Foxfire Hall

January 15, 1983:

Severus was not having a very good morning. Which was not too surprising as he hadn’t been having a very good week. He was working upon an experimental draft over at the lab to try and reduce the effects of Auto Immune Syndrome in wizards and slow down the progression of the disease so those who had it didn’t die quickly. Most of the wizards and witches who had that disease tended to die in their early fifties and sixties or sooner, since their magical core became burnt out trying to boost their failing immune system against all the various diseases.

It was a very ambitious project, some of his coworkers would have said too ambitious, despite Severus’ status as the youngest and most brilliant Potions Master of his time, according to an article in Potions Weekly. While Severus didn’t mind the recognition, he would have preferred to be kept out of the public eye. People written about in papers tended to be scrutinized and that was the last thing Severus wanted. His reasons for attempting the cure of AIS were personal, as his mother had died from that disease, or rather the case of double pneumonia that she had contracted and been unable to fight off.

He had vowed that someday he would find a cure for the disease, and he meant to keep that promise. Except his research wasn’t cooperating and this was his fifth attempt at making a draft in three days, only to have it fail. He hated it when he couldn’t get a potion right the first time, it irked him to no end. His analytical brain was always searching for solutions and he knew he could solve this dilemma, but right then he was grumpy because it was proving knotty and he was stuck.

And the weather was also adding to his grumpiness. It had snowed cauldrons last night and the estate was wrapped in a blanket of snow, covered in a white cloak, save for right near the house and Drusilla’s garden. Now Severus liked snow in moderate amounts, but this had been a blizzard, one of the worst those in the North could remember, and it was accompanied by a whipping wind and frigid temperatures for most of the night. The morning showed sun, but it did little except cause the snow to sparkle invitingly. Severus hated the cold.

So he remained quiet and surly that Saturday morning, eating his breakfast just to fuel his body and not out of enjoyment, though he normally enjoyed Lina’s ham and cheese omelet with fried potatoes.

Next to him, three-an-a-half year old Harry babbled away to Augustus about snowmen who came to life, like in the Christmas song “Frosty the Snowman”, which Harry had heard about a hundred times over the Christmas holidays when he had gone shopping with Severus in Muggle London that year. That had proven quite an experience for both of them, they had eaten at a café, gone into a small shop of curiosities to purchase a gift for Augustus, since he had a fondness for Muggle objects, and then Harry had spotted the toy store.

Severus had taken him inside and allowed him to pick out a small toy and visit with the store’s Father Christmas. But Harry had become enraptured with the life-sized snowman they had in the front of the store, which was animated and greeted customers with a loud, “Come on in! It’s warm inside and welcome to our store! Hope you enjoy shopping, my name is Buttons.”

The toddler had insisted on going back to visit the snowman and when it was time to leave, had pitched a major fit, the worst Severus had ever had to deal with in public. He had wanted to buy the snowman and when Severus tried to explain why he couldn’t, had thrown himself on the floor and proceeded to bawl his lungs out.

“I WANNA TAKE HOME THE ‘NOWMAN! NOW, PAPA!”

Severus had been mortified, though he really should have expected it, since Harry had been growing tired and cranky, as he’d missed his afternoon nap. And lately, the little imp had been testing him and Augustus by whining and throwing tantrums. At home, Severus would have simply walked away, or picked the child up and put him in time out to cool down, and then given the stubborn child a scolding after he’d stopped howling. Here, though, people were watching him and he feared that if he tried to drag Harry out of the store, someone might think he was kidnapping him, because when he had tried to lift the little terror, Harry had screeched,” LEAVE ME ‘LONE! I NOT GO! GO AWAY! YOU’S NOT MY PAPA!”

He had gotten several dirty looks from an elderly woman and her daughter and had wished the earth could open up and swallow him. He had wondered if perhaps Augustus and he had spoiled the boy, he hadn’t thought so, Harry didn’t get everything he wanted and never when he shouted at them or demanded it, but here he was throwing the biggest fit of his life right in the middle of Christmas shopping.

Severus had knelt down and glared at his screaming terror and snapped, “Harry Snape, if you don’t stop it right now, you’re getting nothing from Father Christmas at all except coal. Do you hear me? Nothing!”

Harry continued to wail about the snowman, ignoring the dire threat.

Severus longed, for the first time ever, to cast a Silencing Charm on his son and give him a spanking. He had always thought kids who threw tantrums must be spoiled brats without any sense of discipline and yet here was Harry doing the exact same thing! He was sure everyone on the street could hear his son screaming. Over a fake department store snowman.

Severus could feel himself start to grow red behind the ears and his frustration continued to mount. He began reciting potion ingredients super quick, struggling to contain his temper. H is for holly, I is for ice dragon talon, J is for jabberwocky skin, K is for kitsune fur, L is for lobelia, M is for manticore stingers . . .why does this have to happen to me now, in front of everyone in London? You couldn’t wait till we were home to pitch a fit, you blasted brat? Right now you’re just like your father, who never missed a chance to humiliate me in public at school, he thought resentfully.

Then he got a brainstorm, and he prayed it would work. He stood up and pointed to the bawling, red-faced, flailing boy and said, loud enough to be heard over the banshee shrieking, “Everyone take a look at Henry! Look at him, having a tantrum like a baby! See? Everyone come and watch him acting like a whiny little baby!”

People did start to come over and one young woman with two of her own said, “My, that big boy really has become a little baby!” to her children, who were gaping at Harry in awe. Then she winked at Severus.

Her son, a tow-headed little boy looking slightly older than Harry, pointed and said, “Mummy, he really is a big baby!”

Suddenly Harry stopped screaming and sat up, his eyes wide. “No, I is not! You are!”

“Nuh-uh! Crybaby!” cried the other boy.

“No! Don’t see me!” Harry hid his face in his hands, he was now embarrassed and ashamed.

“Such a shame, to see a big boy acting like a baby,” muttered an old woman disapprovingly as she pushed her cart by.

“No, I’m not a baby!” Harry cried, and he went to hide behind the snowman.

Severus lifted him up before he could do so. “We’re going home, young man. You need a nap and maybe a bottle too, you naughty little imp.”

“No! I’m not tired!” Harry sobbed. “Bottles is for babies, Papa! And I’m big! I don’ wanna nap! I wanna 'nowman like Buttons!”

Severus began to hastily walk to the exit, Harry held firmly over his shoulder. “Little boys who act like babies and throw tantrums don’t get snowmen. All they get is time out, naps, and bottles.”

“Papa, I’m three-an-a-half! That’s not a baby!”

“No? I couldn’t tell from the way you’ve been acting, young man,” Severus told him bluntly, striding rapidly down the pavement, searching for a place he could step out of view and Apparate from. “Only babies throw fits like that. I’m very disappointed in you.”

Harry began to cry again, quietly, his head pressed into Severus’s shoulder. He hated when his papa used that tone and those words. And he didn’t want people to think he was a baby! He could talk almost as good as a growed-up now and used the potty and walked and could put on his own shirt. Babies couldn’t do that.

When they arrived back at the hall, Severus sent Harry to put his nose in the corner for four minutes and Hotspur took his packages upstairs to be wrapped later, shaking his head sadly at the young master’s misbehavior. Augustus was taking a nap, leaving Severus time to deal with his son, and after a sound scolding, he managed to put Harry down for a nap as well. Then he had time to himself for a bit to wrap presents and wonder how long Harry would continue to drive him to drink.

The holiday came and went, and all was peaceful at the manor, Severus’ birthday came and they celebrated it with a dinner and a cake Lina had baked and handmade cards and drawings from Harry, as well as a brand new expensive self-stirring cauldron from Augustus, plus new enchanted robes from Harry, since after three years the enchantments wore off and you had to buy new ones, because the spells had to be woven directly into the cloth and not applied afterwards, one reason why Potions Masters preferred somber colors, because the darker colors took the spelled cloth better and showed less spills. And black was always dignified.

Harry hadn’t mentioned snowmen since the incident at the store, and Severus thought he had forgotten about them, until the snow fell. Then Harry remembered the snowman, and was now gabbling away to Augustus about living snowmen while Severus nursed his third cup of coffee and tried to stave off a headache.

“Grandpa, can you come an’ make a ‘nowman with me?” Harry was now asking Augustus, who looked flabbergasted. His speech patterns and vocabulary had improved dramatically over the last year and a half, and he was frightfully smart for his age. He loved books and being read to, would sit still for two hours and listen to his grandfather read or tell him stories. Severus had taught him the alphabet and how to write his name and count to forty and to recognize simple potion ingredients and plants, mindful of what had happened with the holly berries a year and a half previous.

“Henry, lad, I’m a bit too old to go out and make snowmen with you,” laughed the other wizard. “My knees ache something fierce in weather like this and my old bones aren’t what they used to be. Maybe some other time.”

Harry sighed. He so wanted to play in the snow and build a snowman just like the one he had seen in the toy store. He turned to Severus who had been silent all through breakfast. “Papa, will you come n’make a ‘nowman with me? Please?”

Severus groaned inwardly, he had known that was coming. And what could he say, that he was cross and sulky and didn’t feel like it? He bit his lip. “Go and ask Lina to help you get your snow clothes on, Harry, and let me finish my last cup of coffee.”

Harry jumped off his little booster chair. “Yay!” he shrilled, and took off running towards the stairs, yelling, “Lina, c’mere! I needs you to help me find my ‘now stuff!”

“Please,” Severus reminded sharply. “Manners, Harry.”

“Oops. Please help me, Lina!” the little imp corrected himself.

“Of course, Little One,” Lina said, popping into view with Harry’s winter coat, hat, mittens, and boots, as well as a pair of insulated leggings. All of the clothes were spelled to keep the little boy warm in the coldest weather. His winter gear was colored blue and green, bright colors so you could see him in the snow.

While Severus finished his coffee and mentally steeled himself to go out in the bloody cold, Harry prattled to Lina about Frosty and how he came to life with a magic hat.

“Oh my, young master. A magic hat?”

“Yup. Do we have a magic hat somewhere, Lina?”

The elf giggled. “Ah, we might. This is a wizard’s house after all.”

She tweaked his nose and then pulled his cap down over his ears. Harry still resembled his mother in his coloring, though the shape of his face was a bit like James’ and he seemed to have inherited his father’s penchant for mischief and intrepid manner, a fact that dismayed Severus, and which he tried to curb as much as he could.

“Can you look for one, Lina? Please?” he added, giving the elf his most winsome smile, one that never failed to make her heart melt.

“Harry, Lina doesn’t have time to go looking for a magic hat,” Severus snapped. “A snowman can be made without one.”

“But Papa,” whined the toddler. “Without the magic hat, the ‘nowman can’t come to life.”

“Harry, snowmen don’t come to life. That’s just a silly song. Make-believe.”

“No, it’s not,” Harry answered back. “The ‘nowman in the toy store came alive an’ said hello to me.”

“Mind that tone, young man,” Augustus reproved before Severus could open his mouth. There was nothing the elder Prince hated more than a disrespectful child.

Harry heaved an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, sir,” he muttered. “But it’s true!” he added stubbornly. “You saw it, Papa!”

“Harry, that wasn’t a living snowman, just a Muggle toy,” Severus told him.

Harry shook his head. He couldn’t understand why his father didn’t believe him. He had touched the snowman in the store and it had felt warm, like a person, not cold like snow. It had been alive. But he sensed he wasn’t going to win this argument and rather that get into trouble, he stopped pressing the issue.

He was just happy he was going outside to play in the snow with his papa, who had been rather short-tempered and grumpy of late. Maybe building the snowman would cheer him up, he reasoned.

Lina finished dressing him and then Harry called, “Papa, I’m all ready! C’mon!”

Severus drained his coffee cup and rose reluctantly, his mouth twisting into a frown. He was looking forward to relaxing in front of the fire with a good journal or something, not going out into the freezing cold to build a snow sculpture. Bloody hell, how do I get talked into these things? Why can’t I just learn to say no? I hate the winter. It’s the eyes. Lily almost always could persuade me to do anything with her beautiful eyes. Blast and damn it, Snape, but you’re a pushover. Why couldn’t he have inherited Potter’s eyes?

Grumbling under his breath about how he’d rather have undergone nose surgery rather than go out and freeze his arse off building some stupid snowman, Severus pulled on his coat and gloves and hat and his warmest pair of boots.

“All right, Harry. Let’s go and get this over with.”

“Yay! Now we’ll have some fun!”

“Oh, joy,” Severus rolled his eyes. “Whoever invented snowmen was cracked in the head.”

Harry laughed. “Papa, nobody invented ‘nowmen. They was always there.”

“Oh really?” said Severus skeptically. “How do you know?”

“The ‘nowman at the store tol’ me,” his son replied smugly. Then he took off through the foyer, whooping.

“Impudent rascal,” chuckled Augustus. “Got an answer for everything. Eileen was like that.”

Severus sighed. “Lucky you. Using your “old age” as an excuse to avoid going outside.”

Augustus smirked. “Why, Severus, show some respect. I am ninety-six.”

“And fitter than a man half your age, you sly fox!” his grandson snorted. “You’re an Elemental Master, I’m sure you can keep yourself toasty warm with your command of fire and build a snowman at the same time.”

The elder Slytherin tapped the bridge of his nose. “Age hath its privileges, young man. Off with you now, and have fun. You’re too young to be a mope.”

“Ha! Look who’s talking!” Severus shot back. Then he followed his son out into the chilly wilderness.

* * * * * *

After half-an-hour of rolling a large snowball around and around, Severus decided that the Vikings had been right when they said hell was a place of eternal dark and cold, ice, and snow. He was certain he was somehow in it, being tormented by a demonic cherub who enjoyed pelting him with snow and deliberately tripping him and laughing as he fell face-first into a snowdrift. The snow was up to Severus’s knees, which made it difficult to walk through, and still quite powdery, which made it hard to form a good compact snowball.

Until he cheated and used magic to harden the snow somewhat, enough so he could manage to form three decent balls of snow and Harry helped stack them. Then Harry called for Hotspur to come and bring carrots and buttons and a scarf and ripped off two sticks off a rhododendron to use for arms.

“Here, young master,” Hotspur handed a carrot, an old Slytherin scarf, and a bag of buttons to Harry. “And this is for you, sir. Hot apple cider with a bit of brandy. Warms the blood.”

Severus took the steaming mug and said gratefully, “You’ve earned a raise, Hotspur. Thank you very much.”

The elf smiled. “Not at all, Master Sev. Always a pleasure to serve you.” He bowed and vanished.

Severus sipped the cider and watched as Harry placed the carrot in the middle of the face, along with black buttons for the eyes and mouth, plus a row down the middle. “Very nice.”

Harry beamed, his cheeks reddened from the cold.

“Now all’s we need is a magic hat.”

“Merlin’s beard, Harry! How many times do I have to go through this?” Severus growled irritably. “There is no such thing as a live snowman.”

Harry pouted. “Is too!”

“Now that’s enough.” Severus said sternly. “Come inside and get warmed up, and no more talk about snowmen coming to life.”

But Harry wouldn’t. “Not yet. We haven’t made him a dog.”

“A dog? What does a snowman need with a dog?”

“A dog’s man’s best friend, Papa,” Harry said in a don’t-you-know-anything tone.

Severus gritted his teeth. “You’re really pushing it, tyke.” He waved his wand and a snow dog appeared beside the snowman. “There. Happy now, or do we need to make a whole bloody snow family?”

“Can you do that?” Harry asked.

“No. I’m tired and freezing,” grumbled the Potions Master. “I’ve had enough of the snow for one day.”

“Aww!” Harry groaned. “I don’t wanna come inside. I wanna play in the snow!”

“You’ll be frozen to death.”

“Nuh-uh. I’m warm ‘nough.”

“Brat!” Severus scowled, and tossed a snowball at Harry’s face.

But the little boy just laughed and brushed it off. He loved the snow. “Can I stay, Papa?”

“Fine. But only for another half-an-hour. Then you come in and get warmed up, no arguments.”

“Okay.” Harry agreed.

Severus quickly drew a Boundary Charm in the snow, so Harry wouldn’t be tempted to wander off and go exploring, extending it some ten feet about the place where the snowman and the snow dog were. Then he Apparated back inside, and asked Hotspur to remind him when a half-an-hour was up so he could go out and fetch his son.

Augustus looked up when Severus reappeared near the fireplace in the drawing room. “Having fun in the snow, Severus?”

“It’s bloody wonderful, Grandfather. Can’t you tell?” he drawled sarcastically.

“Don’t be a grouch, Severus Snape,” he scolded, smothering a laugh.

“I hate the cold.” Severus hissed, stripping off his wet outerwear and handing it to a waiting Lina to hang up on the coat rack in the front hall.

“Where’s the little tyke?”

“Still outside, playing. He must have snow in his veins or something.”

“He probably takes after Drusilla. She was never cold in the deepest heart of winter and never hot even in the tropics. One of the advantages of being a Stormcaller.” Augustus said, eying his grandson shrewdly. He knew that there was a secret Severus was keeping from him, something that had to do with Harry, but as yet he could not put a finger on what it was. But eventually he would figure it out. He did not like unsolved mysteries, especially concerning members of his family, and while he respected Severus’ privacy, he did not like suspecting that his grandson had lied to him deliberately. He was hoping that eventually Severus would come to trust him enough to reveal whatever it was about Harry to him and not make him pry.

Severus nodded, then sat down on the sofa in front of the fire and drank some more of the brandied cider. “I wish I had half the energy the little imp does.”

“So do I,” Augustus chuckled. “Oh, to be young again and innocent.”

“I find it hard to imagine you ever being young.”

Augustus snorted. “I could say the same about you sometimes.”

Severus scowled. “Just because I don’t enjoy playing in the snow . . .” he trailed off because he knew his grandfather was correct. The only time he had ever been permitted to be a child had been in those stolen hours with Lily. Living with an abusive alcoholic father had forced him to grow up too fast and too hard. His childhood had been brief and not one that he wished to remember.

Augustus, sensing he had struck a nerve, said apologetically, “But you’re a good father and a responsible one, Severus. The little tyke needs that.”

Severus smiled, pleased that his grandfather had noticed.

Meanwhile, Harry was trying to make his snowman and snow dog come to life like the one he had seen at the toy store. He didn’t have a magic hat, so he’d given the snowman his own, and put his scarf about the snow dog’s neck. But so far nothing was happening.

The three-and-a-half-year-old scowled at the snowy figures. “Why don’t you come to life? I know you can. I saw you in the store. Come on, Frosty. You can do it.”

Then he looked at the snow dog. “C’mon, Snowflake. You gots my dad’s special scarf on. Come alive! I really really wanna play with you, it’s so boring out here all by myself.”

He glared hotly at the snow dog, until he felt a funny feeling in his chest and something hot and tight behind his eyes, almost like a headache. I wish . . .I wish . . .you’d come to life . . . He scrunched his eyes shut tight and pushed at the funny hot feeling behind his eyes, pulling it up from his chest and shoving it out through his hands. His hands grew warm for an instant, then he felt an odd tingle in his fingertips.

He rubbed them together and opened his eyes.

The snow dog was moving!

It still resembled a snow sculpture, but it was blinking its eyes and panting and wagging its tail. It shook its floppy ears and barked joyously.

“Whoo-hoo! I knew you’d come to life!” Harry cried in delight. “C’mere, boy!”

The snow dog raced over to him and jumped up on him, giving him a frosty lick before getting down and racing about him in circles, barking. The scarf trailed on the ground. He seemed to shimmer and glow from within.

Harry ran after him, but found he could hardly run as quickly on top of the snow, and kept falling down. Whenever that happened, the snow dog would come and lick him.

Harry played tag and catch snowballs with the dog for a few minutes before he decided to go into the house and show his doubting father that he had been right—snow dogs really did come to life. “C’mere, Snowflake!” he called and unlike Mystic, the snow dog came when called.

Harry held open the screened in door to the conservatory, and the snow dog shot through the door, leaving snowy wet footprints all over the freshly scrubbed floor.

Harry ran to catch up, but Snowflake was quicker than he thought and raced out the conservatory doorway and into the hall.

Just then, Mystic happened to be crossing the hallway, on his way to the kitchen to beg tidbits from a soft-hearted Lina.

Snowflake, being a dog, immediately gave chase.

Mystic looked up in horror at the snowy monstrosity coming at him, arched his back, hissed, and fled.

Snowflake barked and tore off after the cat.

“No! Snowflake, stop!” Harry yelled. “Musn’t chase Grandpa’s kitty!”

But the snow dog, like any real dog, was hot on the scent, and paid no attention to the little human shouting at him. Snowflake chased poor Mystic right up on top of a tall indoor fig tree, and the cat perched awkwardly in the top branch, hissing and yowling.

The snow dog yelped and wagged its tail, and snow flew everywhere as he shook himself.

“What on earth is going on out here?” Augustus demanded, cross from having been woken from his nap. “Sounds like the London zoo has taken up residence in my house.”

“No! Bad puppy!” Harry was yelling.

He tried to drag Snowflake away by the scarf.

“Blessed Merlin!” exclaimed Augustus upon seeing the odd tableau before him. “Is that a . . .snow dog?”

“Hi, Grandpa! Look at my new friend. His name’s Snowflake an’ he just came to life.”

“Came to life?”

“Uh-huh. See, I tol’ Papa that happens.”

“What happens?” Severus demanded. “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?” Then he gaped at the snow dog dripping all over the floor. “Great Merlin!”

“See, Papa! I was right! They really do come to life.” Harry said triumphantly.

Severus stood there gaping like he had been slammed in the jaw. “But . . .how is this possible? Snowmen . . .I mean dogs . . .can’t come to life.”

“Can too!” Harry sang maddeningly. “I wished for him to come alive an’ then he did.”

“Wished for . . .Merlin’s beard! You performed accidental magic!” Severus exclaimed.

“Huh?”

He turned to Augustus. “Grandfather, he’s had his first bout of accidental magic. And he’s only three. That means he’ll be a powerful wizard someday.” Severus sounded pleased as punch.

“Yes, I see that.” Augustus was amazed that his great-grandson had manifested such talent at such an age too, but he was less than pleased at the trail of icy water the snowy dog was leaving all over his floor, which was made from expensive heart-of-oak wood.

The snow dog jumped up at Mystic, who yowled crossly, swiped at the dog’s chilly nose, then jumped off the tree and landed right on Augustus’ shoulder, digging his claws into the wizard’s robes.

“Ouch! Mystic, for heaven’s sake, watch the claws,” Augustus cried, trying to remove the terrified cat from his shoulder.

Snowflake rushed at the old man, upset at having his fun ruined and attempted to climb Augustus, making the old man yelp, for the snow dog’s body was wickedly cold and yet it was starting to melt and the icy water went right through his robes. Now it was the elder Prince’s turn to bellow grumpily, “Henry, get this blasted animal out of here! It’s making a mess all over and it’s freezing me.”

Harry hung his head. “But Grandpa, he just wants to play. He’s my friend!”

“Dogs, especially snow dogs, belong outside.” Augustus pointed a finger back to the conservatory. Then a gust of wind lifted the snow dog and sent it flying through the air and back out into the yard. “Especially ones that are melting away.”

Harry stamped a foot on the floor. “You’re mean, Grandpa!”

“Mean am I?” the older wizard glowered at Harry, cradling a distraught Mystic in his arms. “Child, you don’t know what mean is.”

But Harry had turned and ran after the snow dog, upset and angry.

Severus followed, wondering how long the accidental magic would last. He was surprised it had lasted this long.

Sure enough, he found Harry crouched on the ground, hugging what remained of the dog, which had collapsed into a pile of snow the minute it had been taken from Harry’s side.

“Papa, Snowflake’s . . .all melted!” Harry wailed. “Why? Why didn’t he stay alive?”

Severus knelt in the snow and gently pried the toddler’s hands away from the snow. “Harry, the snow dog . . .he could only come to life for a little while and then he becomes snow again.”

“No-o-o! I wanted him to be my friend forever!” He kicked out at the snow.

Severus hoisted the bawling toddler on his hip and brought him inside, Apparating into the large bathroom attached to his bedroom, where he started running a hot bath. Harry’s little hands and feet must be near frozen from being out too long in the snow.

“It’s no fair!” the boy sobbed.

Severus tugged his coat off. “Harry, listen to me. Snowflake needed to go back to where he came from. To the land of ice and snow and snowmen. He could only come and play with you for a little while and then he needed to go home.”

“Why?”

“Because he had a family that missed him.” Severus improvised, undressing the little imp, who had started to shiver. “Maybe someday he’ll come back and play with you again.”

“When? Tomorrow?” sniffled Harry.

“Maybe,” Severus said, handing him a tissue. “Now, let’s get you in this bath, you’re chilled to the bone.”

Harry allowed him to put him in the tub, which felt good after so long in the snow and the toddler played with a bunch of bath toys, including the rubber duck Severus had first made for him. “I wish he could have stayed longer,” he said wistfully.

“Ah, Harry. When you’re older, maybe I can convince your grandfather to let you get a kitten or an owl for a pet,” Severus said.

“A kitten like Mystic? For me?”

“Yes, but first you have to be a bit bigger,” Severus said.

“Like how much?”

“Six,” said Severus.

“But that’s too long!”

“Five, then.”

“Why not now?”

“Because you’re too little to help take care of a kitten.”

Harry sulked. “How come I’m always too little?”

“Harry, someday you’ll look back on this and thank me. I know it may seem like we never let you do anything, son, but you just have to learn patience. Remember, good things come to those who wait. Enjoy the age that you are, because the older you get, the bigger problems you’ll have.”

“But I hate waiting.” He crossed his little arms over his chest just the way Severus did at times.

Severus bit back a chuckle at the way his son looked. “Harry, sometimes we all have to do things we don’t like. That’s life.”

“Life sucks.”

“Harry Snape, where did you hear that?” Severus demanded.

Harry shrugged. “A kid said it when we was shoppin’.”

“Figures. Don’t say it again.”

“Is it a bad word?” he asked worriedly. “Are you gonna wash out my mouth?”

“No, unless you say it again. It’s not a good thing to say and I don’t want you to get in the habit of repeating things you hear other kids say. Clear?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Good. Now lean your head back and close your eyes so I can wash your hair,” Severus ordered, lathering up the auburn hair with a mild shampoo. The things this child came out with! He was like a parrot, repeating everything he heard, and that was why Severus tried hard not to swear in front of him, though sometimes he forgot.

As he gently scrubbed his son’s hair, Severus thought about how his son was growing up so quickly and almost wished there was a spell to stop time for awhile. Because despite Harry’s tantrums and stubbornness, he was also a sweet inquisitive little boy, and Severus cherished those moments with him. Soon enough, he knew Harry wouldn’t need him to take a bath or be snuggled and hugged and tucked in at night with a cup of honeyed milk and a bedtime story. I know it’s normal for all little children to want to grow up, but I wish you could be my little one awhile longer. Just awhile.

Then he rinsed his son’s hair off and said, “Finished, now you can play for a bit before you get dressed again. Do you feel better? Not cold anymore, are you?”

“Nope. Papa, is Grandpa mad at me for letting Snowflake in the house?”

“No, son. I think he was more surprised than angry. Don’t worry about him. Most times, his bark is worse than his bite.”

Harry giggled at that saying. “You’re silly, Papa.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Severus mock-growled.

“Yes!”

His eyes narrowed in pretend anger. “Do you know what happens to bad little boys who make fun of their fathers?”

Harry giggled again and splashed Severus.

“Oh, now you’re in for it!” And he reached out quick as lightning and tickled his son under the arms and along the ribs.

“Ahhh! The tickle monster’s comin’!” Harry shrieked, overcome with laughter. They had played this game before and he loved it.

“Wretched brat! Now I can tickle you to death!” growled Severus, tickling him without mercy.

“Stop! Stop!”

“What for?”

“B’cause . . .b’cause I’m gonna pee in the tub!”

Severus stopped.

Harry gave him a smug grin. “Only foolin’.”

“Why, you little rascal!” cried his father. Then he grabbed his son’s foot and tickled it till he howled. “That’ll teach you.”

Once Harry stopped laughing, he began to play in the water, watching the soap bubbles change color, and dreaming of the day when he would be big enough to have his own pet that would stay with him forever and never have to go back to the land of ice and snow ever again.

“Papa?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“How come only the snow dog came alive when I wished for it and not Frosty?”

“Well, Harry, what you did was magic, a small bit of magic.”

“Like you n’ Grandpa?”

“Yes, son. You’re a wizard, Harry. And when you’re small you perform what we call accidental magic. Like today.”

“Really? Wow!”

“Indeed. And someday you’ll be a powerful wizard.”

“Like you? ‘Cause I want to be jus’ like you when I grow up, Papa.”

“Oh, Harry,” was all Severus said, thinking sadly, You wouldn’t want to live my life, child. I was a miserable bugger till I found you. You were my saving grace, Harry Potter. In saving you I think I saved myself.