mused, gently smoothing the hair away from the boy’s forehead.

It was then he saw the faint jagged scar.

“What in Merlin’s name?”

He leaned in closer to examine the baby, and saw it was a lightning bolt scar.

A lightning bolt scar. How very strange. Now where did I read something about that before?

He was almost certain he had read somewhere about a lightning bolt scar, but as he went to set the boy back on the couch, he felt the crackle of paper beneath his hand. He reached back and pulled it out and opened it.

In a hasty scrawl were written the following words:

My name is Harry.

Take me home.

Merry Christmas!

Severus stared at the paper and then he growled, “What a Goddamn nerve! Merry Christmas! They dump you in a manger and then say Merry Christmas! That’s just bloody ill!”

Then it hit him.

The baby’s name was Harry.

Just like Lily’s baby. And he had her eyes and hair that was similar, if several shades darker. No. Oh no. It can’t be. Where did I put that blasted copy of the Prophet? I saved it, it had a picture of Lily in it . . .He set the baby on the couch. “Stay here and don’t move. I mean it!”

Then he walked quickly over to his old school trunk and began rummaging through it. Where had he put it? It had to be here . . .

There! He carefully removed the faintly yellowed newspaper and looked at the front article. The headline read Potters Betrayed By Secret Keeper—Slain by He Who Must Not Be Named! Harry Potter Survives! He quickly scanned the rest of the article and found that the child had been marked by the Killing Curse . . .by a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. Further down the page was a picture of the Potter family, James standing behind Lily, who held a fat and happy baby in her arms who had her green eyes and hair that was a deep auburn.

The baby in the manger was Harry Potter.

Lily’s Harry.

Severus was thunderstruck. How had the most famous baby in the wizarding world come to be in a manger in the middle of London? He continued reading and there at the bottom of the article he found a statement saying that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had been sent to stay with relatives—Muggle relatives.

And they left him out in the cold to die. In the name of all that’s holy how could they do that? How could they just abandon their own flesh and blood that way? Then the cynical part of his mind spoke, Your own father would have abandoned or sold you for the price of a bottle of gin if he could have. Remember?

Tobias had been a drunk and always in need of ready cash. Only the fact that Eileen had been around prevented him from doing so. He had taken her pay instead, and then expected her to feed three on half of what she made.

He rose and stuffed the paper back inside his trunk and then went to see to the soup and the milk simmering over the stove.

The baby, uneasy because he was in unfamiliar surroundings, still congested and hungry, began to howl.

The sound grated on Severus’ sensitive ears, and because he was exhausted from work and upset from reading the article, he snapped irritably, “Do you ever do anything else but cry, dammit! You’re just like your father, impatient and demanding.”

Harry, frightened all the more by the harsh tone, just cried harder.

Severus wished he had earmuffs as he poured the soup into a small mug and did the same with the warm milk. He thought the child was old enough to drink from a cup, but supposed he’d have to feed him the soup. He placed the soup and the milk on the table and went over to the couch to pick up the howling nuisance.

To his surprise Harry actually held out his arms to him when Severus bent down to pick him up. “I don’t understand you. I just yelled at you and you still want me to hold you? Why?”

Harry couldn’t answer, but if he had been able to talk, he might have told the weary Potions Master that he was used to people shouting at him and never holding him for long, so having Severus return two or three times to pick him up in the space of an hour was wonderful. Especially because the tall man wasn’t rough when he picked him up. So Harry clung to the other’s robe, because it was warm and he was still cold and though the Tall One had a scary voice, his hands were gentle.

Awkwardly, Severus patted the little back. “Shhh. . . it’s early in the morning, you’ll wake everyone up.”

As if on cue, there came a sharp pounding on the ceiling, causing dust motes to fly through the air, and a very irate voice yelled down through the broken heating duct, “Oi, Snape! What’s the big idea? Shut that damn kid up before I come down and do it for ya! Ya hear?”

By now totally out of patience with screaming neighbors and toddlers, Severus snatched up the broom in the corner beside the window, not a magical one, but an ordinary one he used to sweep the floor, and banged the handle on the ceiling.

“Shut your mouth and go back to sleep, Theo! Just mind your own business! Or else!” He threatened.

He usually kept to himself, and his neighbors didn’t know anything about him, which was how he preferred it, since they were Muggles. But they did know that he had a reputation for being a nasty bugger and tended to avoid him, which was all to the good.

Then he turned to the still sobbing Harry and said, “Now you just hush, Potter! Right now!” He sat down on the single chair with the baby on his lap and tried to feed Harry the soup.

But Harry refused to open his mouth. He had never been fed with a spoon before, Petunia had always found it easier to just give him a bottle, and he had no idea what it was.

“Potter, open up!” Severus ordered. What was the matter with the blasted baby? Was he maybe simple? Severus immediately discarded that thought. It would have been mentioned in the papers and besides, though Potter could be the biggest idiot on the face of the earth, he was not technically learning disabled. And Lily was a brilliant witch, so it was to be hoped that her son had inherited her brains. “Come on, open! It tastes good,” he told the cranky toddler in what he hoped was an encouraging tone.

Harry started to howl and when he opened his mouth again, a desperate Severus popped the spoon with the soup in.

Of course the crying Harry was not expecting anything like that and began to sputter and choke.

Great! Now you’ve choked him to death! Severus scolded himself. He leaned the baby forward and patted his back.

Harry sputtered and gagged, then spit up all over Snape’s leg.

Severus longed to bang his head into a wall. By the time this night was over, he would probably need a new set of robes.

Gritting his teeth, he said, “Let’s try this again, Potter.”

He dredged up the last bit of patience he had stored away for the next twenty years and picked up the spoon and dipped it in the mug. “Okay, Potter, open wide.” He demonstrated by opening his own mouth, hoping the baby would mimic him. The other assistant who worked for Smithers was a mother and she was always going on about how her baby girl imitated everything she did.

Come to think of it, this one’s father had been a great imitator too. Of everyone and everything, the rotten prat!

Harry opened his mouth, but not to eat. Instead he spoke.

“Hawwy.”

Severus nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

“Hawwy. No Pot-er. Me Hawwy.”

Severus gaped. Of all the cheek! Telling me what he wants to be called. Like I care. Then he reasoned that maybe the little tyke would pay attention better if he called him by his first name. “Fine. Harry, open wide. Like this. Mmm.”

Severus spooned up soup and ate it. “Now you.”

Harry shook his head. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“It’s food. Eat it!” Or you can just go hungry, you brat!

“No.”

“Why?”

“Hot.”

“Oh.” Now Severus felt like an idiot. Had he really forgotten to blow on the soup before giving it to the eighteen-month-old? “Err . . .right.” He carefully blew on the soup in the spoon. “Now, open up. Not hot.”

Harry shook his head.

“You stubborn little . . .!” Frustrated, Severus longed to shake the brat. He took several deep breaths and then recited more potions ingredients under his breath. E is for Elecampine, F is for Foxglove, G is for Goldenrod, H is for Hotspur . . .Control, Severus. Keep it together. Then he got an idea. He dipped a finger into the soup mug and rubbed it across Harry’s lips.

Automatically, Harry licked his lips. “Mmm.”

“Good!” Severus dipped up a half-spoonful. This time Harry opened his mouth and Severus gently let the soup flow down the boy’s throat. Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

* * * * * *

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Severus were covered with chicken soup, and Severus swore Harry was wearing more soup than he had eaten. If this was what it was like to feed a baby, no wonder parents looked so haggard. Severus helped Harry to hold the cup, the child attempted to suck the milk. “No, Po—Harry,” he corrected. “Drink it. You should be able to drink from a cup now.”

Harry grew frustrated, he wanted the milk but it wasn’t coming out. He started to whimper and cry.

“No. Oh no, we are not going through this again,” groaned Snape.

Tears spilled out of the child’s eyes, he wanted his bottle not this strange hard thing.

“What do you want?”

“Baba!”

“Baba? What the flaming hell is that?” Severus cried.

Harry wailed louder. “Baba-a-a!”

Think, Snape, think! He’s a baby, how many things can he know?

“Ba-a-a-ba-a-a!”

Suddenly, Harry spied a potions vial on a shelf next to the table. It was shaped almost like a bottle. He pointed to it. “Dere baba!”

“Huh?” Severus looked at what the child was pointing to. “My potion? You know about potions?”

“Baba!”

Suddenly it hit him. A bottle! Potter—Harry—wanted a bottle. Of course! Severus nearly smacked himself in the head. Snape, you dunderhead! Where’s your brain? Even exhausted you should have figured that out!

He pointed his wand and transfigured the spoon into a bottle and then poured in the milk and gave it to the child.

“Baba!” Harry exclaimed happily. He reached out with his chubby fingers and grasped the bottle and drank.

“Thank Merlin!” Severus sighed. He frowned, he was all splattered with soup. He needed to get changed, but how could he do so with the little imp clinging to him? He rose and set the baby on the couch, Harry was still sucking away. “Now you stay there and don’t move, got me? I need to change . . .and so do you.”

But Severus decided to wait before tackling that chore and went to the curtained partition which served as his “bedroom” next to the bathroom and quickly changed into a pair of comfortable lounge pants and a shirt. He then rummaged through his old clothes and found a soft Slytherin shirt and shrank it down to fit Harry.

It was now three-thirty in the morning and Severus was running on his last bit of energy. All he really wanted was to crash on the couch and sleep for half a day. But the unexpected guest sitting on his couch made that impossible.

“All right, boy. Let’s get this off you and put this one on.”

He managed to get the new shirt on Harry without too much fuss, but as he did so, he noticed that the boy was sniffling and his nose was running. He was sucking on the bottle, but every so often he would cough. Aww, hell! The kid’s got a cold. Probably from lying in the cold for so long. Now what?

Severus was not familiar with small children but as a Potions Master he was required to be able to brew potions for every age human and even some for animals like cats and dogs. He knew that there were different variations of potions for toddlers and children and knew that he needed to brew a Children’s PepperUp potion and a mild Cough Elixir.

The only problem was he was exhausted. So he needed to find an alternative.

I could dilute the adult versions of the drafts and mix them with water. That will serve until I’m more awake and can brew proper drafts.

After mixing up the required solutions, he approached the sick toddler.

Harry looked up at him curiously. Was he going to be put in the cupboard now? He clutched his bottle tighter. It was almost empty and now his tummy was full. He sneezed loudly, spraying Severus with mucus.

“You are really disgusting, you know that? First you urinate on me, then you spit soup all over and now this! You’re almost more trouble than you’re worth. Next time maybe I should wear a raincoat.”

If this was what it was like caring for a child, he was surprised parents ever had more than one.

Once again he cleaned himself off with a spell and sat down next to Harry. He gently removed the bottle from the baby’s mouth, and Harry hugged it. “Now, you need to take these potions, tyke, so just open your mouth and swallow.”

He placed the first vial against Harry’s mouth, he had transfigured it to resemble a bottle complete with a nipple.

Harry sucked it, expecting some more lovely milk.

What he got was . . .something utterly yucky!

“Blech!”

He spat the terrible tasting liquid out . . .all over himself and the Tall One.

Severus closed his eyes. He would not lose his temper. A toddler was not going to make him commit murder on Christmas. He felt a vein pulse in his temple. “Merlin help me to not strangle this child. Please!”

He began to count to ten. Over and over. Then he opened his eyes.

Baby Harry was staring at him uncertainly, as if afraid he was going to . . .start screaming or smacking or something.

The wary look in the child’s evergreen gaze told Severus more than words ever could about how he had lived before his relatives had dumped him in the manger. He breathed in and out and recited more ingredients.

“Look. You have to have this potion, I know it tastes terrible but we all have to take medicine we don’t like,” he began, repeating what his mother always said when he had refused to take medicine as a small child.

Once again he tried getting the potion down the reluctant baby’s throat.

He ended up wearing most of it, but he did manage to get Harry to swallow some by holding his mouth shut.

By the time the vials were empty, Severus was ready to start howling, but at least part of the mixtures were inside the cranky child. He cleaned himself and the baby up for the last time and Harry, exhausted, curled up on his lap and fell asleep.

“Thank you, Lord,” murmured Severus, and promptly fell asleep as well.

Only to be awakened some three hours later by Harry crying again.

Severus groaned and wondered if he were in hell. He peeled open one eye and glared at the wailing child. “What’s the problem now? I need sleep, is that too much to ask?”

Harry squirmed and Severus felt him over.

He was feverish and had diarrhea, as Severus discovered when he changed him.

Why me? Why do these things always happen to me? I don’t know how to care for a baby, especially a sick one. And I can’t afford to take him to a Healer. This is just my rotten luck. Other people get kittens and puppies for Christmas. What do I get? An abandoned sick baby that happens to be James Potter’s son! What irony!

He walked over and banged his head into the wall. Behind him a fretful wail rose in the air, disturbing the peaceful silence of Christmas morning. Joy to the world, a child is born, Snape thought sarcastically. Merry Christmas.