"Daddy, my trow-sirs won't but-nin," his son whimpered one morning a few weeks later. Harry was pouting as he valiantly tried to make the offending piece of clothing work.

Severus kneeled before his son and saw that he was right. His trousers looked as though they had shrunk overnight, but he knew better. The lad's shirt was also too small, and he had a feeling he knew what would happen when they got to the boy's shoes.

"Looks like you had a growth spurt last night," he informed his child with a small grin.

"I didn't mean to!"

Severus chuckled and pulled Harry into a hug.

"It's a good thing, little one. It means that you're getting bigger just like you should."

"Oh."

"Here," Severus said, waving his wand and enlarging the too small clothing.

"Brilliant!" His son chirped as he finally was able to button his slacks.

Abruptly, an odd look came over Harry's face and he looked up at Severus questioningly.

"You're still my daddy, right?" The boy crept closer to him hesitantly.

"Of course I am," he answered in an affronted voice.

"I'm not too big fo' you?"

"Never, brat!" Severus pulled his son in his arms and stood up with him. Harry latched his still relatively tiny arms around his Tall Man's neck and relaxed.

"And you love me, right daddy?" Harry whispered in his ear.

"Always," Severus whispered back fiercely.

"Really?"

"Yes, son."

. . .

"Daddy?" Little Harry asked from where he was trotting beside his father. His daddy's last class of the day had finished and they were on their way to Hogsmeade to buy him some new clothes.

"Son?" His daddy squeezed his small hand lightly. He could only hold two of his daddy's much bigger fingers in his hand, but his Tall Man didn't seem to mind.

"Do you still love me now?" He didn't know why he needed to ask, he just knew that he did.

"Yes," his daddy answered back with a small patient smile.

"What if, what if you wake up t'morrow and tink to yourself, 'I don't want dat 'tupid boy no more.' Would you do that daddy?" He glanced up anxiously at his Tall Man, half afraid of what the answer might be.

"What stupid boy? The only stupid boys I have around are in my classes."

"Well," he started out in a small uncertain voice, "auntie always said dat I was dumb as a bag o' rocks, and dat's why no one'd ever want me." He looked down and watched the ground for a few moments of silence.

He barely noticed that they had stopped moving, but he could tell that his Tall Man was looking rather intently at him, just prior to crouching down next to him. His daddy pulled his face up towards his with a gentle hand and got Harry's attention with the safe calm look in his eyes.

"Your auntie is a vile creature who ought not be allowed to breathe the same air as other humans, let alone attempt to raise children," his daddy said slowly.

Harry didn't understand all of the words, but he got the intent behind them. It made his tummy feel warm, and instinctively he leaned closer to his father.

"I am proud to be your father, and I wouldn't trade you for anything," his daddy said with a deep voice.

"Not even for a potion?" He whispered.

"Never."

"Not even chocolate?" He peered wide-eyed back at his Tall Man.

"Harry, you are worth more than all of the chocolate in the world," his daddy said with another grin.

"All of it?" He asked, somewhat flabbergasted.

"More than all of it," his daddy confirmed as he stood back up with little Harry in his arms this time.

"Wow," he whispered into his Tall Man's ear. Of all the things his daddy could have said to make him understand, that statement had had the deepest impact on him.

"Love you daddy," he added a few minutes later, kissing his Tall Man on the cheek lightly and getting a smile in return.

"And I love you son."

. . .

The older Albus was frustrated with the world at large. What good was going back in time and watching himself make the same idiotic mistakes if he couldn't do anything about them? He had tried talking to his younger self like he had been able to do with his sister when she was younger, but it was to no avail. The younger Albus simply could not hear him.

Then again, as he watched the mess that his life had taken on, it was unlikely that anyone could have gotten through to him then. Merlin knew that there had been other attempts by those around him.

It was hard to pinpoint exactly when the idealism between he and his lover had turned into fanaticism, but there was no doubt in his mind about the truth of the matter this time around.

He watched himself being introduced to Hitler, but this time he was able to see the insanity looking out from the other man's eyes as they talked.

Fanaticism for their cause had driven everything else out of his mind at the time; clouding his view of the world, and of Gellert. He could see now that his lover had fallen much farther into the allure of being able to control the world around them, by making things right.

"Merlin," he muttered to himself in angry frustration. "Everything was so black and white for us. Either you were a pureblood and therefore blessed in the eyes of Magic, or you weren't and were damned to suffer."

"How many half-bloods and muggleborns were sent to the concentration camps alongside the Jews?" James asked him in a rare burst of seriousness.

Albus refused to answer, because the answer was the same for both groups: Too many.

And where was his sister during all of this?

Locked away in a room that was barely inhabitable; a house elf her only company for many days on end, while he had been out of the house, trying to save the world from itself.

His only saving grace in the whole ordeal had been his relative lack of involvement in the camps themselves. He had been far more involved in researching the magical lineages of the purebloods, as well as the half-blood and muggleborn populations.

Still, it had been his research that had allowed Gellert to make his choices of who was to die—both immediately and after a long drawn out period of suffering. And he had also been directly involved in the building of the wards that had kept those innocent magical folk from ever leaving their deathly prisons.

Of all the things he had done, those particular memories had stayed with him throughout his adult life. Seeing it for a second time didn't make it any better either. In fact, it seemed that his memories had faded out a bit over time; making the reality of the situations much more heinous than he had recalled.

It had been enough to turn his stomach, and after he had vomited up his guilt, he had fallen to the ground and wept.

It wasn't his first cry of their journey, and he doubted rather strongly that it would be his last.

. . .

The townspeople of Hogsmeade stared on in amazement as Severus carried his son into town. Never before had anyone seen him so gentle with someone so small.

The first place they visited was Gladrag's Wizardwear, which is where they met Madam Gladrags. She was an older witch who had run the store by herself after the unfortunate passing of the late Mr. Gladrags. The rumor was that he had choked to death after trying to eat his pillow during a dream one night, but no one except his widow knew the truth, and she was very tightlipped about the entire affair.

Madam Gladrags had known Severus Snape for quite a while, between her memory of him as a boy and his more recent days as a professor. She preferred not to think of the time that he had spent as a Death Eater, instead blaming it on the follies of youth.

However, in all of the many years she had known him, both in passing and in business, she had never seen him voluntarily in the company of a child—let alone happy about it!

In fact, as she thought about it a bit more, she couldn't remember him ever being very happy about much at all. Personally, she thought it a bit of a shame. True, he had always been a bit rough around the edges, and certainly his social skills left something to be desired—but in the end, he always paid his bills on time, and he always said thank you. In her experience as a shopkeeper, both things were very welcome, but the latter was certainly less common; particularly from someone as young as he.

"Good day Madam Gladrags," he greeted her that evening, said small boy still held protectively in his arms.

"Good day Professor Snape," she answered courteously. She received most of her customers during the day, and generally only kept the shop open in the evenings for the adults at Hogwarts. At present, he was her only customer.

"And who might this be?" She asked, peering around to try and catch the eye of the small black haired boy who had been watching them shyly from his perch against Severus's chest.

The boy looked at Severus and Madam Gladrags saw the Potions professor give a small nod. Inwardly, she smiled to herself as she waited for the answer to her question.

"Am Harry," the child said in a voice barely above a whisper. Madam Gladrags watched in interest as Snape cleared his throat, causing Harry to duck his head with a grin. "I'm Harry Snape," the child corrected himself, looking back at Severus with a questioning look, which was met with another nod and a small uplift of the man's lips.

"Severus?" She finally asked, looking straight in the dark eyes of her would-be patron.

"This is my son," he admitted in a soft, yet fiercely proud voice.

Madam Gladrags was a bit surprised, but kept her shock to a minimum on her face.

"Well Mr. Harry Snape," she smiled brightly at the tiny boy. "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance! What can I do for you two this lovely evening?"

And she was very happy to meet the child, particularly when Harry looked back up at her with a gentle smile.

It was no wonder that Severus had changed so much. His little boy was absolutely adorable, and Madam Gladrags hoped that they would become frequent visitors of her shop.