The rest of the half-term holiday flew by so fast that it was over almost before Harry had realised it had begun.

Every day, Harry was sure to receive at least one owl from Neville, Hagrid or his Slytherin friends. Although some were more open in expressing their emotions, for example Hagrid and Hermione, everyone's letters were incredibly kind and Harry soon had to admit that it seemed like those he loved best genuinely liked him in return: for instance, Draco’s owl arrived every other morning, bearing notes filled with funny anecdotes, like the time when Weasley was being mean to Blaise and Draco, who had the fire breathing chocolates in his pocket, sent a wave of blue flames towards the bully. (Weasley had run, screaming like a girl, and grassed to McGonagall but, when the Deputy-Head heard what Weasley had called Blaise, she made him write a whole two yards on 'The Evils of Homophobia' and another yard on why one should never judge a book by its cover. To add insult to injury, howlers then also arrived from Mrs Weasley and Ron’s uncle Ernie, who were both pretty narky. Draco said Weasley’s face was brighter than his hair and that even Gryffindork-loving Dumbledore had given Weasley a very cool look.)

However, as great as Harry’s friends were, Professor Snape was becoming the light of Harry's life. If, a year ago, Harry had been asked to describe the perfect father, he’d have said someone like Santa Claus; a jolly man who laughed all the time, was open in his emotions and loved, hugged and praised Harry all the time. Now, however, Harry realised how much more special it was, for example, to receive a brief pat on the shoulder from reserved Professor Snape, who didn’t usually seem to like touching people, than it would be from Madam Pomfrey, who was natural hugger. When private, taciturn Professor Snape confided, Harry knew that his teacher trusted him, when Professor Snape praised, Harry knew it was earned, when Professor Snape’s mouth turned up at the corners and his eyes shone with approval, Harry knew that, in his Basilisk’s eyes, he really was a clever, good and special little boy. Father Christmas loved everyone but Professor Snape seemed to like him, Harry, best.

Moreover, Harry’s one-to-one lessons with Professor were fantastic; when not teaching Potions, Professor Snape was a considerably more relaxed tutor. With no children in the immediate vicinity of fire, poisons and explosive matter, the Potions Master’s nervous energy dissipated, leaving him calmer, more patient and with a wit which was wry rather than cutting. The best part of lessons, however, was towards the end of their morning: if they finished early, Professor Snape would show Harry the coolest things. In charms, for example, Professor Snape showed Harry how his pronunciation of a single syllable could make his apple tap-dance rather than ballet: as the fruit- obviously- had no legs, it was the difference between bouncing and twirling or hopping from side to side but it was still dead brilliant, in Harry’s opinion. (They had finished the lesson with the whole bowl of fruit dancing on the table; Harry had laughed himself silly at the can-canning cape-gooseberries, much to Severus’s satisfaction.)

Their leisure hours were also great: some afternoons, Professor Snape warmed the waters of the little bay and gave Harry swimming lessons, other days they visited the local towns, looking around interesting shops, visiting museums and eating Cornish pasties and chips or cream teas in picturesque cafes. And most evenings, whilst supper cooked and the golden sunset painted the sky with pastel shades, Harry and Severus practiced duelling- which the young boy greatly enjoyed. By Friday, Harry was able to disarm, cast a shield and had even managed to do a wandless summoning charm. Professor Snape, pride gleaming in his dark eyes, had said that they must have a party to celebrate and Harry suggested asking Professor Burbage, Madam Pomfrey and Hagrid, who Harry felt he had rather neglected. While he didn’t mind seeing teachers at Uroborus, Harry didn’t want to share his Professor Snape with the other children. Not just yet.

oOoOo

“Allo, Arry m’boy. I’m righ’ pleased to see yeh smiling.” said Hagrid, squeezing the rain out of his beard and onto the porch.

“Hello Hagrid. We’ve been making Professor Snape’s Dad’s famous beer-battered cod, chips and mushy peas. Can’t tell you how, though, because it’s a secret.” enthused Harry, bouncing on his toes.

“Well, now, tha’ sounds a right treat.” Hagrid said, bushy eyebrows creasing in surprise. He hadn’t thought he’s see the day when poor Sev’rus would take a mouthful of fish. “I brung yeh some toffee an’ a flagon of elderflower wine for the Professor.”

“Wow, thanks Hagrid” Harry hugged the box to his chest “Would you like to see Hedwig? I’ve finished laying the table and it isn’t time to start frying the fish and chips yet. Professor Snape says we have to wait ‘til everyone arrives. Hedwig really likes it here, her and Xiao are really good friends now”

“Ah, hello Hagrid” Professor Snape came into the hall, drying his hands on a dishcloth.

“Ello Professor Snape. Got yeh some of me special elderflower wine, I know it is a favourite.” Hagrid replied with gentle smile and a wink.

“Thank you” said Professor Snape mildly, showing no outward sign that he also remembered that incident fifteen years ago, when, after being discovered whilst rascally drunk on Elderflower wine, Severus had buried his face in the half-giant’s shoulder and sobbed out his whole sorry history. Severus had liked and respected Hagrid ever since, despite the genial man’s occasional, good-natured ribbing.

There was another knock on the door.

“I’ll get it” Harry called out, smiling. Although this was his first ever party, Harry knew that the party-boy had to answer the door to guests.

“Hello, Harry. Congratulations on learning your first wandless spell” said Madam Pomfrey, beaming.

“Hey Harry! Looking good in those trainers.” Charity grinned.

“Thanks! Professor Snape and I cooked supper. We’re having Professor Snape’s Dad’s famous beer-battered cod and chips. Oh! And we’ve got mushy peas and an apple pie for pudding.” Harry said proudly.

“Smells delish, Harry.” Charity smiled at Severus, who had helped her take off her cloak. She was wearing a pretty green velvet dress and sandals with jewelled snakes as straps: they constantly coiled and twisted around her ankles. Harry grinned: magic was so cool. “I like your shoes, Professor Burbage!”

“Aw! You’re a love.” Charity smiled, gently ruffling Harry’s hair.

“We’ve got you some flowers for the table.” said Madam Pomfrey, handing Harry a bunch of lilies whilst Hagrid helped her out of her cloak. “Thank you Hagrid.”

“Thanks for the flowers Madam Pomfrey! I really love lilies. Aunt Petunia never had them as she said they’re too messy.” Harry added, blushing and beaming at the Mediwitch.

Madam Pomfrey smiled, though her eyes were sad “Your mother loved them too, Harry dear.”

Professor Snape cleared his throat. “I think that, before supper, we should have a demonstration of Harry’s duelling ability.”

Poppy, Hagrid and Charity followed Harry and Severus up the stairs and into the Duelling room: a long, pale blue gallery with a well-padded floor.

After Harry and Severus bowed to each other, Harry, striking a noble pose (which caused Charity’s eyes to glaze with the effort of suppressing giggles) dramatically cast ‘expelliarmus’. Severus’s wand flew into Harry’s hand and Charity ‘ooohed’ while Poppy, Hagrid and Snape clapped.

Professor Snape summoned his wand and cast a mild ‘Jelly Legs’ jinx, which Harry deflected with an enthusiastically yelled ‘Protego!’

“Good goin’, Harry!” called Hagrid, sending a covert ‘thumbs up’ to Professor Snape.

Harry threw his wand into the corner of the room, cried ‘Accio wand’ and grinned proudly as it came boomeranging back into his hand.

“Brilliant Harry!” smiled Charity.

“Tha’ great work, lad, I’m right proud of you!”

“Well done, Harry!”

But Harry only had eyes for Professor Snape, who nodded and gave him a special kind of smile. A smile which Harry thought, hoped, wished was similar to the smile Vernon had given Dudley when he’d first ridden a bike without stabilisers. A smile of pure, paternal pride.

oOoOo

Harry lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His party had been the best: Professor Burbage, Madam Pomfrey and Hagrid had declared the fish and chips the nicest they’d ever eaten and Professor Snape had said Harry’d done a fine job on the mushy peas.

It had been such a wonderful week and, for the first time in his life, the prospect of going back to school did not fill Harry with delight. He liked Uroborus; besides being a beautiful house, it also felt like home and, whilst he was here, Harry could pretend Professor Snape was his Dad. Sometimes, as a great treat, he even called the Professor that in his head.

‘Which is disloyal to your real father’ a little voice said in Harry’s head ‘Your father who died for you. You’re such a bad son.”

*“I’m not!”* Harry whispered, burying his face in his pillow. He reached out to his bedside table and snagged a leather-bound book, hugging the soft, squashy cover to his chest. After the Duelling demonstration, Professor Snape had given him a reproduction of the Exeter book, with the riddles written in Old English on one side and modern English on the other. Later on, when their guests had returned to Hogwarts, Professor Snape had said Harry that, if he liked, Harry could work on solving one riddle each week and then discuss the riddle over Saturday afternoon-tea with Professor Snape.

There were ninety-five riddles in the Exeter Book.

‘He probably is only being nice to you because it’s his job’ the voice taunted ‘He’d think you were pathetic if he knew you called him Dad. In fact, he’d be so disgusted that he’d probably do the same as Aunt Petunia…’

*“Shut up! He would never!”* whimpered Harry, clutching the volume tightly.

*“Freezzzing raindrops chill each ssscale,
Icy earth and bruising hail,
Husssh my hatchling, do not wail,
Curl up; your head under your tail.”*

Harry looked up; who was that singing?

*“Winter winds will not prevail,
Sssummer comes to hill and dale,
Husssh my hatching, do not wail,
Curl up; your head under your tail”*

Harry climbed out of bed, slipping his feet into his slippers. The voice was soft and sibilant, a little higher than Professor Snape’s baritone and slightly more clipped, yet still very melodic. Harry tiptoed across the landing and up a flight of stairs, following the song.

*“Sssun-warm rocks, ssoft, ssummer rain,
The light prevailsss once again,
Come Hatchling, do not remain,
The world once more iss your domain”*

Harry looked up into the green eyes of Salazar Slytherin and the portrait smiled down upon him kindly.

*“You have my eyesss, ssnakelet, are you of my blood?”* the old wizard asked in Parseltongue.

*“No Sssir… That iss, I don’t know… My hatcher, ssshe was a muggleborn, you sssee, and my eyess are like herss. Or sso I'm told. She died when I was a hatchling”*

*“Ah. Well, there iss often a drop or two of magical blood in every muggleborn witch or wizard. It might be mine that gave her and you thossse eyess. Now, sssnakelet, why do you schccch?”* hissed Slytherin.

*“Hurtss insside my heart. My head sssays bad thingss about me.”*

*“What bad thingss, sssnakelet?”*

*“That I’m wicked, kin-biting wretch. That I deserved to be bitten and left in frost with no meat. That Basilisk doessn’t really love me or want me.”* schcched Harry sadly.

*“Who bit you? Who left you in the frost? Who denied you meat? Not your Basilisk?!” spat Slytherin furiously.

*“No! Not my Basilisk. Basilisk gave me meat and repaired my skin! He is warm to me, like I am hisss snakelet.”*

*“Who hurt you? Does your Bassilisssk know? Has venom been given unto them?”* Slytherin insisted, still irate.

*“Yess! Venom was given unto False-hatcher but I am not sad. Kin-biting, wretched!”*

*“No! False-hatcher is the kin-biting wretch. Not sssnakelet!”* hissed Slytherin reassuringly. *“You are just a snakelet: no kinsss-blood is on your fangsss. A sssnakelet needing much warmth.”*

*“I don’t want to go back to big-nest. I want to sstay in ssmall nesst with my Bassilissk.”*

*“Many ssnakelesss wisssh to sstay here, yet you musst grow and earn much knowledge, so that you can give venom onto them who would bite you or your snakelets.”* Slytherin hissed. “You will return to Uroborusss, your Bassilissk hass much warmth for you.”*

*“Really?”*

*“Yess. Hiss false-hatcher bit him ass your false-hatcher bit you; he hasss little warmth but you are like the sssun to him, you warm hiss ssscalesss.”*

Harry smiled and yawned. Slytherin started to sing again softly *“Winter winds will not prevail, Sssummer comes to hill and dale…”*

When Severus ran into Slytherin’s chamber the next morning, after a frantic search for his erstwhile charge, he found both boy and portrait happily asleep, basking in the rays of the morning sun.