Severus had already drank six cups of coffee, three with sugar and milk and three black, because he wanted to save the milk he had left for the baby, by the time eight o’clock rolled around on Christmas morning. In other homes kids were just waking up and running from their beds to see what had been left for them under the tree or in their stockings, hung with care on the mantle or over chairs for those who didn’t have fireplaces. Children were jumping on top of their parents’ beds to wake them to join in the festivities and make breakfast. Severus could recall doing much the same as a child, even though his family had been struggling to make ends meet, he still had enjoyed that one day a year.

But this year, Christmas morning, which had become a single day where he could sleep in and not have to arise at dawn to go to work, had become a nightmare. Harry was cranky and fretful and cried almost nonstop, he was feverish, coughing, and everything Severus tried to feed him went right through him. The poor kid had gone through five nappies in three hours, and Severus was frightened he had caused the alarming digestive upset by giving Harry potions that were too strong for his system.

He had then tried giving the boy a bottle of chamomile tea infused with dandelion extract sweetened with sugar, and Harry seemed willing to take it. Severus knew that if Harry didn’t keep drinking liquids he would become dehydrated, but he didn’t know how to make sure he was drinking enough.

Right then, Harry was dozing half on his lap and half on the couch, while Severus gazed into the flickering flames and sipped his sixth mug of coffee. He was running on caffeine, he had gone beyond exhaustion to a hazy gray realm, and prayed that Harry would be able to finish the chamomile and sleep for awhile.

No rest for the wicked, Severus. Or newly made Potion Masters with a sick child, he reminded himself when Harry started to whimper. Severus looked down and saw that the child had stopped drinking the tea and he went to replace the bottle.

Harry shoved it away.

“Drink, please.”

The boy shook his head mutely.

“It’ll make you feel better.”

But again Harry refused.

Sighing, Severus removed the bottle and placed it on the floor. He touched the back of his wrist to Harry’s forehead and winced. “You’re burning up. And I don’t dare give you an adult strength Fever Reducer. I need to brew more potions but I’m so bloody tired I can hardly keep my eyes open, let alone work with precise measurements.”

He had learned the hard way to never brew while he was tired, because the slightest mistake might result in an exploded potion.

Harry curled up on his side, burrowing against Severus like a lost puppy. He felt terrible, but for the first time ever he could turn to another Tall One and be comforted. He drooled and sneezed all over the couch, and found his face wiped and a towel placed beneath his cheek.

Then a hand was rubbing his back and he sighed softly. This was the first time he could remember a Tall One doing that and it felt so very very good. He nestled closer to the young wizard, and his eyes closed.

Severus looked cautiously down at his charge and saw that he was finally asleep. He breathed a sincere sigh of relief and drained his coffee mug before sending it back to the sink with a wave of his hand. Merlin, but I’m so tired. I just need to sleep for a few hours and then I can brew. Stay asleep, Potter. For the sake of my sanity.

He drifted into a light doze, he had always been a light sleeper, used to keeping odd hours because of his profession.

He felt as if he had just closed his eyes when he was awakened by Harry bawling.

Struggling up from the mists of sleep, he forced his eyes open.

The small clock on the mantle chimed ten o’clock AM.

“God dammit, Potter!” he swore, then he immediately felt guilty, both for swearing on Christmas and for snapping at a sick baby who couldn’t help being fussy and cranky. “Okay, shhh. What’s the matter? Do you need to be changed again? Are you thirsty?”

He lifted the baby and discovered that Harry was hot and smelly.

“Ah, not again,” he groaned, and changed the baby for the sixth time, making sure to apply Rash Away to the little bottom again.

Harry wriggled and squirmed because even though Severus was gentle, he was still tender. “Owwie!”

“I know. Be still.” But Harry tried to move away and he was forced to hold him firmly while he finished the unpleasant task. “Stop moving! I have to do this, or else you’ll hurt worse. It’s for your own good. Understand?” Inwardly he called himself an idiot for speaking to a one-and-a-half year old like he was an adult. He tossed out the soiled nappy, thinking that his nose had by now become inured to the stench of a sick baby. “Come here. You need to drink some more.” At this rate he was going to run out of socks and have to buy more.

He took Harry on his lap and tried unsuccessfully to get him to finish the chamomile tea.

But Harry wouldn’t drink, he was hurting and congested, and he turned his head into Severus’ chest and cried.

Severus didn’t know what to do anymore. Nothing he did made the baby feel better and he was at his wits end. The thin wailing was starting to give him a headache and he feared he was going to start screaming himself in about two minutes. I can’t take this anymore. I really can’t.

“You know, this was not what I imagined when I picked you up from the manger. If I had known . . .never mind, I won’t even go there. I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.” He began to pat the baby’s back, figuring that had soothed him to sleep once before.

But Harry refused to calm, he was sick and just wanted someone to make it go away, and he cried because the Tall One holding him wasn’t able to do so.

“Please stop crying, Potter. Just stop. Please.” Severus said, rocking the screaming baby back and forth. “Before I go stark raving mad and run down the street screaming.”

He knew he shouldn’t blame the little boy for crying, knew that it wasn’t Harry’s fault he was sick, but he couldn’t help feeling irritated. He did feel sorry for the little one, it was a terrible thing to be sick like this, but the crying was a constant reminder that he had failed in his responsibility as a caretaker and Severus wasn’t used to failure. Frustrated and panicky, he rocked the child harder.

I never should have taken him. I should have brought him to Wizarding Child Services. What good am I to him? He’s just getting worse. Frantic, Severus decided to do something he should have done an hour ago, but he was not thinking straight. He was all foggy. “All right. Don’t cry. I’m going to get help.”

His first instinct was to call on Poppy Pomfrey, who was the medi-witch at Hogwarts and with whom he still talked to on occasion. But then he remembered it was a holiday and the witch was most likely at home celebrating Christmas with her family. She had a bevy of nieces and nephews, though she herself was unmarried.

Now what? Who do you call when you have a sick baby on Christmas day? He looked about and then he spied a half-crumpled pamphlet from St. Mungos, it was a list of potions they needed extra batches of, and he had meant to contact them after the holiday and see if he could earn some extra money brewing them on the side.

St. Mungos! Snape, they’ve got an Emergency Floo Network!

He stood up, cradling Harry in the crook of his arm and reached for a handful of Floo powder in the green jar resting on the mantle next to his clock.

He thrust his head into the green flames and shouted, “Hello! My name is Severus Snape and I have a very sick baby. I need some potions right away.”

The white robed intern on duty looked up from her chart and said, “One moment, sir, while I get a Pediatric Healer.” She tapped a small globe on the side of her desk and said, “Healer Faolin, I’ve got a call for you.”

A few moments later, a short plump woman Apparated into the room and knelt next to the fireplace. “Hello, what seems to be the problem?”

“I have a very sick baby and I need some potions for him.”

“Bring him on through then.”

Severus hesitated. He didn’t want anyone to know what baby he had rescued from the manger. If anyone discovered he had the Boy-Who-Lived, his life would become a media circus, and there would be all kinds of fuss and his solitary quiet existence would be shot to hell. Not to mention the fact that he rather liked the idea of looking after this last little bit of Lily . . .when Harry wasn’t screeching in his ear like a bloody banshee, that is.

“I’d rather not move him right now. He’s asleep. If I told you his symptoms, couldn’t you just prescribe a potion regimen for him?”

“Yes, I suppose so, but it’s really best if I examine him . . .” Healer Faolin began.

“I’m a Potions Master and I also have a second degree as a medic,” Severus explained. “I can brew any potions he needs, once I get some sleep.”

Healer Faolin peered hard at the young man’s face and saw that while his eyes were burned holes in his head and his skin pasty from being inside most of the time, he met her gaze squarely and seemed both concerned and determined to make his baby well. “Very well. This isn’t a usual procedure, but if you’re willing to do this and you believe you can give me an accurate diagnosis of his symptoms . . .”

“I can.” Severus began to describe Harry’s condition, explaining that this was his cousin’s child and had come to him with a cold and had later developed a fever and diarrhea. He even admitted how he had tried to dose the child himself using diluted PepperUp potion and asked if that might have caused Harry to become even sicker.

“No, he was probably showing signs before that, especially if you couldn’t get him to eat even though he seemed hungry. Usually these stomach flus come on quickly. I’m going to give you a Children’s Fever Reducer, to be given twice a day, a Decongestive Rub to put on his chest, it’s much easier than trying to get him to swallow a draft and works just as well to loosen up the phlegm in his chest and make him cough it out, a Baby Anti-Diarrhea Elixir, give him one dose now and the next after his next bowel movement, after that once a day for three days. Mix it in with this Nutrient Solution, it also has a Stomach Soother in it, he won’t mind the taste and feed him that plus warmed milk and broth.”

“Is it safe to give him a bath?”

“Yes, but lukewarm water only and dry him thoroughly.” She instructed. “Do you need anything else?” she asked, thinking that the poor guy looked like he was about to collapse.

“I . . .yes . . .I need some more nappies, my cousin didn’t give me enough to last with a sick child,” Severus admitted, flushing slightly.

“Here.” She snapped her fingers and a stack of fresh nappies appeared, neatly wrapped. “And here’s a baby medicine dropper, it’s much easier to give them potions that way, they swallow and don’t spit them up.” She added it to the nappies and then summoned the required potions. “There you go, Mr.—”

“Snape,” Severus replied. “I’m registered with the Society of Potions Masters if you need to check my credentials. Thank you.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Snape. If you need me to examine him later on or he gets worse, don’t hesitate to call me back.”

Severus reached a hand through the flames and picked up the items and then departed.

Harry was coughing and whining softly by then, making a “Mum-mum-muh,” sound. He was leaning his head on Severus’ shoulder, mouthing his shirt, his little hands gripping the back of the wizard’s shirt in a death grip.

“All right then, Po—Harry,” Severus caught himself. “Let’s get these down you so you can start feeling better. Before my patience totally evaporates.”

He returned to the couch and sat down, placing the cranky child upon his knee. “Hey. Look at me.” Severus ordered quietly.

Harry snuffled into his sleeve and Severus grimaced. What do I look like, Potter, your own private hanky? He gestured with his wand and the Nutrient Potion poured itself into the bottle and then Severus took the vial of Anti-Diarrhea Elixir and mixed it into the Nutrient Potion, shaking it briskly to make sure all was blended together well. “There. Want a bottle, imp?” He held the bottle out to Harry, who had now turned to look at him.

“Baba,” Harry cooed. It seemed to be his favorite word.

“Yes. Want it?”

Harry nodded and reached for it. He was now really thirsty and as soon as he had the bottle in his grip, he started to suck. This tasted good! He drank some more.

“Good job!” Severus told him, relieved that he was drinking at last and hoping the potion worked quickly. He ruffled Harry’s deep auburn hair.

Harry finished the bottle in record time and then burped. Severus waited about five minutes before reaching for the medicine dropper and the vial of Fever Reducer. “Now, open up and don’t give me a hard time, okay?” He filled the dropper and waited till Harry opened his mouth a bit before inserting the dropper and tilting the boy’s head back. “Bottom’s up. That’s it. Swallow.”

Harry grimaced, but he didn’t try to spit it out, mainly because it had already gone down his throat.

Then Severus laid him down on the couch and pulled up the shirt and rubbed the third potion all over the baby’s chest. It smelled of mint and a bit of camphor, but it was not unpleasant. Harry wriggled and gurgled, making an odd face at his caregiver.

It was a moment before Severus recognized that the baby was smiling at him. In the twenty-four or so hours since he’d brought the foundling home, Harry had been crying for over half of that time, and the young man had grown accustomed to seeing an expression of distress on the little face more often than not.

But this was definitely a smile, thought the astonished young wizard, as the smile grew broader. Harry was smiling.

At him.

Severus felt as if he had been handed the moon.

Tentatively, because he was not much accustomed to being joyful, Snape smiled back.

He gently tucked his shirt, which was more like a nightshirt, down and Harry sat up and held out his arms. “Hol’ Hawwy.”

For an instant, Severus froze, unable to believe that the little mite actually wanted to be held by him, especially after he had yelled at him and shoved nasty potions down his throat. But apparently the baby held no grudges and those pleading evergreen eyes caused a strange feeling to stir in his chest.

“You have your mother’s eyes, you know.” He told Lily’s son. “And her hair too.”

“Hol’.” Harry repeated, and then reached for Severus.

“Okay.” His long-fingered hands caught the baby and pulled him close.

Harry nestled beneath his chin, laying his head upon Severus’ chest, where he could hear the beating of the Potion Master’s heart. He was warm and feeling a bit better and sleepy, so he curled up, his knees to his chin and his bottom thrust out, breathing in the odor of the salve upon his chest, and went to sleep.

Severus looked down at the child snuggled against him and felt something he had never felt before.

Protective.

This child needed him like no one ever had before. It was a strange feeling, being responsible for another life, one so fragile, so dependent, so trusting.

He wasn’t sure if he liked it. The responsibility loomed before him like a black hole. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it.

But at the same time it felt good to be needed. Good to be wanted. He had not felt wanted since his mother had passed away three years ago.

Yawning, Severus leaned back against the couch and shut his eyes. There would be time later for introspection. Right now he just wanted one thing for Christmas.

A good night’s—or day’s—sleep.

* * * * * *

Harry and his new caretaker slept for eight strength-restoring hours and when they awoke, there was a dusting of snow outside and both felt immensely better now that they had gotten some much-needed sleep. After changing Harry again and giving him some more of the Fever Reducer and the second dose of the Anti-Diarrhea/Nutritive mixture, Severus felt like eating something.

So he took Harry into the kitchenette and fixed himself some coffee and a sandwich, which he devoured down to the last crumb. “I’ll need to go shopping tomorrow,” Severus said quietly, thinking that it was nice to have someone to talk to, even if the baby couldn’t talk back. “But first I’ll need some more potions. These will only last me until tomorrow.”

He looked down at Harry, knowing he couldn’t allow the baby to get too near his cauldron, but also not knowing where to put him so he would be safely out of the way. Finally, he decided to put Harry on the couch, with a Boundary Charm to keep him safely upon the furniture, and then he turned on the radio. Since it was a Muggle radio, Severus only got a few stations, but one of those was playing Christmas music.

“All right, Harry. I need to go and brew potions, so you just stay here and . . .sleep or play with your toes or whatever you do. Here’s a bottle of milk.” He gave the boy his bottle and hoped Harry would simply drink and go to sleep.

But Harry, while a bit sleepy, was not tired enough to fall asleep right then, and he wanted Severus to keep holding him.

He held out his arms. “Hol’!”

Severus shook his head. “I can’t. I’m busy. Lie down and drink your bottle.”

Harry repeated the gesture. “Hol’ Hawwy!”

“Later.” Snape turned and walked over to the far corner of the flat, where he had a very small but efficient potions lab set up, just large enough to brew his own personal stock.

Hurt, Harry watched the Tall One stride away and tried to climb off the couch, but found he was unable to do so. Frustrated, he began to cry.

Severus halted. He would never be able to brew with that awful bawling. He turned around and called, “Potter, stop that noise! I just need a half-an-hour. Now hush! Go to sleep, for heaven’s sake!”

Harry wailed, trapped on the couch, holding his arms out.

The radio began to play “Blue Christmas” sung by Elvis.

“Hol’ Hawwy!”

Aggravated, Snape marched back over to the couch. “I said later! Now quiet down before I—” he halted, for his words had been almost the same ones his father used to say to him when he cried as a child. Usually right before he delivered a slap to Severus’s face or backside. Inwardly, he cringed. He did not want to become like that man in any way shape or form. Not ever.

Harry wept, pinning him with his huge tear-filled mournful eyes.

“Ahh, damn your eyes, Potter!” the Potions Master cried, throwing up his hands. He simply had no resistance when Harry gazed at him that way. But at the same time he knew he needed to start brewing now, if he didn’t want to remain up all night. Good thing tomorrow was Sunday and the apothecary was closed for the holiday.

Harry held out his arms again.

Severus hit himself in the forehead. He was such a dunderhead! It was Christmas and what did all little children get for Christmas?

Toys.

Harry needed something to play with.

But Severus had long ago put away all childish things and had nothing to amuse a child. Especially not one that wanted to be held and snuggled by him of all people. What did little kids his age like to play with? Snape wondered. He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. He had recalled his co-worker, Amanda Truegood, telling him once that she had gotten a soft plush bear for her daughter and she slept with it each night.

Severus transfigured one of his extra pillows into a soft huggable bear that he wouldn’t have been seen dead with. It was a reddish brown and had bright button eyes and a pleasing expression. As a whimsical afterthought, he stuck a replica of his own black robes upon the bear and floated it over to Harry.

“Here. Play with Professor Hush-a-bye.” Snape did not where that name had come from, but supposed it might have had to do with the fact that he hoped the bear would hush the child’s crying and encourage Harry to sleep.

Harry stared at the soft bear for a long moment. He had never had anything of his own. Only Dudley had ever been allowed toys.

“Go on. Take it,” Severus urged impatiently. Honestly, one would think the boy had never played with a toy before. Then he recalled where he had found this child and suspected that if his relatives were the sort to leave a baby to freeze to death, they might have also never given him any kind of toy.

Slowly, Harry reached out and touched the soft bear. When he was not screamed at and thrown into a dark cupboard, he put his head on the bear. Then he brought his other arm around and hugged it. Again he paused, wondering if he was going to have it snatched away.

But no one yelled or pinched him and Harry dared to look up at the big man. “Hawwy’s?”

“Yes, Harry’s bear. Hold it and play with it.”

“Hawwy’s . . .bea . . .” Harry said blissfully. He hugged the bear for dear life.

“Merry Christmas.” Snape said quietly, and a smile tugged irresistibly at the corner of his mouth, watching the baby holding the plush toy. Could this be the first present the baby had ever received? From the way Potter reacted, it certainly seemed so.

Severus waited until Harry seemed absorbed with the bear then he slipped back to the corner of the room and began to brew.

* * * * * *

Half-an-hour later, Severus had brewed fresh batches of the Fever Reducer and the Baby Anti-Diarrhea Elixir. He would brew some more of the Decongestive Rub tomorrow, since the salve would not run out as quickly as the other potions. He also had some Nutrient Potion on hand and so could brew that later as well.

He returned to check up on Harry and found the child asleep, one hand curled about the bear and the other holding a half-empty bottle.

Asleep, Harry resembled a baby angel, his cheek soft and rosy, his lashes a dark smear against his porcelain-white skin, his lips working a bit even in sleep. His auburn hair gleamed with a copper light in the glow of the lamps above and Severus just stood there, looking at the child he had rescued, the son of both his only love and his bitter rival. The child he had saved once again from death’s eternal embrace.

He felt his heart swell with unfamiliar emotions. Affection, pity, and regret.

How could he begin to care for this child when he could barely afford to feed himself on his salary? How could he let him stay when he worked twelve hour shifts two days a week and eight the rest? Who could he get to watch him?

It’ll never work, Severus. You’ll have to . . .look for someone else to take him. An adoption agency or a foster home. He needs someone who can be with him most of the time, someone who can give him everything he needs and wants. And however much you want to, you can’t, his conscience reproved bleakly.

The logical part of his mind agreed with his conscience. But the other part of his mind, the emotional part, refused to listen to logical argument. That part argued that Harry might not be any better with a foster family, look at how his relatives had treated him. They had been worse than inhumane. Who’s to say that couldn’t happen again? How could I risk that?

He couldn’t. But barring a miracle, how could he keep a child on his meager salary? Finding another job right now was out of the question, since few apothecaries had need of another Potions Master and one who was fresh out of his apprenticeship besides. Smithers had been the only one willing to hire him, and Severus now knew why. His boss got cheap labor and someone to snipe at whenever business was bad, which wasn’t often.

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and Smithers will undergo a heart transplant and give me a raise for Christmas,” Severus muttered sarcastically. He snorted at his own ridiculous fancy. He had until tomorrow night to think about what to do about Harry.

It would be one of the hardest decisions he had ever made.

Sighing, Severus padded into the bathroom to take a shower. He would give Harry a bath when next he woke, but right then he needed hot water and soap desperately. He began to run the water, praying that Lily’s child would stay asleep while he cleaned up.

He could just hear the strains of “Blue Christmas” on the radio again. “I’ll have a blue Christmas without you . . .”

Severus thought ironically how true that statement was, if he did what his conscience suggested and turned Harry over to some wizarding adoption agency. It curdled his stomach just thinking about it. But what choice did he have? He had to do what was best for the child, didn’t he?

Ignoring the sudden pang of despair that stabbed him, Snape stepped into the shower and let the hot water pound down on him, unknotting all of his stiff muscles and relaxing them, the lyrics to “Blue Christmas” replaying themselves in his head. The water warmed his skin, but inside he felt cold.