The reincarnation potion only worked on those few people whose life Destiny had chosen to interfere with. Although the potion itself was fairly easy to construct, it was deadly to human beings unless some super-human force decided to interject on the drinker’s behalf. There were rumors that this had happened a couple of time in Ancient days, but in written history only two wizards had ever had such assistance. One, of course, was Merlin. The other was Percival Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore’s great-great-grandfather. Some said that the current headmaster of Hogwarts had been trying to follow in his ancestor’s footsteps by leading the Light, but of course it did not work that way. Destiny had to call a person forward to do horrible things for the better of wizard hood. Those who did so on their own were merely ambitious.

People were able to take the potion were “called”, somehow. They seemed to know that the potion would work on them. The few others who had taken the potion, thinking that there had to be a trick to surviving its poison and gaining a second life, had supposedly burned alive from the inside out, their intestines melting and dripping out of their eyes, nose, and mouth like water from a faucet.

It had not happened in several hundred years, of course. After that fate met a couple of wizards, the rest had learned to steer clear of the potion. Even Voldemort had known enough to stay away from that particular substance. Of course, Severus thought wryly, he might have liked it if his old master had taken the potion. Certainly seeing the man die in such a painfully violent way would have been more satisfactory than watching him fall, almost peacefully, as a victim of Potter’s first, and, according to the boy, last killing curse.

Tom Riddle had raped innocence from the world until the very end.

Severus forced himself to take his thoughts away from Voldemort. As nice as it was to remember the site of the man’s still, cold body, Riddle had infested his mind for more than twenty years. Now that the evil was purged from the world, Severus might as well purge it from himself. He turned his concentration instead to the potion that simmered hauntingly in front of him. The Reincarnation Potion.

The potion hissed like an uncontrolled acid. Severus closed his eyes for a moment and then plucked one hair from his head and dropped it into the mix. It dissolved in a moment and the potion turned the most intimidating shade of pink that existed in the wizarding world. Every potions master knew to turn tail and run at that color.

Severus stirred it once, lightly, and stoppered a vial of it. He slipped the vial into the inner pocket of his robes and banished what was left of it. He was not foolish enough to leave that lying around. He’d rather be forced to make the entire thing again if something untoward should happen to the vial in his pocket—although, of course, he would take the utmost care that nothing should happen.

Potter was sitting stoically in the hospital wing where Severus had left him two hours before. He didn’t turn his head when Severus entered the room, and Severus gave a slight cough to announce his presence. Potter’s head rotated, a lock of black hair falling away from his face, and riveted his sightless green eyes approximately towards Severus. Even two years after Potter was blinded in the final battle against Voldemort, Severus was unused to the sight of Potter’s scar-lined face and dulled green eyes.

“Professor?” Potter’s voice no longer held a trace of childish innocence. It was hard now. A man’s voice.

“I’m here, Potter.” Severus swallowed. “With your potion.”

Harry nodded once. His expression seemed to soften slightly, and he waved slightly in front of him as though to suggest that Severus might sit down. “I didn’t let you ask me many questions before.”

“I believe I understand how you must be feeling.”

“Oh?”

“Sure. You forget that I, too, lost all my friends at the end of a war and found myself alone.”

Harry grimaced. “This will help you, too, though.”

“How so?”

“You’ll have something to live for. Something that you want to live for.”

“You assume that you’ll live.”

“I know that there are risks involved, but-“

“But what? Did you wake up this morning and think to yourself, ‘don’t solve the problem when danger is better’?”

Harry growled. “You don’t have any idea what’s going through my mind.”

“You’re thinking there’s no one to stop you. You spent your whole life with one thought in your mind; get rid of the Dark Lord, and now that you have done that, you don’t think that anyone wants to be bothered with you. The bridges you’ve burned leave you trapped off at all sides, the tables turn, it’s all gone, and what’s left for you?”

“Stop! You don’t know what I’m going through.”

“I know that this isn’t the solution to it,” Snape hissed.

“No? What is the solution when everything around you has gone to hell? I don’t have my dead enemy’s son to protect.”

Snape sneered. “Potter, when the sky is falling, don’t look outside the window.”

“Trying to be Dumbledore now?”

Now it was Snape’s turn to growl. The last thing that he needed was to be compared to that twinkling, manipulative son of a witch.

Harry bit his lower lip for a moment, and then he turned his head towards Severus. “Look, this is going to be fine. I know that it is.”

“You’re still young. Don’t run away. The act of living is better that your worst, worst day.”

“This is living! It’s just your doubt that blinds you.”

“Just drop these thoughts behind you now.” Even as he said the words, Severus knew that it was no use. Potter was determined for this to work. He was determine to take the potion, determined that he should have a rebirth. He was so young, Severus thought. Merlin and Dumbledore had both been ancient wizards before they took the Reincarnation Potion. Potter was barely more than a child. He hadn’t lived the first time around.

But maybe that was the point. Potter hadn’t had a chance to live the first time around. This was his chance, the only chance that the boy thought would work. Did Severus really have the right to rob him of that? Did he have the right to refuse to help the boy, to force him to grow up cold and bitter and friendless, as Severus had?

“And me as your parent?” Severus asked. It was the only thing that he understood less than the fact that Potter wanted to be reincarnated. He could have any set of parents that he wanted, their DNA being combined with the DNA of James and Lily Potter in order to create a new child. Severus had thought that Potter might choose a couple of distant friends from school, or even give himself up for adoption.

“If I went with a couple, there’s no guarantee that they wouldn’t have their own child later on and perhaps not treat me as well. I went through that once already, I don’t want to go through it again. You’re young enough to take care of a small child, but you don’t necessarily want to settle down with a wife, so you probably won’t have another for me to compete with.”

“Selfish, Potter?” Severus’s face twisted wryly.

Harry just shrugged. “Sure. Why not? I, as I am, will only be around for a few hours longer. They may as well be self-satisfying hours. In any case, even if you were to have your own child, you wouldn’t treat them any differently than you would treat me.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“You made the potion, which means that you understand its properties better than most people. You understand how completely you yourself will be imbued in my body and soul, just as much as my current parents… and you loved my mother. I think that you might have liked to have had a child with her. You won’t abuse it if it happens.”

“You act like you’ve thought of everything. Have you considered the fact that for much of your childhood I did not like you?”

Harry shrugged. “So you’ll work hard to make sure that I don’t have the same character flaws the second time around as I did the first time around. Your own DNA in me will guarantee that you overlook any resemblance I might have to James, and you will not let yourself be manipulated by Harry Potter’s fame and glory. Many others would.”

Severus nodded. “I will take you in, if it is your wish. Before I give you the potion, though, I want to be sure that you know exactly what you’re getting into. How much have you researched this potion?”

“None,” Harry responded calmly. “My parents…visited me. They told me that it was an option for me. I took it.”

Severus’s jaw tightened. Trust James not to give his son the facts. He might have expected more from Lily, though. He caught himself in the middle of these thoughts. How had they visited their son at all? Did he mean that he had heard about this in the graveyard or the time that he died for a few long minutes at Voldemort’s hands?

“The potion,” he said, “does not turn back time completely. At least, it never has. In theory a potion master might be able to make a potion potent enough to turn the drinker back to the first day of their infancy, but it’s not like we exactly have the opportunity to practice or experiment with the recipe.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you take the potion, you won’t suddenly turn into a newborn baby,” Severus said simply. “How old you are will depend on the potency of the potion that I made.”

“Do you have a guess?”

Severus sighed, steepling his hands together. “Merlin was a toddler, I believe. Dumbledore was nearly seven.”

“That old?”

“I feel fairly confident that mine is a bit more potent than Augustus Revinwood’s—that was the potions master that Dumbledore entrusted. They were friends, but Revinwood was young and still fairly inexperienced. I am not.”

“But… How will I have developed up until then? I mean, I won’t be Harry Potter any more. I’m likely to be nothing like me.”

“It will be a bit like having amnesia, I believe,” Severus said. “You will not know your name or your age, nor will you remember anything. However, in some back part of your mind, Harry Potter’s life up until the age that you are will affect you.”

“So, like, if I knew how to walk at two years old and the new me becomes two years old, I’ll know how to walk?”

“Not quite. More like, if your family spent x hours teaching you how to walk and you spent x hours walking by that age, that would be taken into consideration and the new you would be affected by that. It may be that you had spent 5 hours learning how to walk at that age, and the new you will need 6 hours to learn. I would need to spend one more hour teaching you.”

Harry nodded. “Alright. That makes sense. But what about… other things. Will their treatment of me affect me?”

Severus nodded tightly. “Unfortunately, yes. Assuming that the potion takes you past the point where you were left with your aunt and uncle, you will behave like a child who has been abused. Any fears that you might have derived from that will be present, as will any insecurities. Worse, you won’t know where they are coming from.”

Harry swallowed. “So I’ll be all screwed up?”

“I will have to work with you a great deal during your first couple of months, maybe years, with me,” Severus said. “I will, however, make sure that you are not perpetually ‘screwed up’, as you say.”

Harry nodded. “That’s okay then.”

Severus reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out the vial. “Do you wish to take this now?”

Harry nodded shakily. “I packed a time capsule for when the new me is older,” he said, handing Severus a package. “Can you make sure I get it?”

“How much older?”

“At least old enough to go to Hogwarts, but you can use your judgment on that.”

“I will ensure that it reaches you.”

Harry wrapped his hand around the vial. It was cool, cooler than he expected considering the fact that it’s contents would burn most humans alive. Burn like an acid, though, not because it was hot. He supposed that must make some sort of difference.

“What will my name be?” he asked, his blind eyes searching the darkness in front of him as though he might see the world one last time before he turned.

“Evan.”

Harry smiled and uncorked the vial. Severus swallowed, closed his eyes, and put a hand on Harry’s forearm. “Change your mind.”

Harry shook his head lightly. “Take good care of me.” And with that last statement, Harry tipped his head back and poured the deathly pink liquid down his throat. Severus watched for a moment for any reaction from the boy, but the boy stood as still as a statue for a long moment, unblinking. It was a long moment before the potion seemed to take its effect.

Harry opened his mouth and screamed.

He had helped the boy commit suicide.

Severus had done many sick, twisted things in his time, but never had he been manipulated into doing something as perverse as helping someone kill themselves, and even at their worse Death Eaters had never melted people from the inside out. His stomach twisted into a knot within him and he mentally cursed the only person in the world who had ever out-snaked Severus Snape. He felt a kind of grudging respect towards the boy for that.

He watched, detached, as Harry sank to the floor, holding his body up by the palms of his hands. His screams had subsided now into a piteous whimpering. His entire body shook as he struggled to breathe in and out. It was the least peaceful way Severus could think of dying. He couldn’t fathom why Harry would have chosen to leave the world in this manner.

He didn’t try to help the boy. Dumbledore would have. Pomfrey would have. He did not. He felt numb all over, dejected. He would be of no use to the boy anyway. There was no counter to that particular brew. Once ingested, there was no going back.

He waited for the boy to begin to spew liquids from every orifice on his body.

Nothing happened. Harry Potter died without anything else occurring. The history books got it wrong, or else Snape brewed the potion incorrectly… and he was sure that he had not. The potion was a fairly simple brew, and Snape had taken the utmost care in brewing it. There was no way he had botched it.

He was so preoccupied with such thoughts that he almost didn’t see the soft grey smoke beginning to drift out of Harry’s pores. The smoke gathered in the air around Potter’s body, smelling faintly of grass and Watermelon. It didn’t clog the entirety of the infirmary, only surrounding Potter’s dead body. When it cleared away, Potter was gone.

A child sat where Potter had laid a moment before, his pale, naked body bright in the light of the infirmary. The first thing that Severus noticed about the boy was his eyes. They were not green. Large, black, and calculating, the eyes held not a trace of Lily in them.

Somehow that, simple though it was, made the transformation real to Severus. Harry James Potter no longer existed. In his place sat a pale, undernourished boy with wavy hair the color of sangria. His thin, bony body was littered with dark bruises and a scar cut across the child’s left eye, white and furious.

Reincarnated, brand new, and already the boy was battered, bruised, and scarred. The injustice made Severus’s stomach burn with rage.

The boy had not yet spoken. He looked, Severus reflected, rather shell shocked. It was no wonder. The boy had no memories to speak of, nothing to drawn on, no way of comprehending why he was where he was. Just give me a sign, Severus thought, a sign that you’re alright. Slowly, the boy wrapped his arms around his frame and was staring at Severus through those big black eyes as though he were frightened half to death.

Severus swallowed. What was he supposed to do? It wasn’t as though he could tell this boy, this little boy, what had occurred. Not really. Still, Severus needed to help fill in the blanks. He needed to help the child know what was going on in the world.

He needed to invent a story.

“Evan,” he said, crouching in front of the boy so that it would be clear who he was talking to. “What are you doing on the floor?”

The child looked up at him, wide eyed. His lower lip had turned a bit blue from the cold. He did not, however, respond to Severus. Instead he wrapped his arms more tightly around his tiny frame. Severus frowned. He didn’t know this child. He had known Harry. I used to know the sound of a smile on your voice, Severus thought. No longer, no longer. Harry was gone.

Severus smiled thinly. “Are you cold? I’ve no idea what possessed you to sit down there without any clothes on. Come on, let’s get you up into bed.”

He picked the child up from beneath the arms and deposited him in the bed that Harry had just been in. Before. Severus swallowed. He hadn’t had a chance to think about Harry until now. Harry was, Severus realized, just as dead as if the potion had rejected him. The silent specter he was wrapping a blanket around was not Harry. Harry Potter was dead.

Severus looked at the boy sitting on the bed. Evan Snape. He was the only legacy that Harry Potter had left behind, and Severus was determined to do the child more good than he had done his predecessor.

“How are you feeling?” Severus asked, forcing him to smile at the little boy. “Do you feel hot? Cold? Is your throat sore at all?”

Evan stared up at him almost coldly. He seemed, Severus realized, suspicious. Surprisingly suspicious for one so small. Severus had not yet determined Evan’s age. He refused to contemplate it when the boy’s obvious malnourishment would cause him to appear younger than he was. It would only serve to fuel Snape’s temper when he realized the boy’s actual age.

“Evan,” Severus said, hardening his voice ever so slightly. Continuing the façade. “You know that I want you to answer me when I ask you questions. We’ve been through this!”

The boy swallowed hard, raised a shaking hand up to rub tiredly at his eyebrow, and spoke for the first time. “Who’re you?”

Severus’s eyes went wide in feigned surprise. “What do you mean ‘who am I’? You don’t know me?” When the boy shook his head, Severus allowed himself to curse. Once. “That potion must have been a memory-changer.”

He winced at the sound of that. Hopefully Evan wouldn’t remember this particular weak explanation for long, because anyone over the age of eight would know that there was no such thing as a “memory changer”. It even sounded stupid.

Severus crouched down so that he was at eye level with his new son. “I’m your Papa. You came to live with me yesterday. You accidentally drank a potion you weren’t supposed to drink--which was very naughty, by the way. I’m afraid it might have made you forget some things.”

It was the best explanation Severus could come up with under pressure. He would simply have to get Dumbledore behind the story sometime. He would, of course, tell Evan the truth later on, but the boy was far too little at this juncture to understand. At least now, any effects that Evan suffered due to Harry’s abuse as a child would not have to be pegged on Severus.

“Where’d I live before?”

“With your aunt and uncle for a little bit,” Severus said carefully, “and before that with your Mummy and her husband.”

Evan nodded, seeming to accept that. He pulled his covers a little bit higher on his shoulders. Severus took off the robe that he was wearing and Transfigured it into pajamas small enough to fit the tyke. He helped Evan into them.

“You never told me how you were feeling.”

“I’m alright,” Evan whispered nervously.

“Does your throat hurt?”

“A little.”

Severus conjured a glass of water and helped Evan drink it. “Do you think that you could take a nap?” Severus thought that the reincarnation had probably taken a lot out of Evan. The last thing that he wanted was for Evan to make himself sick trying to process things too quickly. Besides, Severus needed some time to process things himself.

Luckily, Evan seemed grateful for the idea. He nodded, settling his head back against his pillow. Severus sat down slowly, resting a hand on the boy’s head. He rubbed Evan’s hair lightly, coaxing him to sleep. He wasn’t used to this kind of thing. He stood up, intending to head back to his room and finish packing for summer, but a small hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Please don’t walk away,” Evan whispered, “I know you wanna stay.”

So Snape stayed, sitting quietly beside Evan. The boy was so quiet, so solemn. He was too young to be so silent, Snape thought. When will you laugh again? Snape wondered. Harry used to laugh all the time. He wasn’t used to this solemnity.

Evan awoke, gasping, a small hand reaching up to his forehead. He frowned, chewing on his lower lip. In his dream his forehead had hurt, but now that he was awake the pain was gone, like it hadn’t been there at all. Like it was all imaginary. It had felt so real.

He was all alone. He curled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Where was he? What was going on? He didn’t know anything. The room he was in was dark and empty. The emptiness was overwhelming. The spaces around him were so big and dark and scary.

He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t know why he felt that way, but there was something wrong with him sleeping all alone in a bed. He turned in his bed, his legs swinging over the edge of it. He shivered a little as his blankets fell off of him and his bare feet touched the frigid tiled floor. He closed his eyes, sighed, and stood. He was so cold.

He walked carefully across the room to the door. He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be here. He needed to find something, somewhere specific. He didn’t know where it was, only that he wasn’t there yet. His legs guided him down the torch lit hallway, his arms wrapped around his bare chest.

There! He saw a door and it felt strangely right to him. He reached a hand up and wrapped it around the cool metal knob, turning it carefully, and stared at a closet containing mops and brooms and cleaning products. Evan smiled. He didn’t know why, but this felt right to him. This felt like where he should be spending the night. He stepped into the closet and pulled the door shut behind him, curling up with his head against a wall. I’ll lock myself in these walls, Evan thought, because out there I’m always wrong. He wasn’t sure where the thought come from. All he knew was that despite the cold, he only felt safe now that he was in a broom closet.

***

The buzzing was getting louder. Severus frowned as he lowered the heat and added some parsley to the potion that he was making. He had decided as he stared at Evan’s sleeping form, that he needed to brew a batch of nutrient potions. It wasn’t something that they normally had available in the Hogwarts stores—it wasn’t their job to beef up children—but Evan certainly needed it.

He stirred the potion seven times counterclockwise, wishing the buzzing would just shut up, and moved to stir it clockwise. His hand froze, his eyes widened. The buzzing! Damn it! Banishing his potion, he swept from his labs and raced to the infirmary.

How long had the alarm bell going off? Evan must be frightened to death, wide awake without Severus there to talk to him. Severus tried to imagine what he would do in that situation, but he couldn’t fathom it. Evan had no history that he remembered, only instincts that he had gleaned because of Harry’s history.

He threw open the door to the infirmary, bursting with apologies and platitudes befitting a child. No use. Evan was gone.

Severus stared at the empty infirmary bed, his heart sinking into his bowels. He’d been a father for a couple of hours and he had already lost the kid. Why had Harry entrusted him with this job? He was clearly the most incompetent cretin that ever walked the Earth.

“I need somebody’s help,” Severus whispered, shooting signals in the air. “Is anybody listening?”

The response was mercifully quick. Dumbledore tumbled out of the fireplace looking particularly grave. “Severus?”

“Potter took the reincarnation potion,” Severus said, forcing himself to be calm. Fortunately for him, Dumbledore was one of the most collected people in the world. The old man would take whatever information Severus gave him calmly for now, saving questions for a more prudent time. “He… The new him, I mean. He got out.”

“Got out?”

“I went to my rooms to pack. To take him home. When I came back he was gone.”

Dumbledore gave Severus a disapproving look that Severus knew the he deserved. “Well, how old is he? I need to know what we’re searching for.”

“I don’t know,” Severus squirmed beneath Dumbledore’s gaze. “There wasn’t time. He needed to sleep, I needed to sleep. I thought I could check later.”

“We will discuss this later,” Dumbledore said coolly. It was not a request. Severus swallowed, nodded. He deserved Dumbledore’s criticisms, whatever they may be.

They asked portraits where to look for the boy. Several of them had seen Evan heading down the corridor, and by the next corridor the portraits had seen nothing. Severus hoped that meant that Evan was contained in one of the classrooms in this hallway, and not that he had merely escaped the notice of the portraits.

“Evan!” he called. “Evan, where are you, buddy?” He tried to keep his voice nice, although he could tell that there was a hint of panic in the back of it.

***

When Evan woke up the second time, he was scared. Now he wasn’t tired, only confused, and he was pretty sure that the man from yesterday—his Papa?—didn’t know where he was. He was going to be in trouble. He could feel it in his tummy. Evan stood up. The broom that he had been sleeping on for half the night toppled over and slammed loudly against the wall behind him. Evan’s hands reached up to cover his ears. A slight whimper escaped his lips.

He opened the door and looked out into the hallway. It looked so different in the daylight. He stepped out, feeling very vulnerable. Which way was the room he was in last night?

How did I get so far away, Evan wondered. It hadn’t seemed so far away last night when he was walking, but now he was scared and alone. I’m lost here, Evan whispered. I’m so scared. He wanted someone—he wasn’t sure who—to come find him. He tiptoed back the way that he thought that he had come from, shivering and whimpering. Tears were streaming silently down his pale cheeks. He wasn’t supposed to cry. Not ever. He ran a haggard arm across his face, smearing snot and tears across his elbow. He was going to be in so much trouble!

That was when he heard the sound. A voice calling for him. Calling for Evan. He was Evan. He froze, listening to the voice. He was going to be in trouble when his Papa found him. Should he run away? Except that he was scared, and alone, and he didn’t want to be. He stared silently down the hall toward the voice, and then he took a tentative step forward. Another. A third. He reached the end of the hallway and there, looking the other way from him, was his Papa.

“Papa?” Evan whispered, his voice choked and scared.

The man turned around, his face narrowing. Evan scrunched up his face as the man approached, raising his arms above his head to block it. He felt a light touch on his arms, pulling them down to his sides, and then he was being pulled into his Papa’s arms.

“I thought I lost you,” his papa whispered.

“I’m scared.”

“I know.” His Papa brought out a stick and tapped Evan lightly on the head with it. Evan frowned as his Papa looked at the stick, muttering to himself. Finally he looked up at Evan with interest.

“You turned four last week.”

“Is it time to go?” Evan asked as his Papa helped him stand.

His Papa looked down, a smile twitching about his lips. “Yes. And you and I need to have a talk when we get back to the infirmary.”

A talk. Evan bit on his lower lip, looking up at his Papa through his red fringe. How could his Papa make such a little word sound so scary? He swallowed, his gaze falling to his feet, which were stumbling over each other in his haste to keep up with his Papa’s long strides.

Evan could feel his nose beginning to run. He frowned, reaching a hand up and swiping it across his snotty nose. He glanced up real quick at his Papa and decided, gratefully, that his Papa hadn’t noticed anything. He felt as though his Papa knowing he was sick would be a Really Bad Thing. He wasn’t sure where the feeling came from, except that it seemed to be the same part of his body that had told him to sleep in the cupboard last night.

Did that mean that he shouldn’t listen to it?

He sniffed and swiped a hand across his nose again. This time his Papa looked down, eyes narrowing perceptibly. Evan swallowed. Hard. He should have listened to the voice in his head. His Papa looked mad.

***

Severus wasn’t sure what to do. He couldn’t figure out what had possessed Evan to run off in the middle of the night. Had Potter been a night-time wanderer so early in his life? Severus had thought that Potter’s nighttime wanderings were simply because he was a rebellious teenager. It had never crossed his mind that Potter might have been restless as a child.

Was he restless as a child? Severus glanced down at Evan… His son. Already Evan seemed, in many ways, to be different from Harry, and not just in appearance. Evan was much more quiet that Harry had ever been, almost meek. Cowed. Even with his misconceptions of the boy set aside, there was no denying the fact that Harry had a very Potter-like stature, a certain way of holding his jaw that was automatically defiant and bold. Evan seemed much softer, somehow. Subtler.

So the question remained; were these particular nighttime wanderings specific to Evan, or were they a byproduct of Harry’s first four years of life? Unfortunately, it would not be an easy question to decipher. Harry’s life affected Evan’s life. The two possibilities intermingled confusingly.

How much more confusing must it be for Evan? Evan had no idea what was going on. He didn’t know anything. Severus tried to imagine what it would be like to be born a four year old boy, but he simply couldn’t. He should have made the potion more potent, somehow. He wished he had known how to do so, but he had been too afraid to ruin the potion to change it in the least bit.

He almost walked past the hospital wing, so engrossed was he in his thoughts. Only a slight sniffle from the boy latched to his arm alerted him to his whereabouts. He frowned thoughtfully down at his son. Was the boy developing a cold? Probably. Out wandering the corridors without any proper attire… Severus felt a twang of guilt that he hadn’t been paying better attention to his son. Evan shouldn’t have had the opportunity to get so far away. He was too little to be waking up all alone in Hogwarts, for Merlin’s sakes!

Evan was pulling on his hand. When Severus looked down, the boy was frowning a little. “Why don’t you let go of my hand?”

Severus smiled weakly. “Let’s get you up into bed,” Severus said, lifting the boy up by the armpits and setting him on the bed. He wrapped a quilt around Evan’s shoulders, afraid that the boy would get some terrible sickness if he was out in the cold any longer.

Severus watched his son for a moment, trying to come up with something to say. He didn’t want to upset the boy, but neither could he have Evan wandering around all the time, thinking it was an alright thing to do. Huffing in frustration, Severus ran a hand through his long black hair.

“I was worried when I came in this morning and you weren’t here,” Severus said at last.

Evan ducked his head, one long finger tracing a pattern in his pale kneecap. “’m sorry, Papa.”

“Look at me,” Severus put a finger beneath Evan’s chin and gently tilted the boy’s face upward. “I know you’re sorry, Evan. What I don’t know is why you left.”

At Evan’s confused shrug, Severus tapped the boy lightly on the nose. “None of that. What were you thinking? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

Sniffling miserably, Evan wrenched his head away from Severus and buried his head in his knees. “I dunno! I was scared!”

“What were you scared of.”

Evan shrugged again, and Severus barely resisted the urge to rip his hair out. He was not patient enough for this. “Where’d you go?”

“A closet,” Evan whispered.

“A closet.” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “You ran away to a closet.”

“It felt safe.” Evan looked up, those big black eyes latching onto Severus’s. He looked so small and scared. “Papa? Are you mad at me?”

Severus’s face cleared. He pulled Evan into his arms. “No, I’m not mad, Evan. Shh, it’s okay.”

Evan sobbed into his Papa’s chest. He felt so lost, so confused. He didn’t know. “I never felt so bad in all my life.”

“It’s okay, Evan,” Severus whispered.

Evan sniffed weakly and rested his head against his Papa’s chest. He was so tired, so confused. “What do you expect from me?”

Severus closed his eyes. He didn’t have an answer to that question. He placed a kiss lightly on the top of Evan’s head. “We’ll get through this, Evan. I’m not gonna let you down.”

He whispered the last words. Evan had fallen asleep.

A soft sound behind Severus alerted him to Dumbledore’s presence. He didn’t turn around. Gone were the days when he had been forced to whip about at the merest hint of movement, grabbing his wand from his holster with amazing speed. He was enjoying the peace of being able to watch his son sleep for a moment longer.

“So this is the boy?” Dumbledore asked.

Severus nodded carefully. “This is Evan.”

“A good name.”

Severus shifted beneath Dumbledore’s searching gaze. He ran a hand lightly through Evan’s hair, a thumb running across the boy’s pale, unmarred forehead. He was small, too small beneath all those covers. He needed to gain a bit of weight, put some meat on those fragile bones.

“You should not have done it.”

Severus glanced up. Dumbledore’s face was grave. As much as he had manipulated Harry, Severus realized that in his own way Dumbledore had loved the boy. Losing him would be hard. He closed his eyes. “It was not my choice.”

“No? Did you not brew the potion.”

“I did. If I hadn’t have, he would have gotten someone else to do it for him, and then so many more people would have known. Now there’s a chance that Evan will have some anonymity.”

“And what would you tell people about Harry Potter?”

“I wouldn’t tell them anything. For all I care, Harry Potter has disappeared. Or he is dead. Whichever you prefer.”

Dumbledore swallowed. He looked almost as though he might cry, and Severus had to turn away. He could not stand to see his mentor so unmanned. “You have such contempt for the one poor child who saved this world?”

“There’s ten million more who probably could if we’d all just stop and say a prayer for them.”

“You should have told me about it.”

“Perhaps. I might have, except that I was afraid you might make him change his mind.”

“Would that have been a bad thing?”

“Evan wouldn’t be here,” Severus said quietly.

“But Harry would be!”

“A jaded Harry. A corrupt Harry,” Severus looked back at Dumbledore. “He had lost too much, Albus. He had suffered too much. He could not have recovered from all of it. He would have turned out…”

“Like you?”

“Like me.”

“You’re a good man, Severus.”

“I have my merits,” Severus acknowledged, “but there is no denying the fact that to see Harry Potter behave as I do would be the bitterest disappointment. Better that we remember him as he was in his youth.”

“You speak as though he were an old man! He was barely twenty.”

“As I was when I turned spy to Voldemort,” Severus’s eyes sharpened. “Twenty is only a youthful age to some. Harry Potter had lived the life of a man five times his age. He deserved to be let go.”

“And to be given a second chance?” Dumbledore leaned closer. “Are we still talking about Harry, or are we talking about you?”

Severus met Dumbledore’s gaze squarely. “I was speaking of Potter, although everyone deserves a second chance—because everyone is forgiven now. Tonight’s the night the world begins again.”

Dumbledore sat back in his seat. He looked all at once very old. He turned sparkless blue eyes to Severus, frowning in consternation. “You have grown up a great deal in this last war. Some might call you wise.”

“Better late than never.”

“What will you do with the boy?” Dumbledore nodded towards Evan.

“He’s mine,” Severus said coolly. “I will raise him as such.”

“I trust that today’s mishap was a one-time fluke.”

“Clearly.”

“Will you tell him about… everything?”

“When he is older.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore stood, slowly, excruciatingly. He put one hand to the small of his back and rested the other on the back of his chair, breathing slowly in and out for a moment before heading towards the door. “Shall I have the house elves add another room to your chambers?”

“There’s no rush. Evan and I will be spending the rest of this year away from the school. I need someplace simple where we can live- perhaps Prince manor.”

“And next year?”

“I would like to come back to teaching, if that is an option.”

“I will have them add another room to your chambers, then.” Severus thought that he could hear a hint of a smile on the old man’s voice.

Severus sat with Evan until he woke up, not willing to risk Evan running away again. He would have to find some other time to make potions for Evan, or else he would have to bring Evan down to the lab with him. He wasn’t fond of that idea, but he supposed that he could probably set up a safe area of the lab for Evan to play in. Evan seemed like a fairly calm child, and Severus got the impression that if he told Evan to stay in one spot, Evan would.

This time when Evan opened his eyes, Severus was there. He should have been the first time, Severus thought. Evan smiled at him, a weak, nervous smile that made Severus at once happy and upset.

“How are you doing, son?”

Evan shrugged.

“Christmas is just around the corner,” Severus said, trying to get the boy to come out of his shell a bit.

It seemed to backfire. An array of emotions flashed across Evan’s face, but while Severus saw curiosity and nervousness and anger and disappointment, he could not register any positive emotions on Evan’s face.

“Christmas?” Evan said blandly.

“Yes, silly,” Severus ruffled Evan’s hair, and was deeply disturbed by how much his persona had changed already. Since when did he use ridiculous words like silly? Since now, he supposed. “Do you have any idea what you want?”

“What I want?”

“For Christmas!”

“I get stuff for Christmas?”

“Of course. All good boys get something for Christmas.”

Evan turned away. His eyes latched onto a spot on the infirmary wall. “I’m not a good boy.”

Severus frowned. “Of course you are. What makes you say that?”

“I dunno.”

“Evan—“

“I ran away!”

“We talked about that. You won’t do it again?”

Evan shook his head.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about. Come here,” Severus pressed a kiss to Evan’s temple. “I love you very much, and that in itself proves that you are a good boy.”

“Yeah?” Evan grinned. “I wish everyone was loved.”

Severus laughed, tickling the boy lightly in the side. “Well then they’d all get your Christmas presents, wouldn’t they?”

Evan let out a shriek as Severus got him in a particularly ticklish spot. “Papa, stop!”

Severus stopped, laughed, and ruffled Evan’s hair again. “So what do you want for Christmas?” He would, of course, be buying the child many things for the holiday, but if there was something specific that Evan wanted Severus didn’t want to neglect it. How could Evan want something specific, though, having only been here for a little bit? Unless there was something that Harry had seen as a child that Evan would have wanted?

“C’n I have a beanie baby?”

Severus looked at Evan in surprise. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised to hear that; beanie babies were particularly popular in the muggle world, and Evan wouldn’t know about anything from the magical world. He supposed it was the simplicity of the present that surprised Severus. “That might be arranged.”

“What do you want for Christmas, Papa?”

Severus froze. He hadn’t expected that anyone would think to get him something for Christmas. Albus usually sent him a bottle of whiskey, but that was about it. His holidays were spent alone and in solitude, and while he had expected that he would have to make them a bit more extravagant now that he had Evan with him, he hadn’t considered the possibility of Evan getting him anything. He didn’t need boxes wrapped in strings and desire and love and empty things, but he didn’t think that saying as much to Evan would be spirited. “I need something only you can give.”

“What’s that?”

“Something from right here,” Severus said, placing a hand over Evan’s heart.

Evan frowned. “How do I get something from there?”

“I’ll tell you what. I’m going to ask Mr. Dumbledore to dinner one day this week. He’s a friend of Papa’s. You can ask him for some help.”

“Okay. Papa?” Evan put a hand on Severus’s heart. “Instead of a beanie baby, can I have something from here?”

“Every present you get from me will be straight from the heart, Evan.”

Most of his packing would be done by the Hogwarts house elves. For now he would only grab the things that he needed to get through the next couple of days. That said, he still needed to be able to pack with some relative peace so that he could think and not be distracted.

In short, he needed a babysitter. Because, although in time throwing some clothes together and watching Evan at the same time might not be a big deal, at the moment he wasn’t exactly sure how to do that. He had never been left in charge of small children when he was in his teenage years and he was still adjusting to the idea of toting a four year old around with him, and that morning’s incident was still fresh on his mind. He didn’t want a repeat.

The obvious choice for a babysitter would be Dumbledore, but Severus wasn’t sure that he liked that. Dumbledore’d had a huge influence on Harry’s life, and although Severus knew that he would play a part in Evan’s life, for now he wanted to be able to think that Evan could get by without the old man’s influences. Besides, the wound of Harry’s death was still fresh to Dumbledore. Severus was afraid that he might expect too much from Evan, might expect him to be too similar to Harry.

Perhaps he was being a mother hen about the situation. He could handle that. It wouldn’t do great things for his reputation, but he could handle that.

In any case, he had to come up with someone to watch his child. His mind fell to the possibility of house elves. Would they be too scary for Evan? It was hard to say. If he could get Evan to like house elves, though, he might hire one to stay with him and to watch Evan when Snape needed to make potions or do other things that he didn’t want Evan to be too close for.

“Evan, I need to get some things together so that we can head to our house. If I call a friend in to stay with you, will you be a good boy and listen to him?”

Evan nodded.

“My friend is a little funny looking,” Severus warned. “But he’s very nice.”

When Evan simply nodded again, Severus called for Deputy. Deputy was an older house elf. He had been nice to Snape when Snape was in school, often curing him when Snape had been hurt by the marauders. He used to tell Snape that he could shine a little light on everything around him. Snape could only hope that such protection and good advice would be extended to his son.

“You’se is calling Deputy?”

“Yes, Deputy,” Severus said, smiling a little at the house elf who was toppling over with hats and scarves. “I was wondering if I might ask a favor of you?”

“Anything for Master Snape!”

“Yes, well,” Snape swallowed. “This is my son, Evan. I was wondering if you might watch him while I go get some things from my chambers.”

“Oh, yes, Master Snape, sir!”

“Evan,” Snape said, kneeling next to his son again. Evan’s eyes were wide and suspicious again, a look that Snape wasn’t particularly fond of. The boy was still staring at Deputy, which made Severus a little bit nervous. He tapped the boy on the knee to get his attention. “Are you okay if I leave you with Deputy.”

Evan pulled nervously on a strand of red hair and bit his lower lip. “C’n I go with you, Papa? I’ll be good.”

Severus frowned. He had hoped that this would be a good solution to his problem, but it was clear that Evan was nervous about Deputy. He didn’t want to leave the boy feeling unsettled. Maybe someday he’d put an end to all this doubt, but for now he felt like he had to consider Evan’s feelings.

Deputy stepped forward, smiling at the boy. “Master Snape is being back soon, and Deputy is being a very good playmate. Deputy is knowing how to build block towers very high so that Young Master Snape can knock them down.”

“Really?” Evan was grinning a little. “C’n you play horsie?”

“Evan—“

“Oh, yes, Young Master Snape, Deputy is a very good horsie!”

Severus watched as his son seemed to warm to the idea. “Do you think that you can stay here with Deputy, then?”

“Yes, Papa,” Evan smiled at him. “I’ll be good.”

“Good boy,” Snape pressed a kiss to Evan’s forehead. “I’ll be back in just a little bit. Don’t get into any trouble.”

He waited until Evan’s back was turned before mouthing a silent thank you to Deputy. Deputy just smiled back at him and began conjuring blocks for him and Evan to play with. Severus stepped silently from the room before Evan had a chance to change his mind. He was amazed that Deputy was able to find a way to make everything better.

An hour later, Severus returned to the infirmary to see Deputy and Evan coloring. Having not been spotted yet, Severus stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, and watched. He wasn’t sure where Deputy had gotten the coloring supplies, but Evan seemed to be enjoying it. A pale pink tongue was sticking out the corner of his mouth, and every once in a while he would raise a hand up to rub at his eyebrow. Severus wasn’t exactly sure where that habit came from, but he found it endearing.

After a minute, he let out a small cough, announcing his presence. Evan looked up and waved.

“Hi, Papa! Deputy ‘n me were coloring.”

“Deputy and I. Did you have fun?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Good boy. Come here,” he crouched low, holding a hand out. Evan ran over eagerly, and Severus pulled the boy into his arms. “Can you say thank you to Deputy for staying with you?”

Evan gave Severus an imploring look. Severus felt fairly certain that if Evan had a bit more confidence he might have been whining at this point. He scowled at the boy, his face shifting into the stern look that had once been its easiest expression. Evan’s eyes watered a little. He pulled away from his father.

“Evan,” Severus whispered warningly. He would not give in on this. No matter how upset Evan became, Severus would not allow the boy to grow up spoilt. He would learn some manners if it killed them both.

“Papa,” Evan whispered.

“Evan! What is the problem?”

But Evan was gone. His hands were in his hair, pulling at the roots of them, and his eyes were wet. His pale face was turning red with frustration. He fell limp, Severus’s arms the only thing keeping him from hitting the floor.

Severus wanted nothing more than to shake the child. The worst part was that he couldn’t explain the behavior. Evan hadn’t given him any problems up until now; frankly, he had thought the boy was too cowed to do anything of the sort for quite a while. He supposed that if he were a bit more detached from the situation, he might think that it was good that Evan felt comfortable enough to throw a tantrum in his presence, but as it was he merely found it infuriating. What was so hard about saying thank you?

Severus forced himself to take a deep breath, and then another. He gave Deputy an apologetic look, picked Evan up off the floor, and sat him in a hard wooden chair on the edge of the room. He spun the chair around to face the wall. “You may come out of the corner when you’re ready to behave properly.”

Evan began to scream. He toppled out of the chair, landing on his knees and rolling over. His breath was coming in great hiccupping gasps until Severus was sure the boy would choke. He didn’t allow himself to be moved by the display; at least, not outwardly. But man, the boy had some lungs on him! The scream was piercing, deafening. It had to be the most horrendous sound Severus had ever heard.

It was after a great deal of time that Evan finally calmed down. He sat on the floor, head buried in his knees, breathing heavily. His fingers were still gently pulling on his hair. Severus sighed, counting his losses. This was probably as calm as he could expect Evan to get on his own. He walked across the room, gently pulling the boy’s hands out of his hair and turning Evan around to face him.

“What is going on with you?”

Evan ran a hand across his running nose. “I don’t know.”

Severus’s stern face returned. “Evan, you don’t throw temper tantrums for no reason. You’re a good boy. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t like those words.”

“What words.”

Evan bit his lip and then leaned closer. In an undertone, whispered with the same reverence that used to be reserved for Voldemort’s title, Evan whispered “thank you.”

Severus frowned. “Why not?”

“They make my tummy hurt.”

Severus had no idea what that meant, but there was a disturbing amount of sincerity in Evan’s face and in his tone. And the boy didn’t throw tantrums for no reason, Severus felt quite certain about that. Why would he have a problem with those particular words, though? And even if he did, it wasn’t like Severus could raise his son not to say thank you.

“Deputy was very nice to stay with you, wasn’t he?”

Evan nodded, although it wasn’t lost on Severus that the boy seemed a bit confused by the change in the conversation.

“And you had fun with him?” Severus continued.

“Yes, Papa. We had lotsa fun.”

“Well, then, shouldn’t you tell him that?” Severus asked. “That’s all that ‘thank you’ means. It means that you had fun and you appreciate him taking the time to play with you.”

Evan shifted. His tiny hand went back up to his brow again. “I don’t like those words.”

“No,” Severus said. “But sometimes we have to deal with not liking things. Deputy deserves a thank you. He should know that you had fun with him. When people are nice to you, you need to say thank you. Even if you don’t like it.” He ran a thumb across the boy’s cheek, wiping tears away. “Go on, Evan. Say thank you so that we can go home and get some dinner.”

Evan swallowed. He felt almost betrayed. He had told his Papa how he felt and his Papa wasn’t doing anything about it! And then he took a shaking breath and forced his tears back. Deputy had been nice to him. His Papa was right about that. And maybe he did deserve a thank you. Evan’s tummy churned as he turned to face the house elf. He didn’t like those words. He didn’t like them at all.

“Deputy?” he whispered.

“Young Master Snape?”

“Th-“ Evan took a deep breath. He couldn’t do it. “I’m glad you came ‘n played with me. I had fun.”

The house elf beamed. “Oh, yes, Young Master Snape. Deputy is having fun, too!”

Evan smiled. He darted a look at his Papa, but the man didn’t seem too mad any more. He didn’t seem happy, but he didn’t seem mad.

“Papa?”

“Maybe someday we’ll figure all this out,” his Papa said.

Evan stared at the floor. It was made out of short planks of wood, but they were shiny and smooth. He could see every twist and curve in the wood, but when he reached his hand down it all felt the same. It was strange. Very strange.

He was lying on his stomach on a couch that he and his Papa had flooed into, his pointer finger trailing across the floor. His Papa was making dinner, and Evan was supposed to be staying right here. He didn’t mind—the couch was white and fluffy, and he was really comfortable—but he felt like he’d been saying still a lot since the potion. Was he sick or something? Why else would his Papa make him stay still all the time and not do anything? But he didn’t feel sick.

He slipped a little on the couch. He caught himself by the palm of his hand and found himself staring upside down at the underside of the couch. He saw a great ball of grey dust at the back of the couch. He frowned. He should get that. Biting his lower lip, He put his other palm on the floor. He slid both hands closer to the couch, and then he picked one palm up an reached beneath the couch.

The dust was really far back. He slid his body down a little bit lower, stretched his hand towards the back of the couch…. BAM! He slammed his head onto the floor, his back flipping over like a giant somersault. His breath whooshed out of his lungs in a giant gush.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment, concentrating on getting his breath back. His head hurt. A lot. He closed his eyes, not letting himself cry out. Choke back tears. Crying was bad. He stood slowly, shakily.

The floor was red with blood. Evan’s eyes widened. Dang, dang, dang. The perfect floor was all messed up! He took a deep breath, closed his eyes. His Papa would be mad about that. He was wrecking this evening already.

He looked around, trying to think. He needed to clean it up, quick, before his Papa saw. What would he clean it up with? He didn’t want to ruin his Papa’s things, but what did he have that he could clean it up with? Nothing but the clothes on his back.

He pulled his sock off of his foot, a sock that his Papa had given him, and knelt on the floor, running the cloth along the floor. His white sock became bright red with blood, but at least here was no blood on the floor any more. He stuffed the sock into his pocket and stood up. His head swam, white fog dancing in front of his eyes. Frowning, he reached a hand up to his head.

Ouch.

Not good, not good. His Papa would notice his head being all bloody, and he would look around to see if Evan had gotten it on anything. What if he had missed a spot? What if his Papa found his sock?

He needed to find a way to fix this. He looked around. His Papa had gone to the kitchen to make dinner. Maybe if he could find a bathroom, he could clean his head up before his Papa noticed anything was wrong. He went into the hallway, searching for something that looked like a bathroom.

He turned down the hallway and padded along, looking into each door that he came to. No bathroom, no bathroom, no bathroom. Where was the bathroom?

Severus had no idea what a four year old ate. He had a feeling that kids were picky, but what did that mean that Evan would eat? And should he be catering to Evan, if indeed he was picky? Severus had certainly been forced to eat his share of broccoli and spinach as a kid. He frowned. He was ruining this banquet already, letting his mind take over. He ought to just make a decision.

He ended up making macaroni and cheese with ham and corn in it. It was a simple meal, but it seemed pretty well-balanced. Casting a charm on the pot so it would stay warm, he went to collect Evan from the living room.

Evan was gone. Severus frowned, but this time he didn’t panic. His manor was large, but it was nowhere near as large as Hogwarts, and his wards were set up so that he would know if Evan had left the house. At this point he was more irritated than anything; Evan had been wide awake when Severus left him on his own, and he had known that he was supposed to stay put. There was no reason Evan shouldn’t have been able to manage that for the ten minutes that Severus was gone, which meant that he was being deliberately rebellious. When did he get all confident?

He wondered if it was James Potter’s genes that were causing Evan to get into trouble. Neither Severus nor Lily would ever have gone off looking for trouble, but James would have if it seemed like fun.

Scowling, he left the room and headed down the corridor in the opposite direction from which he had come. If Evan had gone that way, Severus would have heard him. As he moved further down the hallway, he noticed that doors that had been closed before were now open, almost as though Evan was looking for something.

“Evan?”

No answer—not that he had expected one. Evan was certain to know that he was in trouble for wandering off. He was probably hiding.

He heard water running. Frowning, Severus jogged down the corridor toward the bathroom, pushing open the door. The faucet was indeed running, wet strands of toilet paper strewn across the floor. Lying in the middle of the floor was Evan, his skin unnaturally pale. He was covered in blood, and in his hand he held a wad of bloody toilet paper.

Severus sprinted to Evan’s side.  Evan was much too pale, his skin at once sweaty and cold.  Severus searched for a pulse and found one, albeit a faint one.  He let out a sigh of relief, and then felt horrible that he was relieved.  Evan’s life shouldn’t even be in question right now!  He’d only had the boy for a day.

He didn’t allow himself an internal rant.  Not yet.  The most important thing at this point was stabilizing Evan.  He pulled his wand from its holster, thanking Voldemort for the first time in his life.  If Severus hadn’t dealt with torture at Voldemort’s hands for so many years then he wouldn’t have become as proficient at healing spells as he was now.  As it was, he managed to heal the cut on Evan’s head with minimal difficulty. 

“Come on, son,” Severus whispered.  “Come back to me.”

And somehow, miraculously, he did.  Severus watched Evan’s eyelids for a moment, the eyes beneath moving back and forth, and then suddenly they popped open and Severus was staring into coal-colored depths. 

“Papa?”

“Evan,” Severus smiled weakly.  “How are you feeling?”

Evan frowned, reaching a shaking hand up towards his head.  Severus caught the hand in one of his own, squeezing it gently.  “No, no.  Don’t touch it.  How do you feel?”

            “I’m sorry, Papa.”

            “Shh, it’s okay.”  Severus gently peeled the toilet paper out of Evan’s hand and picked the child up, cradling him like a newborn babe.  “Come on, we’ll lay you down and get you fixed up.”

            He brought Evan back to the sitting room, laying him on the settee with a unparalleled gentleness.   He summoned vials of potions, deciding that he’d take care of all of Evan’s injuries now. He had intended to leave them until bedtime when Evan would be calm and relaxed, but if he was forced to take care of the cut in Evan’s head right now, he might as well get it all over with. 

            Unstoppering a blue vial, he held it out to Evan.  “Drink this up like a good boy.”

            Evan’s eyes began to water.  “I’m sorry, Papa.”

            “It’s okay.  Just drink this, son.  You’ll be alright.”

            “No, Papa, please, I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!  I won’t make a mess again.  Please!”  Evan was sobbing in earnest now.  He reached his hands up to pull at the roots of his hair, and Severus struggled to restrain him, afraid hat he would reopen the cut on his head. 

            “Evan.  Evan, stop that!”  He grabbed both of Evan’s arms with one of his, pinning the boy against his chest.  With the thumb and forefinger of the other hand, he managed to grab the cork from where he’d set it on the end table and finangle it back into the vial.  He set that aside and concentrated on his son.  “What’s gotten into you, child?”

            Evan didn’t reply.  His body had gone limp in Severus’s arms while he continued to cry inconsolably.  Severus closed his eyes, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.  Evan would be the death of him.  Everything that he did sent the boy over the edge, and he never knew what it was going to be next.  It was getting exhausting.

            One thing was for sure; he couldn’t let this go on much longer.  It was wearing both of them out.  He had thought that he might get through this while respecting Harry’s privacy and leaving his past alone, but he just couldn’t.  He needed to know what was triggering Evan’s reactions.  He needed to know what had happened in Harry’s past that was affecting his son so much.

            “What are you afraid of, son?” he murmured, carding a hand carefully through Evan’s hair. 

            “Owie,” Evan whispered.

            At first Severus thought that he had accidentally jarred Evan’s injury, but then he saw that they boy’s eyes were fixed upon the potion vial.  He swallowed, not wanting to think about what, specifically, ‘owie’ referred to. 

            “It won’t hurt you,” Severus said, forcing his voice to be calm.  “It will help you.”             “Owie!” Evan insisted.

            “Evan, son, I promise that it won’t hurt you.  It tastes yucky, but it will make you feel better.”

            Evan shrugged, his eyes remaining fixed upon the vial.  Severus sighed, pressing a kiss to Evan’s head.  “What if Papa has a sip of it?  Then will you take the rest of it like a good boy?”

            Evan frowned for a moment and then, slowly, he nodded his head.  Severus let out a sigh of relief.  He had been afraid that he wouldn’t be able to get potions into the boy without using force, had been afraid that he would have to damage his relationship with his son in order to help him.  He reached a hand out, unstoppered the vial for the second time that night, and took a small sip from the top of it.  He felt Evan’s eyes on him the whole time and didn’t attempt to trick the boy. He needed Evan to trust him. 

            Evan was shaking a little as he took the vial this time, but true to his word he tipped his head back and swallowed the potion.  His face scrunched up like a sponge at the taste, but then he sighed.  The potion hadn’t hurt him. He was alright.

            “Another, son.  This one will taste a bit better.”

            At Evan’s look, Severus took a tiny sip out of this potion as well before handing it over.  Every vial he gave Evan had to be tested first, and he feared that the dosages would be off.  What if the potions weren’t as effective because of it?  He sighed as he watched Evan drink the last of the potions vials. 

            “Can you take your shirt off, son?” he asked.  “I need to put some bruise balm on you to heal your booboos.”

            “Turn away,”  Evan said.

            Snape frowned.  Evan was a little young to have modesty issues, wasn’t he.   He found himself concerned.  “Why, son?”

            “Cuz I’m awful just to see.”

            Snape felt his chest catch at the sound of that.  He rested his hand lightly on the crown of Evan’s head. “No, you’re not.  Here, let me help you.”

            When the shirt had been pulled away from Evan’s body, Snape was met with the sight of his battered and bruised son.  Evan’s pale skin was pulled so taut against his bones that Snape could count every bone; indeed, every vein, in his son’s body, and every bruise shone like a mottled blue beacon. 

            Snape applied the bruise balm carefully, his hands gentle on his son’s skin.  Still Evan hissed every once in a while and closed his eyes.  Snape was relieved when he finally completed the task.  It was painful to carry out. 

            “All done,”  Snape told his son.  “Do you need anything else?”

            “If you could get me a drink?”  Evan asked.  “Cuz my lips are chapped.”

            Snape laughed and ruffled his son’s hair.  “I’ll give you some water with your dinner.  Come on.”  He held out a hand to his son.  “I made macaroni and cheese.  And after dinner, you and I will have a little talk about what happened earlier.”

"I'm sorry," Evan whispered tearfully for the umpteenth time, and Snape was tempted to strangle himself with his own tie. They were getting nowhere with this conversation.

They were seated across from each other in the formal sitting room, Evan on the couch and Severus in his favorite recliner. Dinner had come and gone without incident, and Severus had hoped to have a quick conversation with Evan about what had occurred earlier and then put him to bed. Alas, it was not to be. Trying to get Evan to talk about what had happened was like pulling teeth. All he kept saying was that he was sorry, and Severus wasn't even sure if Evan knew what he was so sorry about.

"It's okay, Evan," Severus said. "You're not in trouble. I just need help understanding what happened."

"I'm sorry."

"Evan!" Severus snapped, a bit more harshly than he meant to. "I just need to know what happened!"

Evan whimpered, pushing himself back against the couch so that his little feet dug into the couch cushions. "Papa, I'm sorry!"

Severus sighed. He could definitely use a stiff drink.

"Breathe. Just breathe, Evan. What happened when I left the room?" he asked, his voice more moderate now.

"I'm sorry."

"That wasn't the question, Evan. What happened?"

Evan closed his eyes tightly. Tears glistened in his black lashes and dripped, one by one, down his pale cheeks. "I wanted to feel the wood."

Severus's eyes snapped up in surprise. Were they actually getting somewhere? After an hour of sobbing and apologies, Evan was answering his questions. Finally.

"You wanted to feel the wood," Severus repeated, not even knowing what wood Evan was talking about but eager to keep him talking. Hopefully he would be able to wring a modicum of understanding from the small child's tale. "Then what happened?"

"I reached down ‘n touched the wood ‘n it was real smooth, like plastic, sorta, ‘n I didn't get how it could be. An' I was upside-down so I could hear my heart in my ears, ‘n then I saw there's dirt under the couch."

Severus nodded. He didn't understand how that could possibly be important-there was dirt under most couches-but it was clearly important to Evan. "What about the dirt?"

Evan gave Severus a peculiar look. "It had to go away."

Severus blinked. The words were said so calmly, like it was the only logical answer to the question. "It had to go away?"

"Uh-huh. Bye-bye. So I tried to grab it with my hand so I could get it to go away."Severus winced. He could easily see where that led to. "Did you fall?"

"Uh-huh."

"You hit your head?"

"Uh-huh."

"And then you went to the bathroom to clean up?"

Evan shifted for a moment, uncomfortably. "Well, sorta."

"Did you or didn't you."

"I did," Evan said. "After."

"After what?"

"Well, I made the floor dirty by bleedin' on it. I had to clean that up."Of course he had to clean that up. Couldn't have a dirty floor. Severus felt like slamming his head against a wall.

"How'd you clean the floor up?"

Evan bit his lower lip for a second, and then stood up and reached into his pocket, pulling out... a sock. A sock that had once been white, but was now stained so dark with blood that it looked brown in places. Severus swallowed. Why hadn't he noticed that Evan was only wearing one sock?

"So, you cleaned up the floor and then you went into the bathroom to clean up?""Uh-huh."

Severus massaged the bridge of his nose rather slowly. "Okay. We need to discuss some new rules."

Evan sat forward, looking attentive. Despite that, Severus summoned a quill and parchment to him so that he could write the rules down as he spoke them. "First of all, if you get hurt, you are to immediately tell me about it. If I am not around, then you are to tell whoever is in charge of your wellbeing. Do you understand?"

Evan nodded once, mutely.

"Secondly, you are never to use your clothes to clean things up. That's what we have rags for. I will not become angry with you for accidentally making a mess."Evan swallowed once, his eyes darting nervously to the floor, but he nodded again.

"Third, you are not to hang off of furniture while trying to reach for anything. If you want it and it is out of easy reach, you are to stand up, walk over to it, and get it."

As he spoke the words, Severus had been writing them on the parchment, under the headline RULES. He was quite sure that he would have to come up with more rules for Harry as time progressed. It was only once he had the rules written that he realized the unlikelihood of Evan being able to read at his age. Frowning, he cast a quick charm on the parchment.

"This parchment has a list of the rules on it," Severus said quietly to Evan. "If you touch it with your fingertip, it will read them to you. That way you won't forget them."

"Okay."

Snape stood, using a permanent sticking charm to paste the list of rules to the wall, low enough that Evan could easily reach it with his fingertips. Evan watched him with jaded eyes. When Snape had finished, he held a hand out to Evan. The boy trotted forward obediently, taking Snape's hand with all the trust and innocence of a child.

"Let's get ready for bed, Evan," Snape said quietly. He brought Evan upstairs and supervised the boy as he washed his face and brushed his teeth. He was glad to see that Evan was potty trained. Part of him had feared that the Dursleys, as neglectful as they were, would have made sure that he didn't have the opportunity to learn.

"I'm all cleaned, Papa!" Evan announced, grinning as he toddled out of the bathroom and into Snape's arms. Snape smiled, chucking Evan under the chin and carrying him to the room he'd set up for him. It was one of the few arrangements he'd had time to do before making Harry's reincarnation potion; indeed, Harry had insisted upon it.

"This is my room?" Evan asked in awe, gazing around him.

"Yes."

Evan's eyes were wide, but after the initial question he fell silent. Snape frowned, trying to see the room from the eyes of a child. It was spacious, with a king size bed and a dresser occupying one corner on the far side of the room. The corner opposite was lined with bookshelves and a desk, with the space between containing two couches. The space between the door and that half of the room contained ample space for Evan to romp around on the floor and enjoy himself.

"Do you like it?" Snape asked, cocking an eyebrow at Evan.

Evan bit his lower lip before replying, "Yes?"

Snape bit back a sigh. "That yes sounded like a no, Evan."

Evan blinked owlishly at Snape, clearly at a loss as to what Snape meant by that statement. Snape swallowed and tried again. "You can tell me if there's something about the room that you don't like, Evan."

Evan chewed his lower lip for a moment before admitting, "It's real big."

Snape swallowed. "Is that a problem?"

"I don't... It's just real, real big, Papa. I don't understand. Why is it so big?"

It wasn't that big, Snape argued in his head. In his mind, it was the right amount of space for a child. He had to remind himself that Harry hadn't been raised in a manor. Evan wasn't used to the grandeur. And, too, he had run away the night prior to sleep in a closet. Snape should have realized that great open spaces intimidated the boy.

"It's big so that you have lots of space during the day to do things," Snape answered calmly.

He walked over to Evan's bed and pulled back the blankets, setting Evan in the bed and pulling the covers up to the boy's chin. He sat down on the bed next to Evan, running a hand through the boy's thick red hair.

"Listen to me, Evan. I need you to hear me say this," Snape said quietly. "You're going to be fine. Let go of your fear. Let go of your doubt. Take the world off your shoulders and put it on me. I won't let anything happen to you here."

Evan bit his lower lip. "I'm scared."

"There's no need to be scared," Snape repeated. "I won't let anything happen to you. My room is just down the hall from yours, next to the bathroom. If you get scared in the middle of the night, you can come get me."

Evan took a deep breath, and then he nodded. "Okay."

"Good boy." Snape brushed the hair away from Evan's head again before leaning down to kiss his pale forehead. "Get a good night's sleep, Evan. I'll see you in the morning."

"G'night, Papa."

Snape slipped out of the boy's room, leaving the door cracked slightly so that he'd be able to hear if Evan needed anything, and then went down the hall to the small study that was next to his bedroom. He wanted to be upstairs tonight, in case Evan did need him for something, but he wasn't quite ready to go to bed yet.

He wasn't surprised when the floo flared to life a few minutes later. He didn't even bother to look up from the papers he was grading. "Come on through, Headmaster."

Sure enough, it was Albus who stepped out of his fireplace a breath later, smiling jovially. Snape noticed that the smile didn't quite reach the man's eyes, but he acknowledged the fact that if he hadn't known Dumbledore so well, he wouldn't have been able to tell.

"How are you, my boy?"

"I'm doing well," Snape said. He was hardly about to relive that evening's activities with the headmaster. He didn't need the old man's knowing looks.

"And how is the child?"

"He's fine," Snape said, "most of the time. Sometimes, he falls down."

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, well, a lot of young children do."

Dumbledore didn't say anything else, but he didn't need to. Snape was used to the headmaster's presence in his life. He conjured some tea for them both, and they sipped it in companionable silence. Snape thought the headmaster might even be on the way to forgiving him.