The small boy shivered under the cold moonlit sky. He was dressed in only a pair of baggy shorts and a ragged t-shirt that was much too large for him. The child's bare feet were nearly frozen from where he sat hunched over on the frosty pavement.

"Get out of my sight, boy!" His auntie had screeched at him that evening. He had tried to make his way to his cupboard, but had been thwarted by his aunt.

"Get out! Out! I don't want you dirtying my household for the rest of the night!"

She had promptly tossed him out the door into the frigid winter air, where he had landed rather ungracefully at a heap on the walk.

That had been at least two hours ago and the small boy was beginning to wonder if he was truly going to survive the night. He hadn't eaten anything that day, and his extremities had long grown numb.

He shook his head in an effort to keep alert. It would be so easy just to give up and die out here alone. He was quite sure that no one could possibly ever miss him.

How very wrong he was.

"Harry."

He jerked, barely able to move from the trancelike state he had been nearly dozing in.

Had he really heard a voice say his name?

His relatives never called him by his name; to them, he was always just "freak" or "boy." He must have dreamed it.

"Harry."

He shook his head slowly, trying to make himself focus. For an instance, he could have sworn he had seen a hand—a lady's hand—reaching out to him. Did everyone hallucinate before death?

"Harry, it's time to get up."

He squinted out into the darkness in front of him. The voice sounded . . . nice. It was gentle. Maybe it was talking to some other little boy called Harry. Surely no one would speak to him in such a way.

"My little one," the hand reached for him again and he took it without thinking. In his nearly frozen state, it felt no different than anything else, and yet, it was.

"Come with me," the whispered voice of the woman sounded so familiar.

"Okay," he answered before disappearing off of the cold walkway.

. . .

Severus Snape awoke with a jerk. He often had nightmares from his time spent under the thumb of the Dark Lord, but he could remember no dreams—good or bad—before waking.

He tried to lay back down and go back to sleep, but he couldn't help but feel that something was off. With a sigh, he swung his long legs over the side of the bed and put his slippers and robe on, then quietly made his way out to the living area of his quarters.

He turned the corner of his soft worn couch and came to a dead stop as he stared dumbfounded down at the small figure crouched on the floor at the other side. He blinked and realized with a start that it was a just a little boy, possibly no more than three or four years old. Hesitantly, he took a step forwards and then another when the child didn't move. The boy continued to stare at the floor as though he hadn't noticed Severus's entrance into the room.

Severus sank down onto the edge of the couch as he continued to stare at his uninvited visitor. The boy's messy black hair was dirty and matted down, and now that he was closer, he could clearly see the child's bone structure poking out from underneath pale, almost bluish skin.

Blue?

Sweet Merlin, he's nearly frozen.

The child could die if he didn't do something soon.

. . .

"Why are you on the floor?" The voice penetrated his consciousness slowly. He looked up and was amazed to find himself inside, sitting beside a couch. Upon the couch sat a tall man dressed in black nightclothes and a robe. Clearly Harry had awakened the man, and he felt a short burst of guilt.

"Why are you on the floor?" The man asked again and he blinked at the odd inquiry.

"Auntie says that only people gets to sit on the furniture," he answered very slowly, his tongue and mouth having to work extra hard to compensate for their nearly frozen state.

"And what pray tell would that make you? You're much too small to be a goblin," the man said with a smirk.

"I'm a freak," he answered in a very matter of fact manner; parroting the words he had repeatedly heard come from his relative's mouths.

"Codswallop," the man's voice was hard and he shrank back in fear, not knowing how the man would react.

"You are a person, the same as I am," the man in black said to him in a gentler voice.

"But auntie said—," he started, only to be cut off by the man's sudden movement towards him. He held himself very tightly as the man came to where he was, before kneeling down next to him.

. . .

Severus easily picked up the small almost frozen child and then sat back down on the couch. The boy had stiffened even further when he had touched him and it sent warning bells off in his mind.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said in a soothing voice to the small child curled up tightly in his lap. Severus could feel the cold from the boy's skin seeping through his pants, and without thinking, he opened his robe and surrounded the child with it. Then he pulled the boy in next to his chest and put his arms around his back. Thankfully, the fire was still going strongly in his fireplace; so the room was fairly warm, but he knew that the child needed to raise his body temperature more quickly than either he or the room could help with.

He looked down at the small lump of boy that was pressed in tightly against his torso and he had to fight against smirking to himself as he imagined what others might say should they see him like this.

. . .

The man's body was like a furnace next to his chilled skin, and although it was somewhat painful to be next to, it was also amazingly comforting. He couldn't help but stretch his arms out a bit around the side of the tall man.

. . .

With the boy pressed securely against his side, he stood up and walked them both over to the doorway that led to his personal potions' lab. He pressed his hand against the enchanted door and it opened, allowing them entry. With a purposeful stride, he quickly made his way over to the cabinet that held his completed potions.

Once he had the needed potions to combat frostbite and the pain that would accompany the warming of the boy's skin, he turned around and headed back to the couch that they had come from.

He looked inside his robe to where the boy was still pressed silently against him and was momentarily taken aback by the sight of two bright green eyes staring intently back at him.

"You are very nearly frozen through, little one," he murmured softly, uncapping the first potion with the fingers of his left hand.

"Auntie told me to get out," was the soft and unexpected reply.

"Out of her sight?"

"Out of her house," was the softly spoken correction.

Such bright green eyes! They remind me so much of my sweet Lily.

"And she didn't have you put on a coat or any warmer clothes?"

"Don't have no warmer clothes," the boy shivered suddenly and Severus looked down at the potion he had waiting ready in his hand.

"We need to get you warmed up before you get sick," he said, stroking the thin back of the boy.

Before you die, was his unspoken addition.

The potion he had the boy take was not a particularly pleasant tasting one, but the child surprised him by not making any reaction to drinking it.

Once again, the boy's bright eyes caught his attention and he found himself thinking of his friend.

"I had a friend once who had the same eyes as yours," he told the child, surprising himself with his admission.

"Was she nice?" The boy looked up hopefully at him and he found himself unable to speak.

"How did you know that it was a 'she'?" He asked instead.

"I dunno," the boy looked confused.

"She was very nice," Severus continued softly.

He uncapped the other potion and the boy surprised him again by opening his mouth obediently. Once that was complete, Severus banished the empty potion vials back into their places in his lab; aware that the child's attention followed his every movement as he did so.

. . .

He was warm, he was safe, and if it weren't for the persistent ache in his stomach, little Harry would already have fallen asleep.

The tall man was still looking at him, but he found that he was not threatened by the man's gaze; certainly not like he was with his auntie's. Somehow, she always made him feel as though he had done something horribly wrong, even if all he was doing was sitting there quietly breathing.

. . .

The child was clinging to his side like a baby opossum to its mother. It was a ridiculous mental image for a figure as stern and imposing as he, but it was fitting nonetheless.

The boy was rail thin, little more than a tiny sack of bones; each of which he could feel from where they were pressed against him.

He has been starved.

It was an infuriating thought.

"Kayla," Severus said, summoning one of his personal house elves with a word.

There was a pop of displaced air, and then Kayla was standing in front of them. At his side, the small boy gave a cry and buried himself even tighter against his body; somehow managing to worm his way around to the small of Severus's back in the process.

"Masters Snape, what can—? Oh!" The small elf said with a squeaky high pitched cry, wringing her hands together as she did.

"Hold on," he instructed the elf, as he turned his body around enough to grasp the small boy by his shoulders and pull him back out into the light.

Now holding a little squirming boy in his large hands, he presented said child to the elf for a moment, before pressing the lad squarely into his chest.

"Hush, it is only a house elf. Have you never seen one? I suppose not, judging from your reaction," he murmured mostly to himself, unaware of how soothing the little one was finding the sound of his voice rumbling against his much smaller body.

"Kayla," he said, turning his attention back on his elf for a second, "I need a small bowl of warm broth and some clean clothes for the child. You saw his size; perhaps you can find something in the attic, but if not, feel free to make something." This particular Snape elf was well known for her sewing prowess, which was why Severus had called her.

"Yes sir, Masters Snape," she said, nodding her head energetically, her bulbous eyes bright and shining with the prospect of providing help, especially to a little one in such obvious need.

Then there was another pop, and then they were alone once more.

"In the meantime, perhaps we can find you a bath," Severus said, looking down at the bright green eyes that were once again staring up at him.

. . .

Little Harry didn't like baths. They hurt. They scared him. Auntie's nails pinched his skin; leaving blood filled crescent shaped marks that he would find afterwards. The bath water would scald his skin, and Auntie was never too careful about his head in regards to the sides of the bathtub. Sometimes she scrubbed him with a wire brush and he would scream, resulting in a need for her to punish him later. And always, he could feel her hands around his throat, threatening to snap his neck like some kind of wayward chicken.

No, it was fair to say that little Harry didn't care for baths in the least.

"No! Please! No bath. Please," he begged, as he felt the man stand up, arms still firmly around his back.

"Baths are nothing to fear," the tall man soothed.

Little Harry whimpered, but stopped protesting; knowing all too well that the fight against big people was ultimately fruitless.

Meanwhile, the man carried him into presumably the bathroom, and then knelt down beside a large claw footed tub. Only one arm was around Harry's back now, as the other was fiddling with the water that he could now hear pouring into tub next to them.

He whimpered again, he couldn't help it. The word "bath" brought back so many bad memories for the little boy; scenes filling his mind's eye of him screaming and being slapped for it; seeing his skin turn bright red with the burning water; watching his aunt "slip" and accidentally nearly drown him. He was quaking in fear by the time the man finally deemed the water ready and began to remove his overlarge shirt.

"Please," he gasped, "please," he seemed unable to form sentences now, his fear completely overriding his ability to do much else.

He could only clamp weak fingers down on the tall man's soft pajama shirt and peer helplessly up through the dirty mane of his hair.

"Look here," the man said, showing him the water. It wasn't very deep, barely enough to cover his rump—little as it was.

"I won't hurt you; nor will I allow you to be hurt. That's all I can promise, but trust me when I tell you that it is enough." The man's dark eyes were piercing as they looked at one another, and he felt himself relax his grip ever so slightly from around his dark shirt.

"Baths hurt," he argued in a whisper.

"They should not," the man disagreed with a shake of his head.

"Water hurts," he whimpered, trying to keep his tears at bay by biting down on his lower lip.

He watched the tall man's jaw clench and he drew back in fear. The man was angry with him!

"Am sorry! Please. I'm sorry," he said, holding himself as he curled up into a tinier space. It completely escaped his notice that the man's arm was still holding him close even as he let go.

"Water should not hurt," the man said in a softer voice as he became aware of little Harry's anxiety. Little Harry watched carefully, but the man's anger seemed to have dissipated with that statement.

"Would you like to touch it?" The tall man asked him carefully. Little Harry shook his head in the negative. The man—as nice as he seemed—could still get behind him and push him in when he wasn't looking.

"Would you like me to touch it?"

Little Harry hesitated at this; his Auntie had never suggested anything that might potentially cause her pain.

"Okay," he whispered.

He watched as the man leaned over the edge of the tub and reached a hand in. He held his breath as the long fingers came near the bathwater, and then continued on downwards into the clear liquid itself!

"It no hurt?" He asked, curious now.

"It didn't hurt," was the response. A wet hand was now resting on his forearm and he touched the skin carefully. The man held himself completely still as he did so—something that was not overlooked by Harry.

"I will not hurt you—only monsters hurt children," the man added.

How many times had he thought the same thing about his Auntie?

. . .

The child looked at him warily as Severus slowly lowered him into the bathtub. The lad's body tensed just before he placed him into the water, but then relaxed as soon as he actually came in contact with its mild warmth.

"All right?" Severus smiled down at the tiny boy.

"Yeah," was the whispered response; although the child's grip did not slack from his hold on Severus's hand.

He washed the bruised and abused skin with a soft motion, his hand sure and steady as it cleaned away the dirt and dried blood off of the young boy. His gut broiled in anger, but he hid his fury carefully behind the shields of his occluding mind. The child's eyes followed him constantly and he did not want to frighten the boy into thinking that his anger was in any way directed at him.

Auntie, my arse, he thought to himself as he took in the emaciated form of the boy in front of him.

Someone had clearly done their best to instill a sense of fear into the small child; this he could see every time he moved anywhere in the vicinity of the boy. His movements were met by flinches within the small frame of the child—something made clearer by the lack of bulky clothes.

He washed the child's hair carefully, choosing to spell away the suds and dirt with a brief bit of wandless magic, rather than make the boy endure the feeling of having water poured over his head. The lad was doing well with the bath thus far, but Severus could see that he was getting tired.

Soon, Severus was picking the boy up out of the tub and drying him with a large fluffy towel. He securely wrapped the towel around the child a few times and then carried him back through his bedroom to his sitting room.

Waiting for them was a bowl of warm broth, and folded beside it was a pair of clean underwear lying atop a child's size set of dark green footed pajamas.

"Whose are those?" The boy asked him softly, his eyes riveted on the objects in front of them.

"Yours," Severus answered with a small smile as the child's eyes got round with surprise.

He helped the boy slip on the underclothes first, and then got him into the pajamas themselves. They were made out of soft wool, and Severus knew them to be very warm. In fact, he had once worn them himself when he was the boy's size—however long ago that had been. He could see a few spots that had been patched expertly by his house elf, but otherwise they were in pristine condition.

They were a bit loose on the boy, but still managed to cover him completely.

With that task done, Severus turned his attention to the broth that was still steaming merrily beside them. It was quite obvious to him that a warming spell had been cast over it, and he nodded his head silently in approval. Putting the boy on his lap, he wound an arm around the child's mid-section and then brought the bowl closer with the other hand.

"Would you prefer to feed yourself?" He felt a bit silly for asking, but perhaps the child was older than he appeared and already had those particular skills.

The boy reached out a couple of shaky fingers towards the bowl and he pulled it away.

"You will burn yourself doing it like that," he admonished, spooning up a bit of the broth and directing it towards the child's small mouth. Wide green eyes stared up at him as he placed the spoon easily inside the boy's oral cavity; then, quick as a whip, that mouth had closed down and he found himself fighting against a good deal of resistance just to retrieve the spoon.

"You needn't try to eat the spoon," he said with a smirk. "This entire bowl is yours to eat—provided that you want it all."

The child nodded energetically at him and reached for the bowl just as Severus was spooning up some more. Not a drop was spilled while the boy methodically ate every bit of the broth, and even though the boy's eyes were definitely starting to droop towards the end, he still did not give up on the meal. He was clearly determined to finish it and finish it he did.

Severus eventually found himself with a lapful of small sleeping boy.

"Well then, perhaps we should both go to sleep," he murmured to himself as he hoisted the child up against his shoulder and made his way back into his bedroom.

He laid them both down and then covered himself and the boy up with his covers, tucking the lad in securely against his side.

No one would believe me if I told them how I spent the first evening of the holiday break, was his last coherent thought before being claimed by Morpheus.

Severus dreamed of someone that he had not seen in a great while.

Lily.

She was sitting in the chair next to his bed, a delicate smile playing across her lips.

"Do you enjoy the company of my son?" She asked him from within his dream.

"Your son?" He asked in confusion, looking down at the small lump of boy still clinging tightly to his side, even while asleep.

"I did not die just to allow him to be killed by my reprehensible sister only these few years later," she said, a fire burning momentarily in her eyes.

"His 'auntie' is Petunia?" He was aghast at the memory of the little girl he had once known turning into such a vile entity.

"Will you care for him Severus?" Her hand was cold on his arm.

"Are you certain that I am the best option?" He asked, trying to stall for time.

"Will you raise him as your son?" She continued on as though he had not spoken.

He looked back down on the child clasped so tightly against his side.

"You brought him to me tonight," his eyes shined in sudden realization.

"He's my little one—my child. Tonight, I intervened when Death was calling for him. I told him that I would take him somewhere safe. You are safe," she looked at him calmly, her green eyes piercing him deeply.

"Dumbledore will not agree," he warned, swallowing hard around the lump that had appeared in his throat.

"Dumbledore can go to hell," was her fiery response. He was briefly taken aback by the ferociousness of her reaction. It had been a long time since he had seen her temper, and Merlin help him, but he had missed even that.

"Severus," her image was less clear and he found himself focusing in just that much more to the words she was saying.

"You once asked me to give you a way to redeem yourself."

Her words struck him hard. He had asked such a thing, but it had been after her death, during his first visit to her grave.

Tears pricked his eyes and he blinked hard, not wanting to miss anything.

"Raise him as your own, love him and protect him like your own blood and you will be forgiven," she said softly, barely more than a whisper now across the side of his face.

"I—," he looked down again at the thin face still sleeping against him.

"I promise," he whispered.

Light as a feather, phantom lips brushed across his cheek, and then he was left alone in his darkness.

. . .

Little Harry dreamed that his angel had come to visit him again. She had first visited him outside his relative's house and had been the one responsible for bringing him to the tall man.

"Are you happier now, little one?" She asked him in her soft voice.

He nodded his head from where he was cocooned in next to his tall man.

"You will not be going back to your relatives."

"Where will I go?" He asked somewhat fearfully. What if no one wanted him?

"You shall live with your 'tall man,'" his angel said with a small smile from where she floated in front of him. She had red hair. He had never known that angels could have red hair.

Maybe only mine does, he thought to himself with a happy giggle.

Soft hands touched his face and he forced himself to pay attention to his angel.

"Will you promise to listen to him and do as he says?" She asked him in a quiet voice.

He nodded again earnestly.

She was fading more and he had to strain to hear what she was saying.

"I love you child. Remember, I am always with you," the words sunk into his mind, even as she disappeared from his eyes. Suddenly feeling very alone, he pushed himself farther into the tall man's embrace and was encouraged when he felt the arms tighten their hold around him.

Safe, he smiled to himself before falling deeper into sleep.

. . .

Albus Dumbledore rubbed his eyes tiredly. There was a rumour that he never slept, and as rumours go, at least this one was based somewhat in truth. Between his job, and the insomnia that accompanied it, the little sleep that he did manage was typically interrupted by horrific nightmares of what had happened in the past, in addition to what might happen in the future.

He looked around his desk and blinked again. He could have sworn that he had already gone to bed that night, but perhaps that had just been wishful thinking. He bit back a yawn and looked up across his office.

And abruptly found himself staring in the cold green eyes of the late Lily Potter nee Evans.

"Lily?" He said, barely speaking above a whisper.

"I should not have trusted you," were her damning words.

"I—," really though, what could he say to that? He had often accused himself of much the same thing over the years.

"You left him and never checked on him," she said accusingly, moving closer to him with an ethereal ease of motion.

His mind really whirling now, Albus sought to find an answer to her condemnation.

But he had none.

"Who are you talking about?" He tried gently.

"My SON, old man," she shrieked, turning ugly for a split second before flipping back into her schoolgirl image.

"Death visited the Dursleys this night," she said, speaking in a sing-songy voice.

Albus felt his blood run cold at her words and a thousand images flashed in front of his eyes at the possible implications of what that could mean for their world.

"Luckily for you, I got in His way," the light was back in her eyes in such a way that she almost seemed alive.

"Death eaters?" He croaked in relief at what she was telling him.

"No Albus," she leaned in close enough for him to see straight through her body.

"Muggles."

. . .

When little Harry woke, the room was dark. He realized that there didn't seem to be any windows in the tall man's bedroom, since even at nighttime's darkest point, it was never as inky black as it was at that point. His bladder was making urgent sounds, so he tried to extricate himself from the warm comfort of the man holding him. However, he had only moved one arm before he found the man shifting under him and soon he found himself blinking into the sudden light that had somehow appeared in the room.

"Toilet? Please?" He begged, still quite fearful that the man would turn out to be like his auntie by denying him his needs.

"Certainly," the man said, gazing oddly at him for a moment before moving them both into the bathroom.

After Harry completed his business, the man propped him on the black marble countertop beside the sink and then made similar use of the facilities. They washed their hands together, little Harry kneeling on the countertop with the tall man standing beside him. Harry repeatedly found his eyes drawn to the man's stained fingers and he wondered why the soap was not affecting the strange colors imprinted on his skin.

When the tall man made to turn off the water, little Harry reached out with the soap and tried to squirt it on the larger fingers of the man.

"What are you doing?" The man asked softly, stopping his action with a gentle hand.

"Still dirty," he said, pointing to the off-color spots with a tiny index finger. "Have to get all clean," he said, staring up at the dark haired face above him.

"Or what?"

"Or no eat. Auntie gets mad," he said, dropping his voice into a whisper.

"Well, guess what," the man also whispered, leaning over and putting his hands under little Harry's arms.

"What?" He whispered back.

"Auntie's not here," the man said, swinging him up into the air and causing a surprised giggle to escape little Harry's mouth.

Oh.

I forgot, he thought with a burst of excitement. The man had propped him on a hip and was carrying him back into the sitting room that they had been in the night before. He looked around the room and saw with interest that there was more to look at than he had seen at first glance.

The back of the couch was against the wall that formed the barrier between the sitting room and the tall man's bedroom. The couch itself sat facing the sitting room—which little Harry quickly realized shared the same space as the dining area. An old wooden table with four mismatched, but sturdy looking chairs sat in the farthest back corner of the room. It was to this table that the tall man took little Harry.

The walls that were free of both couch and table were remarkable only in that they were all adorned with bookcases of varying shapes and colors, upon which sat the most amazing array of books that he had ever laid his eyes on.

Harry's eyes drank in the details of the room, automatically memorizing as much about the living area as he could without being overly obvious about it. He knew that it was something he had always done, at least as far back as he could remember.

The tall man stopped beside the table and put one large hand down on the table itself.

Little Harry peered at him with interest as he began to speak.

"Oatmeal—enough for one adult and one child—fruit, coffee and milk," the man finished, looking at Harry with an upturned eyebrow and a smirk.

"What—?" Little Harry started to say, only to be shocked into silence as the requested food items abruptly appeared on the table before them.

The tall man sat down, moving Harry's body around so that he was now sitting on his lap facing the table and carefully began to feed him small bites of the porridge.

. . .

Severus's mind was reeling as he sought to reconcile between the images of the tiny abused child in his lap against the nightmarish memories of the boy's cruel and bullying father.

This was a little Potter? The boy was waiflike, beaten down and shy; he was nothing like James bloody Potter—nothing at all.

No, this boy reminded Severus far more of his younger self; ragged black hair hanging around a far too thin face; the rest of his body covered more or less in baggy clothing that only partially served to hide the latest batch of bruises.

Except for the bright green eyes that stared so incessantly at every move he took and the messiness of the black hair, the lad could have been a clone of the younger Severus.

And you will be forgiven, the words from his dream played back through his mind.

Could he really raise Potter's child?

Was he even fit to raise a child? He wouldn't even be twenty five until January 9th, nearly a month away. What did he know about raising children?

Absentmindedly, he wiped the oatmeal off of the boy's face with a napkin and then began to feed them both some fruit.

The child was abnormally quiet, something even the typically taciturn Severus Snape had noticed.

And overly grateful for the things that most children take for granted—like food and clothing, he thought to himself with a mild shake of his head.

Should he say something? Did not most—well, most guardians speak with their charges during mealtimes?

"Are you enjoying your breakfast?" He asked, feeling out of place.

The small boy on his lap turned and flashed a short but blinding smile at him.

"It's the best," the lad affirmed quietly.

Severus couldn't help himself. At hearing—and seeing—the child's exuberant reaction to his dull question, he couldn't help but lean over and place a kiss on the boy's now clean and soft hair. Simple wonder had filled his chest, leaving him with only a slight feeling of embarrassment at his own display of affection.

"I'm glad," he admitted quietly over the black headed child sitting calmly in his lap.

. . .

After breakfast had been cleared away magically, something that had received another look of wonder from the small child once again perched securely on his hip; they had gone back into his bedroom in hopes of getting dressed for the day.

Severus dressed himself in black trousers and a gray pullover, and then pulled on a set of lightweight black robes, foregoing the heavier teaching robes in honor of the holiday break.

The boy sat on his bed, curled up in a small ball under his covers, bright green eyes watching him as he dressed quickly and silently.

After he finished buttoning the last button on his robes, Severus looked back in his dresser, his eyes seeking out the object that had caught his attention briefly before.

Ah! There it is.

Triumphantly, he pulled out a small pair of trousers and a kelly green pullover, along with a bright blue set of child size robes. He dressed the boy easily, the child not giving him any resistance as he put the clothes on him.

Well, at least not any resistance until the end.

He finished getting the robes on the boy and noticed that the child's facial expression had changed from rapt wonder to one of slight unease. Secretly happy to see some fight in the lad's demeanor, he tackled the problem straight on.

"Something the matter?" He asked mildly to the boy once again in his arms.

He watched with interest as the child drew one finger from his own blue robes over to Severus's own black ones and then back again to repeat the action.

"Why mine not like yours?" Was the fearfully whispered question.

Severus blinked in surprise.

"You mean, why are your robes blue and not black like mine?" He wondered if the boy was even familiar with the names of all the colors.

He got a nod.

"No reason at all. Would you like for yours to be black too?" It didn't even occur to him to ask the question around the other way.

Another nod, but this one was a bit quicker than the last.

"That's easy enough," he smirked, pulling his wand out slowly in an effort not to frighten the boy. He tapped the lad's robes and muttered a phrase that quickly switched the blue to black.

Impossibly bright green eyes stared back at him.

"It's called magic," he said, laughing good naturedly at the innocent amazement that was staring back at him.

"You're a freak too!" The boy proclaimed, before clapping his hands over his mouth and flinching backwards, his eyes wide with fear.

Something hot dropped into the pit of his stomach at seeing the child's automatic reaction and he forced himself to remain calm for the lad's sake.

"Because I can do magic?" He didn't wait for a response, but continued on. "Some people think so. I would wager a guess that your Auntie is one of them?" He asked, looking intently into the thin white face of the boy.

A tiny nod was his answer.

"I want you to listen carefully to me, understand?"

Nod.

Severus looked directly in the boy's face.

"Your auntie lied to you. Having magic doesn't make you a freak. It makes you special. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Green eyes stared at him.

"Tell me if you understand me. It's okay if you don't believe me yet," he said gently, touching the lad's hair carefully with the tips of his fingers.

A nod.

"There's a good lad," he smiled and kissed the boy on his forehead just beside his distinctive scar. He found it a bit strange that until that moment, he hadn't even noticed it.

He felt a warm surge through his heart as the child smiled shyly back at him. The previous thought disappeared from his mind to be replaced with a much more important one.

Could he do this?

Maybe—just maybe he could.

. . .

Beyond the edges of consciousness, Lily smiled to herself in approval.

"Look at this one," Severus said, pointing out the potion in the book he was reading to little Harry. They were sitting on the couch, or rather Severus was sitting on the couch and the tiny boy was sitting on him.

"The Boil Cure Potion is typically taught to first years—that is, eleven year-olds—here at Hogwarts," he explained as they looked at the moving pictures in the beginning potions book together. The lad was listening to him with rapt attention, something that Severus had often wished his first years would do during his lectures.

"But remember," he continued, shaking one long finger in the air dramatically. He watched in secret amusement as the boy's mouth formed a tiny "o" in anticipation. "The porcupine quills must be added after removing the cauldron from the fire. Because otherwise, can you guess what happens?" He asked, turning to look seriously at his small charge.

"It 'splode?" Was the child's shy suggestion.

"Close," he said, smiling a rare but short smile. "It melts the cauldron and sends up green acrid smoke into the air."

"Melts?" The small boy whispered in awe.

"Melts," Severus said, nodding seriously. "Like a candle," he continued, trying to give the child a concrete example.

"Wow," the child said, his bright green eyes shining with wonder at him.

Their moment was broken a short bit later by several fast paced knocks against his front door.

Severus fought against the urge to groan, knowing all too well who was standing outside his quarters now.

Sure enough, no sooner had the knocks stopped, but his door was opening and Albus Dumbledore was striding hurriedly across the room to stand in front of them, an overexcited expression on his ancient face.

Severus wanted to growl at the old man for bypassing his wards—not to mention his privacy—so easily, but he kept his distaste to himself, not wanting to further frighten the small boy who was currently trying to burrow his way into his chest.

However, he did have a brief spot of spiteful triumph after Albus spotted the child in his arms and came to a complete and dumbfounded stop in front of him. Rolling his eyes, Severus summoned him a chair and then waited for his employer to say something after finally taking a seat.

"Severus! That's Harry Potter!" Albus said in clear amazement.

"Very good Albus," Severus said sarcastically. "10 points to any house of your choice, provided that it ends in the letter 'n'."

"What in Merlin's name are you doing with Harry Potter?" The old man continued, oblivious to what he had just said.

Thankfully, said tiny boy had finally stopped his insistent tunneling into Severus chest, and seemed content to merely hide his face in his robes instead.

"Well, until you interrupted, we were having a very pleasant time learning about the 1st years' potion course work," he said with a sneer, leaning back against the cushions and crossing his legs imperiously.

"Severus, this is no time to joke," Albus responded, sounding a bit more like his atypical self.

"I don't joke about potions," he replied with a deadpan expression.

"Of course not, my boy," Albus answered with what was supposed to be a placating smile.

"Albus, why are you here?" He asked in exasperation.

"To talk to you about Harry Potter of course," was his employer's most damning answer.

Severus looked at the man seated across from him and saw that the familiar twinkle was back in his eyes.

He thinks he is back in control, he thought with distaste. We'll see about that.

. . .

Harry listened diligently to the conversation going on around him, but it was safe to say that he didn't really understand what was going on. Of course he was here; his angel had brought him, so why would he be anywhere else?

"Severus, is that really Harry Potter?" He heard the old man ask.

The tall man looked down at him for a second before looking back up.

"Would you like him to stand up?" The man asked with a smirk. And then barely a heartbeat later, he heard the exasperation in the black haired man's voice when he answered, "Yes Albus, it is."

He listened to their banter for another few minutes before finally hearing a comment from the old man that made his blood run cold and his breath hitch in his throat.

"Severus, you know as well as I do that he can't stay here. He must go back to his relatives for the blood protection!"

Little Harry felt tears swarm his eyes when he didn't immediately hear a response from the tall man. Anxiously, he shifted a bit within the man's warm arms, but luckily wasn't forced to wait very long. Two things happened simultaneously: His tall man tightened his hold on him, drawing him further into his safe embrace, and the man angrily spat out an answer.

"Like hell!" His tall man tensed under his body, but for once little Harry could tell that the anger wasn't directed at him.

He heard a weak sounding, "Severus," come from the old man, but it was silenced by his tall man's quick response.

"Tell me Albus—who is the bigger monster? The one who deliberately hurts an innocent child? Or the one that stands by and allows it to happen?"

Little Harry's thumb found itself into his mouth and he curled his other hand tightly around the soft fabric of the robe, bringing it up around his ear as he laid his head down on the man's chest; essentially turning the tall man into a large personal safety object for himself.

"No Albus, I am not joking," his tall man hissed, standing them both up as he began to pace around the room.

He didn't catch the old man's response, but he did hear his tall man's.

"You want him Albus? You're going to have to do it yourself—get your own bloody hands dirty."

A moment of silence passed, followed by a surprising statement from the old man.

"I saw Lily last night Severus."

It seemed such an unlikely thing to say in the context of the conversation. Harry wondered—rightfully—if the old man hadn't said it on purpose like that just to try and distract his tall man from their conversation.

Luckily, for them both, his tall man didn't react to such the enticing bait, and instead threw back a surprise of his own.

"As did I," was the cold response, the man who held him answered, coming to a complete stop in the middle of the room.

"I should wonder what she said to you. She very clearly told me that his relatives tried to murder him. You see, that's why she brought him to me."

The silence that followed his tall man's statement after that comment was longer and maddening to the little Harry, who had begun fidgeting nervously again. Distantly, he felt warm hands gently rub across his back, and he allowed himself to relax into them, almost missing the answer from the old man as he did.

"His relatives, Severus?" Was the suddenly hushed response.

"His aunt."

Little Harry missed the accompanying glare that the tall man gave to the old man, but he could hear the anger in the man's voice nonetheless.

"You must have misunderstood," the old man said in a disbelieving tone.

"Would you like to view my memory of her visit? Or are you implying that perhaps Lily was mistaken?"

"Now, don't misunderstand me, my dear boy," the old man said, quickly backpedaling.

"As long as you don't try to judge me, old man."

The two men stared at each other angrily, neither willing to speak. It could have gone on indefinitely if not for the sudden sound at the door.

. . .

Severus pinched the skin on the bridge of his nose and fought against hexing the old man sitting so innocently in front of him. As if that were not difficult enough already, now he had to deal with another damned visitor!

A small hand was patting his chest and he looked down into frightened green eyes.

"What's wrong?" He asked, knowing it could be any of a thousand things. Perhaps they were wrong to have this conversation here in front of the boy, but where else could the child be? He didn't trust to leave him alone in the next room—what if he made a mess of his things?

Or got himself hurt somehow, his conscience pointed out frighteningly.

It was all that damned Dumbledore's fault for striding into his quarters like he belonged there! Severus looked up to glare at the old man, but the old wizard wasn't in his seat. His eyes automatically flickered over to the doorway, only to find that Albus had answered the door for him.

Merlin, save him from the rules of polite society!

"Will he take me back to auntie?" A little voice invaded his mental ranting, bringing him back to the present with a sharp figurative slap to the head.

"No," he answered, shaking his head back and forth for emphasis as he looked down at the tiny boy in his arms.

"But what if he does?" Tears began to fill those wide green eyes and he swallowed hard, angry at the harm Albus had continued to cause the little boy.

"I won't let him," Severus said definitively, unconsciously awakening some very old magic with his words.

The child was still staring uncertainly at him, and although he felt rather foolish in reassuring a tiny four year-old boy, he felt it necessary to so in that moment.

"I swear that I will protect you," he said softly, his voice completely serious. For a moment, despite their being completely cocooned in the dungeons, a breeze smelling of fresh flowers wafted across them both.

To Severus, it seemed that Lily had heard his statement and was sending them her mark of approval.

For little Harry, the smell reminded him of a memory long buried in his mind; one where his mother had been with him and everything had been all right.

It was a smell of safety, a smell of love.

"Okay," the little boy nodded his acceptance against Severus's chest.

"Harry?" A female voice disrupted them from their conversation.

Severus looked up in annoyance, just as the small child within his arms began screaming in terror.

Minerva McGonagall had made her appearance.

Chapter 4 – Surprising Reactions

"Severus! What on earth—?" Minerva squawked at him in a voice just barely audible over the boy's terrified shrieks.

"Just back off! Both of you!" He said in a commanding voice, shooting each of his colleagues a dirty look as he did. The child in his arms continued to writhe in his arms, clearly trying to get away from the sight of the woman now standing beside Albus, not three feet away.

"You're scaring him!" Minerva admonished, taking another step towards them. "Give him to me before you do him anymore harm!" She said, reaching her arms out for little Harry.

If anything, the little boy's screams only went up in volume, and Severus began to hear panicked words making their way out of the child's mouth as the woman made her way closer.

"No! Please!" Were two of the most frequently cried, making Severus growl warningly towards the other two adults present.

Mother of Merlin! Couldn't the idiot Gryffindor see that the boy clearly preferred him?

Minerva stepped almost directly in front of them and that's when chaos truly erupted. Within his arms, the tiny boy let out a screech that was almost inhuman in its intensity and range. That was followed by a loud boom and a bright flash of light in the space between them and Minerva that caused the older woman to pitch backwards into a conveniently placed Dumbledore.

As she fell, Severus saw that her face had gone chalky gray in shock, and the younger man wasn't at all surprised to see her eyes roll back in her head only moments later. Thankfully, Albus managed to catch before she injured herself.

Unfortunately, his small charge's fears were still not alleviated, even though the woman was now unconscious and sprawled rather indelicately across his couch.

"Don't follow us," he pointed a long accusatory finger at Albus and then moved them into the safe seclusion of his bedroom. He sat down on the bed and cast a silencing bubble around them, hoping to head off any more provocations for the still crying boy in his arms.

"We are alone now. No one is coming in; it's just us now," he spoke, trying to make the child calm down.

He might as well have not said anything. The lad was nearly hyperventilating in fear and was obviously not listening to him.

"Calm yourself!" He said, nearly desperate himself. What did he know about dealing with crying children? He had known that this was a bad idea!

"Lily, please!" He implored to the empty room; hoping against hope that she would respond and intervene in the situation.

But his plea went unanswered as the child continued to cry out his fears onto Severus's increasingly damp shoulder.

"Hush now, hush," he said to the boy, nearly pleading. He rubbed a hand down the back of the child's small soft head and thought for an instant that there was a slight change in volume level. Feeling a touch encouraged, he moved his hand over the boy's head again and then moved it over his back, rubbing the tense muscles in a loose circular motion.

Dimly, his mind fought to pull up a long forgotten memory of his mother doing something similar with him after an upset with one of the neighborhood bullies. She had calmed him with just her touch and he had hung onto her with all of his strength, crying bitterly over the injustices that they heaped against him.

Wait—he hadn't just held onto her alone, had he? There was something else poking in his mind, and he thought hard against the weight of time in order to dredge up the memory.

There! That was it. He remembered it now. He had held onto her, but he had also held on to a stuffed toy of some kind—perhaps a bear. Briefly, he wondered what had happened to that old bear, but no more recollections were forthcoming, and he eventually gave up on it.

Looking around the room, his eyes fell on a smaller pillow that was sitting unobtrusively at very edge of his bed. One of his idiot colleagues had given it to him as Christmas present, clearly not thinking through the repercussions of giving something pink to the dark potions master. Luckily—for the presenter of the gift—the pillow had been charmed against being thrown away, and Severus had been stuck with it.

With a short motion of his wand, he summoned the pillow to him, catching it easily with one hand; as the other was still involved in the very important task of comforting the child.

"I hope you don't tell anyone about this," he said to the boy whose tears were finally letting up, even though his body was still shaking and his chest was still hitching. He didn't get a response from the lad, but he hadn't actually expected one.

He fixed the image in his head of what it was he wanted to create, and then used his wand to make it happen. Moments later, the dour man from the dungeons had a soft plush teddy bear in his hand. He stared at it critically, and then also lengthened its arms with a few well placed pokes of his wand.

It was only a very pale pink now—almost white—but it was still missing something. A second later and a smirk flashed across his face as he realized exactly what that something was. He prodded the bear with his wand once more and then looked at his creation with approval. Where once the pale pink teddy bear had been naked, it was now dressed in solid black teaching robes—not unlike his own.

"Harry," he spoke into the silence that was still being broken by the sound of sniffles from his charge. It was first time that he had called the boy by his name, and the lad seemed to acknowledge its significance, turning red rimmed and puffy eyes up to look at him in surprise.

"Do you feel better now?" He asked, seeing that he had gained the boy's attention for the first time since Minerva had interrupted them.

A lower lip trembled in response, and he gathered the child tighter into his arms to try and head off the impending threat of more tears.

It took him a minute to remember it, but when he did recall his recently made creation, he loosened his grip on the lad and pulled him away just enough to look him in the face.

"I have a present for you," he said softly.

"For m-m-me?" The child stuttered in complete surprise, still sniffling. "Even though I was bad?"

"When were you bad?" Severus prompted.

"When I cried," the boy stated shamefully, casting his eyes down and away from Severus's own.

Severus put a hand under the boy's chin and forced his face upwards.

"You were frightened by the woman, weren't you?" He asked, searching the lad's face carefully.

The boy nodded slowly.

"Are you afraid that she's going to hurt you?"

Almost immediately the child nodded and then pushed himself back into Severus's arms, his small body shuddering forcefully against him.

What on earth has this little boy been put through? He wondered with his own slight touch of fear.

"Do you know who she is?"

"No," the child said, his voice muffled from where his face was pushed against the front of Severus's robes.

"Has she ever hurt you?" Severus's mind was racing as he braced for the possible accusation.

The lad shook his head in the negative and Severus let out a small breath of relief.

"What frightened you about her?" He tried again.

"She's scary like auntie," the boy whispered.

Something clicked in his mind and he went with it.

"Is it because she's a woman?"

"I don't know," the child's voice was very small and weak sounding from where he was curled up against Severus's shoulder.

Severus's hand continued rubbing over the thin back of the boy in his arms as he thought over their conversation. He didn't much care for this version of the lad. He would never admit it—maybe not even to his own mind—but he had liked talking to the child about potions and seeing his green eyes spark with wonder at what he said. No one else ever listened to him like that; no one except for Lily, and she was dead, all thanks to him.

The boy was holding onto him as though Severus were the only thing between him and insanity. Turning his head, he caught sight of the plush bear laid on its back beside them. He wondered if the boy would be put off by its color, but suspected that it didn't matter. If his theory of the lad's previous history was anything to go by, then it was very unlikely that the boy had had much in the way of presents.

Maybe he could put a bit of spark back into those green eyes. Everything would not automatically be all right—especially given that nothing in his life ever had been—but maybe it would make things better for just a little while.

"Oh my, what have we here?" Severus said in a faux surprised voice, hoping that his unusual vocal affection would interest the child enough to look up.

Green eyes flicked uncertainly up at him and then over to where Severus's head was pointed. Watching carefully out of the corner of his eye, Severus watched those same eyes widen in surprise at the sight of the bear sitting beside them. He also noticed that the boy's hands didn't immediately reach out and touch the toy, but they did twitch a bit; providing him with a touch of hope that the lad was not damaged beyond all measures.

"I think he looks rather lonely down there by himself," Severus said, nodding seriously back at the child staring quietly up at him.

For a moment, Severus thought he might have to break out even odder means to get the boy to react, but he was saved by a small question from the child who was still wrapped protectively within his arms.

"Is he all alone?" The voice was mournfully sad, making Severus blink hard at the unexpected well of emotion he felt in reaction to it.

"He certainly looks that way," Severus answered, clearing his throat unobtrusively.

"He don't have no friends?"

"He doesn't seem to, no," Severus said somberly, before allowing a brighter look to come over his features. "But maybe I know of a way to help."

"Yeah?" The child was perking up in his arms, green eyes peering up hopefully.

"Perhaps you could be his friend?" He raised an eyebrow and then turned back to the bear and picked it up by one of its long floppy arms. He brought the bear up to the lad's eye level and then prodded it forwards gently until it was resting in his charge's arms.

"I've never been no one's friend before," the child's voice quivered.

"Your mother was my first friend," he said gently, surprising even himself with the simple admission.

"Really?" The boy looked up, a searching expression evident on his face.

"I was a bit like the bear," he admitted in a low voice to the child giving him his complete attention.

"All alone?" The child looked distressed at the thought.

He nodded seriously.

"And my mummy made friends with you?" The boy's voice was heartbreakingly sweet.

"She did indeed. Do you think you could do that with him?" He pointed his chin at the bear still resting within their conjoined arms.

This time, the child nodded energetically, grabbing the bear and holding him close to his own chest; unconsciously imitating Severus's own hold on him.

"What's his name?" The child whispered solemnly.

Severus thought for a moment before answering.

"Captain," he said, wondering at himself for picking such a random name.

"I like his name," the boy said shyly, smiling up at him; his tears all but completely forgotten.

Perhaps it is a good name after all.

Severus rather liked seeing the lad smile so happily at him.

I caused that look, was his heady thought.

Maybe the boy was a different sort altogether from the other dunderheads he typically found himself surrounded with. Maybe Harry was more like Severus. Why else had he responded so positively to everything Severus had said to him?

He knew all too well what it was like to grow up different from one's peers. It was hard. It was lonely. It was embittering.

The little boy in his arms was talking softly to the bear still resting between them.

Could he stand to let this child grow up so downtrodden and alone?

"And dat's my tall man, Cap'n," the child was whispering to his little stuffed friend. "He keeps us safe," the lad whispered confidently.

And I will too, Severus thought; an unusual feeling of protectiveness for the small boy in his arms suddenly blossoming in his heart.

Little Harry had been instructed not to leave his tall man's bed—unless he needed Severus or the toilet—while the man went to rid them of their "unwelcome company." Harry had giggled over that and then had resumed speaking with his bear about the world that they now found themselves in.

"And he's nothing like Auntie," he said, dropping his voice into an almost inaudible range. "He said that I'm too skinny and need to eat more!" The little boy's eyes were round with the thought, but it seemed to him that Captain was in agreement with his tall man over the idea.

"You are not bigger than me!" He stuck his tongue out at his bear, before remembering that big boys weren't supposed to do that. At least, that's what his Uncle Vernon had said to Dudley; although, Harry had to admit to himself that Dudley did seem to be a bigger boy than most, so maybe it was still okay for him to stick out his tongue.

"At least when it's just us," he whispered secretively to his bear.

His head cocked to the head as he listened to Captain.

"Well no, it's not always just us. Don't forget about my tall man!" He said, slapping the bear across the snout. Instantly, guilt filled him and he kissed the bear tenderly on its injured nose.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," he said in bewilderment at himself. His tall man hadn't hit him yet, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't. But his angel had said he was safe! So maybe he wouldn't? Maybe if little Harry was really really good.

His bear asked him another question and he pondered over how to answer it.

"My angel said that I was 'posed to do everything he said and mind him. So maybe that's what I hafta do to be good for him," he said, his little face scrunched up thoughtfully.

Captain poked him in the side and asked something else.

"What if he asks me to do something scary? He wouldn't ask," little Harry said, crossing his arms stubbornly at his bear, who (with Harry's help) mirrored the pose and asked, "But what if he does?"

"He said he'd pro—pro—," the little boy closed his eyes as he tried to remember what the word had been. "Protect! He said he'd protect me. He said dat I'm safe, and so did my angel."

The bear looked at him and Harry listened carefully to his next concern.

"He wouldn't be scared of auntie! He's bigger'n her."

Captain pointed out—less than helpfully, in Harry's mind—that Uncle Vernon was bigger than her too.

"I know, I know. And he didn't do nothing to help me," Harry's face became sad. Feeling sorry for his new friend, Captain moved himself into little Harry's lap and wrapped his long arms around the little boy's chest.

The little boy looked down and listened carefully to his bear, a slow smile creeping over his face as he did so.

"Yeah. You're right," he smiled broader. "He'd protect me from her 'cause he cares. About me, even," the little boy's face became one of wonder as he contemplated the lovely idea.

. . .

Severus strode in to the main room of his quarters to find that while both of his unwanted guests were still present, at least they were also both conscious now. It would have been the icing on the cake to find out that Poppy's presence was needed in his quarters that day too.

"Severus, how is he?" That was Minerva, trying for all she was worth to sound contrite for something she herself had caused.

It's not as though the woman had ever cared for him when he had been upset. The thought made him sneer disdainfully at them both.

"As well as can be expected, despite being terrified out of his wits," he said, glaring at Minerva heatedly. Surprisingly enough, the woman broke eye contact with him and began to wring her hands together—almost nervously even. It served to put Severus off his stride a bit as he witnessed the impossible happening right in front of him.

Swallowing his anger for the woman opposite of him, he dared ask, "What is it?"

"Severus," Albus said towards him, the rebuke clear in his voice.

"Severus, I saw, well I saw Lily's face in what Albus has informed me came across as a bright flash of light to the rest of you."

"And?" He prodded, eyes narrowing in thought.

"She looked absolutely furious, Severus," Minerva answered, her voice dropping into a whisper as her face literally seemed to age before his eyes. "It was almost as though she was warning me to stay away," she said, trailing off.

It was apparent to Severus that Minerva couldn't grasp the idea that one of her favorite students could be so upset with her—dead or alive.

"I feel I should inform you that she brought him to me, Minerva," his previous anger for her fighting to be let loose. He ignored the glare that the headmaster was sending him, far too intent on hearing her response to his comment.

"But why did she feel it necessary to do such a thing?" Minerva looked up at him finally, a questioning look evident in her face.

"Because his dearest auntie," he said, spitting the word out of his mouth like the disgusting object it was, "nearly murdered him after casting him outside to freeze to death!"

His anger was pulsating through his body, seeking an outlet for the injustices both he and the boy had felt at the hands of their so-called caretakers—two of whom happened to be sitting in front of him now.

"That woman!" Minerva said, nearly in a growl that surprised him with its genuine ferocity. Ready to defend himself against her, he hadn't expected her to turn her fury away from him and onto the room's only other occupant.

"I told you, Albus! I told you that those people were the wrong sort for raising that boy!" She yelled, whirling around to poke her finger in his face.

"They are his only living relatives," the older man began weakly, backing away from her timidly.

"Yes, and it seemed that it was their idea to continue being the only living relatives!" She shouted, the fire coming back into her features with every word. She stood up and began stalking towards him angrily.

"Now Minerva," Albus started to say.

"Don't you, 'Now Minerva' me! I thought you trusted my word. How many times have you said that exact thing? And yet you throw it all away to nearly let Harry die at the hands of his demented relatives?" She had him pushed all the way to the wall, her face in his as she let her extreme disapproval with him be known.

"They're only muggles, my dear," was his softly spoken attempt at excusing himself.

Severus had heard enough from him.

"Only muggles Albus? ONLY MUGGLES?" He shouted, walking right up to the old man—Minerva neatly stepping aside to allow him room—and grabbing him by the front of his robes.

"Like my father was only a muggle?" He hissed at the ridiculously naïve old man.

"Or how about how Adolf Hitler was only a muggle?" Minerva asked from beside him, her voice cold with contempt. "I'm sure you remember him. After all, wasn't Grindelwald much taken with many of his views?"

Severus looked over at the Gryffindor head of house in shock. He hadn't known about that.

He looked back at Albus and was gratified to see a slight blush forming across the old man's cheeks.

"Just proof that everyone makes bad choices when they're younger," Albus answered seriously, looking at Severus pointedly.

"Maybe your placing Harry with his relatives was proof that not everyone learns from those mistakes," Severus replied hotly, not willing to allow the old man to change the subject onto him.

Not this time—not again.

"What would you have had me do?" Albus asked calmly, staring at them both as though it was the most natural thing in the world to be pushed up against the wall by two angry colleagues.

"Anything else would have been better, old man," Severus growled.

"Even giving him to you?"

Severus didn't hesitate to give his answer.

"Yes," he hissed.

"So you think you can do a better job than a woman and her family?"

Honestly, was the man even listening to them?

"Albus, a rabid dog with fleas would have done a better job at raising him than that woman has done," Minerva interjected, fixing him with a very contemptuous look.

Albus shrugged—a very un-Albus like motion that made Severus look at him suspiciously—and then said the words that both relieved and terrified him.

"Fine, then you can keep him. Perhaps you can prove yourself to be more competent than a muggle housewife," the headmaster said, the hint of a sneer on his wizened face.

The jibe stung, and he didn't bother to hide his own look of distaste towards the old man whom he'd once considered to be more friend than mentor.

"Though I wonder Severus," Albus added, narrowing his own eyes thoughtfully, "how long it will be until you begin to emulate that father of yours that you so despised." And with that, he flung off Severus's hands and stalked to the door, not bothering to look back at either of them as left.

The old man hadn't even bothered to slam the door.

. . .

Severus stared at the door that the older wizard had left through, barely blinking as his mind sought to snap out of the shock of the statement that the old man had just tried to condemn him with. A hand touched his shoulder and he jerked himself around, coming face to face with a sympathetic looking Minerva as he did.

"He's simply trying to rile you—make you doubt yourself," she said knowingly. "How else do you think he'll win this unspoken bet between you two?" The woman shook her head and stepped around him towards the exit.

"Personally, I think you will make a wonderful father," she said before completing exiting his quarters and leaving him alone to his thoughts.

Father? He thought wildly. Me? He stepped forwards and nearly tripped against the chair he had gotten out for Albus. The room was trying to tilt itself on its side around him, and he wasn't going to stand for it!

As though Fate had decided to make him true to his unspoken words, when he shakily tried to make his way to his bedroom, it resulted in his tripping again and land sideways on his couch. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to make the dizziness from the woman's last comment go away. He ran his mind through his occlumency exercises and felt himself calm ever so slightly. By the time he opened his eyes and sat up, his normal mask was in place and he felt that he was back in tenuous control.

. . .

By the time his tall man came back, little Harry felt as though he had been gone forever. The little boy jumped up from where he had nearly been dozing in the middle of the bed and hopped over the bed's edge, nearly falling off in the process. In fact, if it hadn't been for the tall man's quick reflexes, he likely would have landed on his head.

As it was, however, he merely landed in the man's warm arms with a small, "Oof!" Captain had been in his fist when he had fallen, but luckily he had managed to maintain his hold over his smaller pink friend so that they were now both in his Tall Man's safe hold.

"You were gone for a really long time," he said, pulling Captain up farther into his small arms. "Captain was starting to get worried," he admitted in a loud whisper.

"Oh he was, was he?" His Tall Man said, looking in concern at his bear.

"And maybe me too," little Harry added, wanting to see the man look at him in a similar manner.

"Both of you were?" His Tall Man said in mock surprise, giving him a kiss on his forehead and filling little Harry with a nice feeling.

"Uh huh," he nodded, resting his head against the warm chest. "And Capt'n said that he's kinda hungry too. Is that okay?" He asked, looking up with a touch of worry in his green eyes.

"Well I would hope so, given that it's time to eat dinner," his Tall Man said agreeably, turning them all around and heading back for the main room.

The little boy peered around the man's quarters but didn't see anyone else. He supposed that his Tall Man had really and truly gotten rid of the scary people. It was a good thing to know that the man had told him the truth.

Looking down at his bear, he imagined that Captain was grinning knowingly up at him and he scowled down at him.

"You can't have any of my dinner, Capt'n. You're already fat enough," he added, sticking his tongue out quickly and then reclaiming it just as fast, lest his Tall Man see.

. . .

Above him, Severus found himself smirking in amusement at the lad's antics.

The next day, after having breakfast and then making themselves presentable, Severus began preparing his small charge for venturing out into the castle proper. Although he would deny it—he did have a reputation to uphold, tiny boy or not—he was actually quite aware that Christmas was quickly approaching. Furthermore, he knew that the castle would be made up in preparation for the overly cheerful holiday, and would most likely be a treat for his younger counterpart to witness.

In addition to that self-sacrificing activity, he also needed to pay a visit to Madam Pince. He knew that the child had not reacted well to Minerva's presence, but he believed that with the right amount of training and explanation as to what the lad could expect, there was no reason for why this experience could not be a positive one.

The child was sitting next to him on the couch; legs not even long enough to dangle off the edge. Severus felt huge next to the small boy, and didn't like the feeling that he was looming dangerously over him, as it reminded him too much of his father. Thus, it was without further ado that he reached out and pulled the lad into his lap; using his arms as rails to prevent the child from falling. The last thing he needed was to have Dumbledore's smug all-knowing face looking at him and telling him he was no better than expected.

The small child was now curled up comfortably in Severus's lap, his bear held tightly in his own tiny arms as he waited with rapt attention for him to speak.

"Harry, do you know what a castle is?" He asked, looking down into expressive green eyes.

"Somewhere's big?" Was the innocent response.

"Correct," he allowed himself a small smirk as he reached out and touched the boy lightly on his tiny nose. "But this isn't just any castle; this is a magical castle. Can you guess what that might mean?"

He watched the small boy shake his head in the negative.

"It means that magical beings created this castle; making the very walls—as well as everything inside—magic, and capable of doing things that are unusual," he said slowly, trying to use smaller words in the hopes that the lad would understand.

"Like what?" The boy chirped excitedly.

"For example, the people in the paintings on the walls will talk to you. There are such things as moving staircases and even ghosts that inhabit this place."

The child's eyes were wide with wonder.

"And while most of the castle is harmless, that does not mean that everything will treat you nicely," he warned.

"Like Auntie?" The boy's voice was hushed and Severus could see fear in the green eyes that were still staring up at him.

"I should hope not," he replied, narrowing his eyes at the thought. "And if anyone or anything does treat you like that, you are to come to me immediately. Do you understand?"

A tiny nod.

"We are going to visit a friend of mine today. While we are out, you are not to leave my side at any time, for any reason. Can you do that?"

A small nod.

"My friend is a woman whose job is to take care of the castle's books. She takes her job very seriously, so you need to make sure not to touch anything without my express permission. In fact, that rule goes for wherever we are, castle or otherwise."

The child was nodding his head energetically at him.

"My angel told me to do what you says," the small child said, looking earnestly up at Severus.

"Your angel?" Severus asked, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully.

"She brought me to you! She has red hair and—and eyes like mine!" The lad nodded his head excitedly, squeezing his bear tightly around its plushy middle as he did so.

Oh Lily, Severus thought with a sharp pang of emotion.

"What else did she tell you?" He asked carefully, wondering how much—if any—he should say regarding the identity of the lad's 'angel.'

The boy's face scrunched up tightly as he thought.

"She said—she said to listen, an' do what you said, an'—," the boy trailed off for a moment, briefly looking away for a moment. "And she said that she loves me." He was already curled up in Severus's lap, but after uttering this final statement, the small child brought his knees to his chest and put his arms around himself.

"Why don't no one alive love me?" The tiny boy asked timidly after a bit of silence.

Severus swallowed painfully; overly aware that he was far out of his field of experience when it came to the subject of love. The best he could do was to tell the lad the truths he knew about the child's abominable relatives and hope that it would be enough.

"You're referring to your relatives?"

The lad shrugged one small shoulder and laid his head tiredly on Severus's chest.

"I do not know them, but I do know that they are wretched excuses for human beings who ought not to be allowed to raise a head of lettuce, let alone a bright and creative child such as yourself."

Green eyes blinked up at him in surprise.

. . .

"Come," his Tall Man said, standing them up and pulling Harry up to rest on his hip. "Enough talk for now; we have things to do today."

As they went down the hallway, Harry watched in trepidation for signs of unknown magical danger that might somehow ambush him and his Tall Man. His bear looked at him worriedly and he tried to put on a brave face for his friend.

Around them, the portraits whispered to each other about the mystery child that was cradled within the Potions Master's arms. One portrait, featuring a man and a large boa constrictor, paid particularly close attention to them, watching them in what normally would have been an unobtrusive manner. However, in the sea of gawking faces and whispering parties, his silence and stillness resulted in quite the opposite of intended results; quickly drawing the small boy's attention and soon after, Severus's as well.

"It's not polite ta stare," Harry said softly, daring to speak to the portrait with the dark haired man and his snake.

Harry could feel his Tall Man stop mid-step and turn towards the painting that the tiny boy was currently conversing with.

"I believe that I could say the very same thing," the man stated slowly, curling a lip at them both in obvious disdain.

"Ardous, what are you complaining about now?" Severus asked in a voice that said he had dealt with the cranky man at least once before.

Oddly enough, Harry was not frightened by this man, even if he did seem to be rather unpleasant. After all, it's not as though a flat canvas could reach out and hurt him, could it?

And besides, he told Cap'n in private, my Tall Man said he'd keep me safe.

Truly, Severus's hold on him was a protective one; something that the small boy could feel as well as see. Perhaps he had only known his Tall Man for a few days, but since Severus was the first in his memory to actually treat him with care and honesty, it seemed almost natural that he already found himself unusually comfortable and trusting towards him.

"You should train your boy to have better manners. Children are to be seen and not heard," the man said, eyeing the child with a critical eye.

Harry waited for his Tall Man to argue that, 'no, he's not my boy,' but the man didn't say it. Curious, he looked away from the portrait and back up into the dark amber eyes of his Tall Man.

Huh, he thought to himself, looking down at his bear with a questioning look. The Dursleys jumped at every chance they had to renounce him as their own, but his Tall Man didn't. He gave the man a hesitant smile and dropped his head back on the dark robed shoulder that had started to feel somewhat familiar to the small child.

"Ardous, I would appreciate you keeping your comments to yourself," his Tall Man replied with a scathingly harsh glare.

They continued on down the hallway at a rather fast pace. Harry was glad for his soft perch against his Tall Man's chest. He knew all too well how easy it was to potentially lose one's guardian when they were walking quickly ahead. The Dursleys had nearly done it to him on more than one occasion back before he had become steady on his feet. Those memories still frightened him, and unconsciously he tightened his grip on both his bear and his Tall Man.

In turn, as though his Tall Man had noticed his sudden burst of anxiety, Severus's arm came up higher around him, and he felt a long fingered hand begin rubbing soothing patterns on his small back.

"That man has no kind words for anyone Harry. You are not the only one that has been harassed by his bitter tongue," his Tall Man told him when they were another floor above where the portrait had spoken to him.

"Who is he?" Little Harry asked with big eyes towards his guardian.

"Ardous Ogsworth."

"Who's dat?"

"Hogwart's Potions Master from over two hundred years ago. His portrait was painted about ten years into his tenure here; a decision that ultimately had turned out to be a very good thing, since man completely disappeared during a random potions' explosion during his seventh year advanced potions making class, only a few months afterwards."

"Where'd he go?" The small boy looked up in amazement at his Tall Man.

"According to the legend, the man had been gone by the time the smoke cleared, yet no one in any of the surrounding hallways had seen him leave," his Tall Man told him solemnly.

A chill went down the tiny lad's backbone and he shivered within his guardian's warm hold.

"That won't happen to you, will it?" He asked in trepidation, blinking fearfully up at the man.

"I am much more careful than that," the man said reassuringly, stooping to press a light kiss onto his permanently tousled head.

. . .

"I was wondering if I would ever see you again, Severus," the thin woman said by way of greeting to them.

Harry was more than a little awed by the sheer number of books present around them, and that combined with the anxiety of meeting someone new meant that he was currently hiding his face against his Tall Man's shoulder.

"Irma," his Tall Man responded, nodding his head with a smirk towards her.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"He's a bit shy, Irma," Severus warned.

"So am I," the woman replied with a sniff. "What's that he's got in his arms?"

"It's his bear," Severus answered with a small smile down at little Harry.

"What's his name?"

His Tall Man looked down at the small boy in his arms and asked in a soft voice, "Can you tell her yourself? Or do you want me to do it?"

The tiny boy looked back up hesitantly before stealing a glance over his shoulder at the patiently waiting woman standing beside them. He looked down at his bear and imagined that his friend was scowling at him. "I'm YOUR bear; not his!"

"His name is Capt'n," he said in a very quiet voice to his Tall Man's friend.

"A lovely name," the woman smiled a bit at him and he ducked his head shyly at the unexpected praise.

"My Tall Man named him," he whispered.

The woman's smile became more genuine at his admission and he felt himself relax a tiny bit.

. . .

Severus was proud that the child had found the courage to speak to the austere and imposing figure that was Hogwart's librarian. True, his cheeks had pinked a bit when the lad had referred to him as his, "Tall Man," but he had not had the heart to object to his terminology, given the boy's level of insecurity.

The visit had gone as well as Severus could have hoped, and they were heading out the door towards the Great Hall when a house elf appeared in front of them, successfully blocking their path.

At its sudden appearance before them, the small child in his arms let out a small cry and buried his face in Severus's robes once more.

At least the lad's not screaming this time, Severus thought with a glare down at the elf that had surprised them.

Severus rubbed a hand down his face wearily. House elves—especially ones that did not belong to him—tired him out to no end with their constant hand wringing and anxious fretting.

"Masters Snape sirs!" The creature squeaked in dismay from the sight of the professor's angry visage standing above him. "The Headmaster is requesting you and young master in his office!"

What could the old fool possibly want this time?

"Now?" He asked in a testy voice, rubbing a hand through his small charge's hair in a soothing manner that was in direct contrast to his angry tone of voice.

"That's what he be saying, sirs!" The creature gave a hasty bow and then retreated with a small pop of displaced air.

Severus sighed and then turned his small boy.

"The headmaster—the man you met yesterday with the long beard—has asked that we meet with him in his office. Can you manage a visit with him or shall I request for the meeting to be postponed until later?"

Green eyes blinked at him uncertainly.

"Will you be there wit' me?" The child whispered around bear that he had clutched tightly to his chest.

"Of course I will. I won't leave you."

"Not even for a little while?"

"Not even for a minute," Severus said, determined to show this boy that he could be trusted.

"Okay then," the lad nodded before putting his head back down on Severus's shoulder comfortably while they made the walk to the Headmaster's office.

“Lemon drop?” 

“No thank you, Albus.  Harry won’t be needing one either; so don’t bother asking him,” Severus very nearly growled. 

The child was curled up in his lap, facing the headmaster, holding his bear tightly against his chest.  The lad was very nearly completely terrified; an emotion that showed through in his tense posture and slightly trembling limbs, not to mention the thumb that was being very insistently worked upon within his mouth. 

Severus held the boy close to him, thankful for the hidden wand holster he had up his sleeve.  

“Can I get you two anything?  Tea?  Coffee?”

The old man was infuriating in his calm disinterest in the clear and present fear of the tiny boy in front of him. 

“Albus,” Severus warned; his anger implied in the gaze he had affixed to the old man’s face. 

“No?”  Dumbledore asked innocently.  “Ah well, I felt that I had to try.  I suppose you’re wondering why I called you boys here today.” 

Severus kept himself from rolling his eyes, but only just so.  He did nothing to restrict the sneer from showing on his face though. 

“It’s a simple enough thing, I suppose,” Albus said, presenting his palms to them with slight a shrug of his shoulders.  They watched carefully as he reached into his desk, only to pull out a large sheaf of papers; all of which looked very official and pristine—a direct contrast to the headmaster’s typically scattered and unkempt desktop. 

“Sign these documents, Severus, and you’ll have custody of your young Mr. Potter,” Albus said with a small smirk upon his wizened face. 

Severus’s eyes narrowed in disbelief at the simple process that he had just been presented with. 

“Full custody of the lad, Severus; yours will be the final decision in every situation he encounters.  Do you suppose you can handle that?”

He wanted to hex the man for the contempt he could see in those blues eyes of his, but he managed to still his wand hand. 

“Certainly, Headmaster,” he stated formally, purposely putting emphasis on the man’s title in order to separate himself from the old man that much more. 

“Harry, do you understand what’s going on?”  The headmaster asked; turning sparkling blue eyes to the boy perched upon Severus’s lap. 

The child shook his head quickly and then scooted back even farther into his embrace. 

“Severus is going to be your new guardian.  He is adopting you.  Do you understand what that means?”   The old man asked, leaning in with a slightly predatory grin upon his face. 

The boy turned his head and glanced back up at Severus, the fear palpable in his wide eyes.

“You are to be his son and he will be your father,” the old man continued, not bothering to wait for the lad’s response.  “This means that you and he will be together from now up until you at least reach your majority, and perhaps past then.”  Albus leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together as he looked at the child. 

“Things will change, young man, and perhaps not for the better.  Severus will be in charge of you—for better or worse—and will be overseeing the choices to be made in your life, as well as meting out the necessary punishments.  How do you feel about all that I have told you, Harry?”  An anticipatory look was on the old man’s face and it was all Severus could do not to scream obscenities against him. 

“You’re bein’ mean to my Tall Man,” was the stouthearted accusation spoken around the small thumb that still occupied the lad’s mouth.  Green eyes stared angrily up at the bearded man before them, and Severus allowed a small smirk to momentarily grace his face at seeing the old man’s sudden surprise. 

However, Albus was not the man he was by accident, and the look of discomfort was quickly replaced by one of casual politeness.  

“As you said, he is a very tall man.  He is much bigger than you.”

“He’s s’posed to be,” was the lad’s quick response, green eyes glinting in slight warning. 

“He could hurt you, quite badly even, if he wanted to,” Albus predicted seriously.

It was his turn to look at the old man across from them in surprise. 

Just what did Albus think he was doing?  Was Severus’s furious thought. 

“He wouldn’t,” the child argued, taking his thumb out of his mouth and crossing his arms over his bear in front of his chest. 

“But he could,” Albus said, leaning forwards in a semi-confidential manner, never mind the fact that Severus was sitting right there in the room with them! 

“So could you,” was the lad’s hesitantly soft spoken addition. 

“Why do you say that?” Albus leaned back in his chair comfortably. 

“Because you already did,” Severus interjected with a hiss. 

“I don’t believe I asked you, Severus,” Albus emphasized with a dark glower that he adjusted before looking back at his tiny boy. 

“As Harry’s guardian, it would not behoove either of us if I did not stand up for his rights by telling you that this conversation is a pointless effort on your part to make him fear the only person who has ever dared to have his best wishes at heart.  Damn it, he is but a child, Albus,” Severus said in a low voice. 

“Something I am well aware of, Severus,” the twinkle in Albus’s eyes turned flint-like in the older man’s unflinching stare. 

“I’m not quite so sure that you are old man.  Why not just ask the lad for his choice?  And then the sordid topic will be over and done with,” he sneered. 

“Yes, perhaps you are right,” Albus turned calculating eyes on them both.  “Harry, you can help us decide.  Would you rather go back to your relatives, where you understand the situation that you are in?  Or would you rather choose to venture out into the unknown and take your chances with Severus?  Please do enlighten us.” 

. . .

Little Harry would have been completely lost throughout the decidedly uncomfortable conversation going on around him if not for the presence of his angel.  She had appeared part of the way through, sitting to his and his Tall Man’s left, and had helped him to understand what was being said within the discussion itself. 

Now he paused and listened to her explanation of what the old scary man had said to him, and when she was finished, he realized that they were still waiting for him to provide them all with an answer.  His Tall Man looked about ready to jump in and start yelling, but he headed him off with a heartfelt reply of his own. 

“I don’t wanna go back there!  Ever!”  He cried out to the scary bearded man opposite from them.  “I want my Tall Man.  I want him, please,” he said, turning his face into his Tall Man’s robes on ‘please’.  He wasn’t sure who he was saying the words to, but he knew that he wanted only to feel safe, and he did there in his Tall Man’s arms. 

. . .

Severus smirked back at the dumbfounded old man sitting across the desk from him and the small boy clutching at his robes tightly.  He gathered the lad—and Captain—up against his shoulder tightly, before reaching over to the documents that were still sitting untouched upon the desk.  He quickly read over the fine print, and then after determining that they were what his employer had purported them to be, he began the arduous task of signing each and every one. 

This task he completed with one hand, holding the boy tightly to his chest with the other the entire time.  The silence that filled the room while he did so was decidedly chilly, and so it was to his great—yet hidden—relief when he finally reached the end of the stack. 

He was on his way out the door when Albus finally broke the quiet that had lasted ever since his—his!—small lad’s vibrantly spoken declaration. 

“He needs to be given a full physical by Poppy before the day is out, Severus.” 

He knew that.  After all, it was standard practice for all new members of the staff, as well as any children they might have with them while working at the school. 

However, given that his bitter anger was still bubbling quite near the surface, he felt it wiser to remain silent.  Thus, he gave the old interfering wretched excuse for a headmaster a single nod and then left with the child still draped quite comfortably within his arms. 

The corridors that they walked through were the nearly empty ones that existed during the winter holiday period, and he found himself silently grateful for the solitude they provided for the long walk to the infirmary.  It was a fair assessment that he was in shock over the damnable experience that they had just had thrust upon them while in the headmaster’s office.  His mind was awhirl with the great many changes that had been thrust on him just that very day—not to mention during the week in general! 

And now, it boggled his mind to contemplate it, but somehow it had come to be that he was now a father of a tiny abused boy.  Him!  Not only was that a completely ludicrous concept to try and wrap his mind around, but it was only further complicated by the identity of the lad in question. 

Said lad was still wrapped tightly within his arms; something further emphasized by the feel of a small cold nose pressed against the base of his neck.  True, it was a rather unusual sensation to experience, particularly for such a man as he, but overall, he had to admit to himself that it was not an unpleasant one. 

In fact, he let a brief private smile pass across his face as he recalled the words the child had spoken so candidly to Dumbledore on his behalf.  It was so strange to be stood up for by anyone else around him, but for a child to do it was almost completely unheard of in his realm of experience. 

Children and adults alike feared, if not outright despised him.  It had been this way for his entire existence, and he had grown accustomed to it sometime ago.  It was a perception of himself that he had learned to cultivate over time, if nothing else than simply for the innate protection it afforded him. 

And there was the true paradox of the situation staring him in the face.  James Potter and his friends had tormented him without end, and for what?  Because he was scrawny and badly dressed?  Because he was friendless and alone? 

His father was a cruel and hard man whom he had been more than glad to get away from by attending Hogwarts.  On the other hand, young Severus had quickly learned that certain things can never be gotten away from completely.

James Potter and Sirius Black may have been younger and less inclined towards using their fists on him, but there still were significant similarities between them and his bastard of a father.  Both parties had made his life hellish; in turn, filling him untold amounts of directionless anger against not only them, but also against himself as well. 

It had been with that helpless fury that he had joined the Dark Lord on his quest to hurt those around them.  He had had a need, a desperate need to hurt those so-called perfect and happy people that he found himself constantly surrounded with.  They were the ones who had never stopped laughing at him, ridiculing him for the things that he did not have the power to change.

Certainly not at that time, was his dark thought to himself. 

Worse yet, in the end his anger had ultimately caused him to lose everything that had ever been important to him.  He had been a fool for putting his trust in something so much bigger than himself.  He had tricked himself into thinking that the dark lord was interested in his paltry concerns and desires for revenge, when in fact the man had merely used him to further his own plans. 

Dumbledore was no different.  He could see that now.  On one side stood Dumbledore, and on the other was Voldemort, or rather the Death Eaters, at least for now. 

And in between those two powers was a tiny boy.

Or rather, his tiny boy, to be precise. 

He blinked and realized that they were in front of the main doors to the infirmary.  He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked in with his small child, ready to face whatever might happen next. 

Chapter 8 – Friend or Foe?

Little Harry hung onto his Tall Man’s robes tightly as they entered the new space.  His tiny nose wrinkled up in distaste as he breathed the odd smelling air, but he wasn’t sure if he should dare give voice to such a relatively inconsequential thing, so he kept his mouth shut.  The same couldn’t be said for Captain, though. 

“Smells icky in here,” his bear groused from within his arms. 

He nodded in agreement and squeezed Captain tighter. 

His Tall Man sat them down upon one of the many beds present in the strange room, and for a brief fear stricken moment, he wondered if he hadn’t been taken to some kind of extremely pristine orphanage.   His fear caused him to clench his little fingers even more securely around his Tall Man’s robe, and he could feel heart speeding up from where he was pressed against Severus’s warm chest. 

The arms around him shifted as his Tall Man became aware of his distress and soon he could hear a calm voice speaking softly in his ear. 

“You are perfectly safe here.  No one will hurt you,” his Tall Man said. 

“He didn’t say anything about being here with us!”  He practically screamed from within his own mind towards his small fuzzy friend. 

“Don’t leave—please!”  He begged quietly. 

“I told you that I would not leave you alone, and I mean to keep my word,” his Tall Man reassured him in a deep voice that rumbled gently through him. 

“Forev’r?”  He asked in a whisper, his green eyes wide. 

“If need be, then yes,” his Tall Man said with a small smile at him. 

Harry nodded hurriedly and then quickly wiped a small robed arm across his eyes. 

“Severus Snape!”  A voice exclaimed from across the room. 

Little Harry froze and he could feel Severus’s arms tighten themselves around his small body.

He heard footsteps as the unknown person made his or her way over to where they were, and he tensed his body up accordingly, barely even breathing.  His Tall Man’s hand was moving up and down his thin back in a comforting manner, but he didn’t trust himself to relax.  It was all he could do to continue breathing. 

“What brings you here today?  Hmm?  Have you gone and hurt yourself on some fool potion ingredients gathering mission?”  The voice was a woman’s voice, he could tell for sure now.  He clenched his eyes tightly, silently begging for his Tall Man to protect him from her likely wrath. 

. . .

His small boy was stiff as a board from where he lay against Severus’s shoulder.  It would have almost been funny if not for the reasons behind the waves of extreme fear he could almost literally feel coming off of the lad. 

He shot a warning glance at Poppy, but the woman seemed oblivious to his unusually dark glare. 

“Poppy,” he hissed, pointing a finger at the small bundle that was now shaking with fear from within his lap. 

“Severus—what in the world?”  The woman said, dropping her voice into a quieter range. 

“Poppy, this—,” he cut himself, flustered as to how to explain their relationship. 

A light flickered behind Poppy’s peering figure, and he allowed his eyes to follow the strange distraction.  If he was surprised to Lily suddenly sitting on one of the beds diagonal from them, he did not allow it show on his face. 

“Raise him as your own,” she repeated to him, speaking aloud in his mind. 

And then she was gone and Poppy was staring at him with a peculiar expression.  He scowled darkly at the look and then looked back down at the small boy in his lap.  The child was looking solemnly at him, thumb firmly clenched in his mouth, but the lad’s tremors were now absent from his overly thin frame. 

He sighed, resigning himself to his duty, and then turned himself back towards the patiently waiting woman. 

“Poppy, this is my son, Harry.”

Two surprised sets of eyes turned themselves on him, but only one of those sets opted to speak. 

“Severus, what did you say?”  A nearly white faced Poppy asked, and with a swish of his wand he quickly summoned a chair and pushed her into it before she collapsed. 

Honestly, he thought in exasperation. 

“This is my son, Poppy.  I just signed the adoption papers in Albus’s office not twenty minutes ago,” he said, trying to keep his face from darkening too much at the memory of that meeting. 

“Severus, surely you are joking,” the woman tried weakly, still unbelieving. 

“I wouldn’t joke about something of this caliber,” he said with a sneer. 

“But Severus, that’s Harry Potter!” She argued in a loud whisper. 

He looked down at the small wide eyed boy still staring intently up at him and smirked.  

The lad nodded at him, clearly remembering the same occurrence with Dumbledore barely two days prior. 

“And I’m Severus Snape,” he said, looking back up at her with a sneer.  “Apparently we won’t need to wear name tags around you now.” 

“How did this happen?”  Poppy peered up at them both, completely ignoring his previous statement. 

Must I discuss the birds and bees with you?  He thought snidely, but wisely kept the comment to himself. 

“My angel brought me,” his small child suddenly interjected into the decidedly odd conversation. 

Severus looked back down and saw with some relief that the lad had rearranged himself atop his lap, and was now faced outwards towards Poppy.  Captain was still being held protectively against his chest though, in a manner not dissimilar to Severus’s own hold on the boy. 

“Your angel?”  An inquisitive Poppy prompted, her steely eyed visage already looking the lad over. 

“She has red hair and eyes like mine!”  The child chirped. 

Poppy’s eyes came back up to Severus’s own in sudden realization. 

“Yes, his angel brought him to me,” Severus emphasized with a pointed look down at the small boy watching them both carefully.  “After his idiot relatives nearly killed him,” he couldn’t help but growl.  His hands continued stroking the child’s hair gently during his explanation, and continued through his sharing of the subsequent details of just how the little boy had come to trust him so implicitly. 

. . .

Poppy continued looking at the unlikely pair sitting atop one of her infirmary beds for a few moments after Severus had finished his recounting of their bizarre tale. 

“I suppose you are here for his physical then, correct?”  She finally stated in a brisk no nonsense tone. 

The young man across from her nodded grimly. 

Her face softened as she really took in the appearance of the child.  He was clearly malnourished and showed other signs of abuse as well; such as flinching every time she moved towards him.  Noticing the bear held tightly in his arms, she nodded to herself and set about a course of action within her own mind. 

“Harry, my name is Poppy,” she said, reaching out a hand to touch the child’s bear lightly with only her fingertips.  The child allowed her action for all of about fifteen seconds, and then pulled the stuffed toy out of reach. 

“Cap’n don’t like being touched,” the boy whispered, eyes wide and fearful. 

“Doesn’t,” Severus added, stroking the lad’s head gently.  “Captain doesn’t like being touched.”

“Doesn’t,” the child corrected himself softly, his arms holding his bear in a death grip.

“Harry, I’m going to need to do check you over and make sure that you are growing like a big boy should,” she said encouragingly.

Fearful green eyes were her only response. 

“If you like,” she suggested slowly, “I can demonstrate everything I’m going to do with you on your little friend.  Captain, you said?” 

Merlin, keep me from saying that I’m going to do anything to the boy, she thought fervently. 

“Will it hurt him any?”  The child asked in a tremulous voice that made her heart clench tightly within her chest.  Severus’s scowl only deepened with the lad’s question, but she noted with satisfaction that his fingers continued to stroke over the boy’s head soothingly regardless. 

That’s right Severus; don’t let him think that you’re angry at him.

“It won’t,” she promised fiercely. 

She watched the tiny lad as he contemplated her words, finally letting out a frightened breath as he seemed to come to a conclusion. 

“Okay,” the child whispered, glancing back up at Severus for reassurance.

The very first thing she did to the little plushie toy was perform an eyesight diagnostic charm.  With a little silent tweaking of the numbers that appeared floating in the air next to the bear’s prone form, she made it appear as though it was nearsighted.  She explained what it meant to be nearsighted and then went so far as to transfigure a stray button into a tiny pair of glasses, which she carefully affixed to the bear’s face. 

Remembering the animosity that had existed between Severus and James Potter, she wisely refrained from making the glasses dark rimmed or circular.  Instead, she made the lenses oval, with a bit of a squarish edge along the top. 

“There,” she exclaimed, stepping back from the child’s toy.  “He looks very smart now, don’t you think?” 

The boy peered closely at his bear and hesitantly touched the glasses with a small shaking finger. 

“He can see?” 

“He can see much better now,” she said, noticing Severus’s speculative look towards the child. 

“Are you ready to see better now too?”  She asked gently. 

The boy looked up at Severus and pulled the man’s arms more tightly around his much smaller body before nodding yes. 

As promised, the diagnostic charm was quick and painless, and before long, the lad was blinking in surprise through his own pair of glasses. 

“What do you think?”  She heard Severus ask softly. 

“Everything’s brighter,” the child whispered with some excitement.  “But you still smell the same; so I still feel safe,” he added, causing a slight blush to come across the sallow cheeks of the Potions professor. 

Knowing better than to get herself involved in that conversation, Poppy turned back to the bear and gently arranged him so that he was laid out on the bed beside them.  She made sure to be on the far side of the bed with her face turned towards them before beginning her diagnostics. 

She slowly waved her wand over him, and then patiently took the time to explain to the small boy what it meant every time a new number appeared over a different bear part.  She noted with approval that both Harry and Severus were watching her movements very intently. 

When it came time to do the real thing on the tiny child, Harry surprised her by obediently lying down without being prompted, but still would not remove his vice-like grip from Severus’s hand. 

She had purposely caused the numbers that appeared for the child’s bear to fall within the normal ranges that one would typically find for a healthy little boy.  However, the diagnostic numbers that appeared this time were very different, adding confirmation to many of her suspicions.  It was only from her many years of experience that she was able to keep the ongoing shock of the examination from showing on her face. 

Her scans showed evidence that the small child had withstood three years of traumatic abuse at the hands of his relatives. 

What kind of bastard does this to a little boy?  She fumed silently to herself as she catalogued the numerous wounds—healed and not—that the child’s body had suffered.  Thankfully, the lad had been spared from the disastrous experience of sexual abuse, but Merlin only knew what might have happened had the boy stayed in that horrible environment much longer. 

Finally, at the end of her examination, she turned an apologetic face back to Severus.  He was standing stony faced on the other side of the bed; his hand wound tightly around the hand of the small child who was still staring wide eyed up at them both. 

“At some point, his arm was broken, but unfortunately it didn’t heal quite right,” she said softly, looking into the pained eyes of the hardened young man before her. 

“Dreamless, then,” Severus managed to say. 

“Of course,” she said softly, and then turned her attention back to the little boy still silently watching them.  His arm was back around his bear and his other hand was still within Severus’s much larger one. 

“I need to reset your arm, but I’m going to give you something that will allow you to be asleep while I’m doing it,” she said gently. 

“Will my Tall Man be here wit’ me?”  The lad asked in a tiny voice, his lower lip trembling slightly. 

Poppy glanced at Severus and was amazed at the change in his face as sat down on the bed next to the child’s small body. 

“Yes,” Severus said firmly, gently running his other hand through the boy’s sweaty hair.

“Okay,” the boy said trustingly towards his ‘Tall Man.’

Poppy summoned the Dreamless Sleep and poured out a small child sized amount for the lad, which she handed to Severus.  She watched with interest as the normally abrasive man gently fed the boy the potion.  When little Harry was asleep, he pulled the child into his arms and then turned smoldering black eyes back onto her own. 

“No sexual abuse,” was the first thing that came out of her mouth. 

A small expelled breath was his only outward indication of relief as he continued to stare unblinkingly at her. 

“Severus, who does this to a child?”  She bit out angrily, waving her hands towards the sleeping child within his protective arms.  “Nearly every one of his ribs have been broken before, and some of them more than once,” it was her turn to hiss furiously.  “Blunt force trauma,” she growled painfully.  “He is only a little boy.”

“And Albus very nearly sent him back,” Severus’s cool fury was somehow very grounding to her state of being.  She looked back at the small boy draped protectively within the young man’s arms and narrowed her eyes. 

“Come, let’s get this over with,” she said, pulling her professional demeanor back out with an angry jerk of willpower. 

Before long, they were done, and she was left discussing nutritional potions with the still surprising young man opposite her. 

Chapter 9 – Christmas Eve

 “I hope you appreciate the ironies of this situation, Albus,” a rather familiar voice said by way of greeting as he strode into his office that following morning. 

He looked up in surprise at the unexpected visitor and found himself openly staring at who was sitting behind his desk. 

“You—how?”  He tried, losing his ability to form a sentence for the first time in over two decades. 

The image of James Potter leaned back and threw his heavy boots up on Albus’s desk with a nasty sneer. 

“Let’s think about this logically, old boy,” the sneer got darker on the face of the man who would be forever young.  “First,” he held up a shimmery looking finger, “My wife and I die in order to protect our son from the wrath of Voldemort.  In turn, my son repels the killing curse onto the man who tried to kill him in the first place, and more or less,” the ghostly image focused his eyes back on him for a short heart stopping moment, “frees the wizarding world from his ‘dark reign.’” 

“What—,” Albus tried to ask, only to be cut off with another harsh glare. 

“Do feel free NOT to interrupt, old boy,” James said, raising another finger as he prepared to continue on his rant.   “Next, you put my best man and my son’s godfather in Azkaban without giving him even the pretense of a trial.”  James turned his hand around so that his palm was facing inwards, while displaying the backs of both his index and middle fingers to Albus. 

Albus swallowed, but did not say anything about the lewd sign that was staring at him from across the room. 

“In turn, that left you with the option of giving our child to the worst possible choice of all time; his magic hating relatives,” James said, unblinking. 

“Ultimately resulting in the need,” James put his feet down and slowly stood up, “for my wife to have to save him and then choose to give him to that git,” the man said, moving closer to him, “Severus Snape.” 

James Potter was standing directly in front of him; a look of pure malevolence on his face as he stared Albus down. 

“You screwed up, old boy,” the angry ghost said in a low voice that rumbled through the office.  “And now, I have to watch my Severus raise my child.  Not only that, but I have to defend Severus to you; you bloody double-crossing bastard.” 

James’s ethereal hands pushed forwards at his chest, causing a stark chill to go through his heart.  This was followed by a loud booming crash somewhere in front of him, and then he could only watch helplessly as his vision went black. 

. . .

The next morning, Severus woke up to find a small inquisitive face staring thoughtfully at him.  The child had slept for the rest of the day after having his arm reset by Poppy; only waking up briefly to tiredly eat dinner, and then promptly go back to sleep.  

“Are you awake now?”  He asked, after lighting the lamps next to his bed with a small flick of his wand; easily pulling them up into more of an upright position. 

The boy nodded at him, green eyes shining back at him solemnly.

“What are you thinking about?”  Severus asked, curious as to the reasons behind the lad’s unusually quiet mood. 

“Are you my daddy now?”  Was the child’s tremulously spoken question from within his arms. 

Severus was very aware of how important the boy’s question was, but that didn’t mean it made it any easier to answer. 

“Would you want me to be?”  He asked, voicing some of his own insecurity.  No one had ever thought of him as a ‘daddy.’  No one had ever wanted to. 

The child’s arms visibly tightened around his bear and unconsciously he found himself holding his breath. 

“What if, what if you end up not liking me?”  The lad asked instead. 

“You mean, what if I get angry at you?”  He probed. 

“Dat too,” little Harry whispered nervously, wide green eyes staring intently at him. 

Severus ran a hand through his hair, wondering for the hundredth time how he had managed to get himself into this improbable situation. 

“I will never intentionally hurt you,” he answered after some silence, earnestness showing through his dark eyes.  

“What if I’m bad?”  The lad asked shakily. 

“Then likely you will be sent to bed early and without dessert,” he said before lapsing back into thought.  “Perhaps it will also mean that you will be sent to the corner to think quietly about what you did wrong,” he added a minute later. 

“That’s all?”  Shock was evident in the child’s face and once more, Severus’s fury for his previous caretakers began welling up again in his chest.

Lily’s child, this is Lily’s child, he chanted silently to himself; focusing on the mantra until he had calmed himself down again. 

She had asked him to take the boy, and damn it, he had agreed.  And although it had only been a few days, the small child’s presence had already begun to grow on him.

It amused him that the lad tended to trot after him whenever he moved within his rooms; moving like a small silent shadow, and soaking up every utterance he made.  It was with little trouble that he had learned to keep his more violent words to himself, lest the child pick up on those as well. 

He was getting used to having a small someone around to show things to, and he had enjoyed being the one to cause reactions of amazement and happiness within those bright green orbs.  Furthermore, after their time out and about the previous day, it had become just that much clearer to him how much the small boy trusted only him. 

He cocked his head to the side and looked back at the boy still staring at him patiently.

“Would you like to be my son?”  He asked suddenly, speaking the question quickly before he lost his nerve. 

“And you won’t let Auntie get me?”  The child asked; his eyes bright with sudden hopefulness. 

“Never ever again,” he promised fiercely, pulling the boy into a secure hug against his chest.  “Never ever,” he repeated, speaking against the trembling head of the child whom he had decided to claim. 

“Never,” he added once more for the benefit of the pale ghostly figure that had appeared briefly in his peripheral vision. 

“And you’ll always be my Tall Man?”  Little Harry’s voice asked softly into his ear. 

“If that’s what you want,” he said, chuckling a bit in the seclusion of his—or rather, their—quarters. 

. . .

Albus Dumbledore was no longer in his office.  He wasn’t in the dungeons or in the Great Hall.  He wasn’t in the castle or the Forbidden Forest.

He wasn’t in Scotland. 

He wasn’t anywhere to be found in the now, let alone the here. 

He was in the then; in the what-had-been; the place referred to when one says, “Been there, done that.”

Some people would have us believe that the past was a very dark place to experience.  Black and white photographs only reemphasize this perception—regardless of whether they are enchanted moving pictures or not. 

The place where Albus now found himself in was bright and filled with life.  He was standing in a clearing, next to which sat a sturdy looking house.  He knew what he’d find if he went inside.  He knew that he’d see three happy children playing together while their parents looked on in shared amusement. 

He knew this house.  He knew the clearing and he knew that there was a well at the back of the house that was filled with the coolest and clearest water he had ever seen in all of his days. 

He knew that there was a hidden gnome population that lived in the trees around the house.  He knew that just over the next hill, there was a small village of both wizards and muggles called, “Mould-on-the-Wold.” 

He knew all of this.  He knew that it was a wonderful place filled with many enjoyable things. 

And yet, for all of his knowledge on what the place and the then was like, he still could not deny the intense fury and hatred that welled up inside of his heart at seeing his old childhood home. 

. . .

“Nice place, don’t you think?”  James Potter’s voice interrupted his silent brooding. 

He turned and looked at the man beside him.  It was somewhat reassuring to see that James was still a ghost.  He refused to look down at himself.  He didn’t care to know what he might see. 

“She’s a pretty little thing,” James remarked after two children emerged from the house.  The boy was a younger—a much younger—Albus, while the girl—.

“Ariana,” he breathed in a pained voice. 

As much as he wanted to look away and not torture himself with the image of seeing her whole and happy, he simply could not make himself do it.  It had been so very long since he had looked on her with anything more than just the eyes of his memories. 

A small girl with long white blond hair, his younger sister had been the family’s pride and joy until the fateful summer of her sixth year, when she had been attacked by those wretched muggle boys. There world had changed after that, and not for the better. 

Tearing his eyes away from the little girl who would never grow old, he turned his attention onto the ghost still floating beside him.  He was surrounded by his mistakes.  Did James think that he didn’t know that?

“In case you haven’t kept up, time travel is still outlawed,” he said dryly. 

James turned to look at him, quirking an eyebrow of his own. 

“Is that so?  We’ll just have to keep our hands to ourselves then,” the dead man said with a wink. 

“What if they see us?”  He asked with a piercing gaze. 

“They won’t be able to.  Being a ghost does have some advantages, you know.  It’s not just all Death Day parties and severed head hunts.”  James looked seriously at him and then added, “Besides, I’m a special case; always have been.” 

“That I believe even Severus would agree on,” Albus answered with a chuckle, ignoring the angry look that his companion shot at him. 

. . .

Severus made sure to add a warming charm to their cloaks before leaving the castle with his small boy that evening.  It was the first time that the child had seen the outside world that surrounded Hogwarts, and he wanted to make sure that the lad enjoyed the experience. 

He carried Harry (and Captain) in his arms through the thigh high snow drifts, pointing out various features of the landscape as they went. 

“What’s dat?”  His son asked with a nod forwards to the small house in the distance.

“That’s where one of my friends lives.  His name is Hagrid and he’s very nice,” Severus answered.

He didn’t bother to add that the half-giant was also very big.  To Harry, everyone was very big. 

“Are we going there?”  The lad asked perceptively. 

“Yes,” he answered with a small smile. 

He was glad that he had not been put in charge of yet another dunderheaded child.  Merlin knew he had enough of those to contend with already.

The rest of their journey passed quickly enough and soon they were standing outside of Hagrid’s massive oaken door. 

“What if he don’t like me?”  The tiny boy’s soft voice caught his attention right as he began knocking on the door.  He could only spare the child a short reassuring look as Hagrid’s voice called out to them from the other side.

“Comin’!” 

The large door swung open moments later, and for the briefest of heartbeats, the two parties merely stared at one another in silence. 

“Sev’rus, tha’ cannot be little ‘Arry, can it?”  The half-giant choked out in an unusually gruff voice. 

“It is,” Severus confirmed as the wild haired man quickly ushered them in. 

He sat down and placed his small boy—and Captain—on his lap for Hagrid to see.  The other man sat down with a thump at the seat across the table to them, his shocked eyes never leaving them. 

Severus, for his part, noted with much interest that Harry did not seem to be reacting in the same terrified way as he had with the other new people that they had encountered thus far. 

“I ‘aven’t seen you since you were jus’ a babe, ‘Arry,” Hagrid said with shock still etched clearly across his face. 

His small boy shook his head slowly, a distant expression on his face as he listened to the other man.  Then, without warning, the child pulled free of Severus’s arms (and lap) and hesitantly made his way around the roughly hewn table. 

Both men watched in silence as the tiny boy walked almost directly up to Hagrid’s side; stopping barely a foot away.  The lad closed his eyes behind his tiny glasses and wrinkled up his brow in concentration as he began smelling the air around the half-giant’s form. 

When the child opened his eyes again, there was both a smile on his face and tears in his eyes. 

“You saved me.  You held me in your arms,” little Harry said confidently, his words amazing both men. 

And then he did something that truly shocked his new daddy. 

“Will you hold me again?”  The small abused and permanently wary child asked the monstrous man who—although seated—still towered over him. 

Although Severus’s arms would carry the boy back to the castle, it would be Hagrid’s arms that he eventually fell asleep in. 

There was a small black bear cub sitting on his bed, staring at him.  It made something similar to a purring sound at him and then bent down and grabbed Captain with its mouth. 

Severus blinked in surprise as something small and white atop the cub’s head came into view.  It was a discolored patch of fur in the shape of a tiny lightning bolt. 

“Harry?”  He asked softly, his dark amber eyes wide with shock. 

The cub butted him with his head and then abruptly turned back into the little messy haired boy that Severus had just recently gotten used to thinking of as his. 

“Hi Daddy,” the child said shyly, tucking himself into the space between Severus’s arms with ease. 

Severus opened and closed his mouth several times, attempting to say something, but without success.  Finally he settled for rubbing his long fingers through the lad’s soft fur—er hair. 

“Harry, have you ever heard the word, ‘animagi?’”  He managed to say sometime later. 

. . .

A little girl was screaming at the edge of the marketplace.  Albus knew who it was and why.  The younger Albus soon would too. 

“What happened?”  James asked him, an uncharacteristically genuine look of concern on the dead man’s face. 

“Three muggle boys attacked her,” he said vaguely, lost in his memories. 

“For being magical?”

“Yes,” he answered stiffly. 

“How did she fare afterwards?”

“She didn’t,” he answered bluntly. 

“You mean she died?”  A look of astonishment came across James’s face. 

“No,” he replied a bit sharply.  “But it would have been better for all involved if she had,” he added softly a few minutes later.

They were walking along the outskirts of the town; working their way slowly back to his childhood home. 

“For weeks she was catatonic with fear; forcing my mother and father to stand by helplessly and watch in misery.”  He looked up at James, the twinkle absent from his gaze.  “And then one day, she just,” he shrugged, at loss for a better description.  “She just came out of it one day.”

“How long?”

“The attack occurred during the summer when she was six.  She didn’t start speaking again until late October.  All Hallow’s Eve, to be precise,” he glanced at the other man. 

“Halloween,” James’s eyes widened appreciatively.  “What were her first words?” 

Albus grimaced.

“‘I’m sorry,’” he said bitterly, looking away from his companion. 

. . .

“Who’s dat?”  Little Harry asked, pointing at a picture of a lady.  After breakfast, his daddy had arranged them on the couch and pulled out a photo album that they were now going through. 

“That would be your grandmother,” his Tall Man answered patiently; easily holding him, Captain and the book in his lap. 

“What’s a gand-mother?”  He asked, peering up at his daddy. 

“Grandmother,” his Tall Man clarified.  “It is a way of referring to your mother’s mother.” 

He looked up at his daddy with wide eyes. 

“Mummy?”  He whispered, clutching his bear tightly. 

His daddy turned the page to reveal a very familiar looking face.  The woman had red hair and bright green eyes, the same color that his were. 

“Dat’s my angel,” he said, pointing solemnly at the picture. 

“That’s your mum, Harry,” his daddy said quietly. 

Harry turned around in surprise.  

“That’s my mummy?”  He looked up at his Tall Man for confirmation, and his daddy answered with a nod.  “My angel is my mummy?”  He added seconds later as the pieces fell into place. 

“Yes,” was his daddy’s answer. 

He could feel long fingers stroking his head and he allowed himself to lean into them; relaxing from the comfort he felt from them. 

His daddy turned the page and a grin came over the small boy’s face at the image he saw looking up at him. 

“I know who dat is,” he said, pointing a tiny finger at the picture. 

“And who would that be?”  His daddy asked him with a small teasing smile. 

“Dat’s my Tall Man,” he said proudly.  “That’s my daddy,” he added softly, looking back up at his Tall Man for reassurance.

“It is indeed,” his daddy told him, tightening his longer arms around the small boy’s thin waist as he did.

If Harry had looked up then, he would have seen a slight blush on his Tall Man’s cheeks from that admission.  However, the blush soon faded, and soon both he and his adopted father were fully reinvested in the treasure chest of memories that was held within the old book sitting atop their laps.    

. . .

Later that day, Severus called Minerva via the floo. 

“Might I borrow your old tabby cat for a bit this afternoon, Minerva?”  Was his first question to her. 

“Are you sure that’s a wise idea?” 

“I have a theory about what happened the last time that you visited.  I’m fairly positive that his reaction to you will not be the same this time,” he answered seriously. 

“I didn’t see you at the feast earlier,” she said in a reproving tone; her progression to the next topic telling him that she was at least interested in hearing his reasons behind the need for her to visit. 

“Harry and I were busy looking at pictures of his mother,” he answered with a pointed look. 

The older woman didn’t give him a verbal response, but he did see a brief smile pass across her face at his words. 

“Why the sudden interest in my old cat, Severus?”  She asked again, but this time with a flash of humor in her eyes. 

“I had a rather interesting experience this morning,” he said, ignoring her bait. 

“And?”

So he told her about the black cub and seeing the boy’s transformation with his own eyes.  When he finished talking, the older woman looked at him with a new look in her eyes. 

“Natural animagus talent; not unheard of, but certainly not something very common, particularly in one so young,” she said, her excitement beginning to grow. 

“Does this mean that you’ll come this afternoon?”  He asked.

His colleague nodded, so without further comment, he ended their conversation and pulled himself out of the fireplace to allow her passage through. 

Shortly after that, the floo flared again and a very distinctive tabby cat made its way easily into his quarters.  She looked at him with a haughty look and an upturned tail, and he sighed.  It was no wonder that Minerva McGonagall had become a cat, as both were equally insufferable. 

With a stern look, he told her in no uncertain terms that she should stay there while he retrieved the child from his bedroom.  Content to see that she was not immediately following after him, he went into his bedroom and then onto the bed where the lad had been taking a nap. 

Solemn green eyes peeked back up at him from within a nest of blankets, and judging from the sight of a small pink ear sticking out from under the covers, he could tell that Captain was in the lad’s arms as well.  The boy’s glasses were still in Severus pocket—after having been charmed against breaking and scratching—and he quickly put them back on his son’s face. 

“I have something to show you,” he said quietly, picking the small boy up easily and perching him on a hip as he walked them back into the other room. 

Harry’s thumb was in his mouth, while his other hand was curled tightly around his bear, but his eyes were bright as he took in the cat that was waiting patiently for them on the couch.  Severus sat them down next to the small animal, hoping to encourage the child to reach out and touch the tabby.  Secretly he hoped that Harry would take after like other small boys and try to pull the old cat’s tail, but he had a feeling that it would likely never happen. 

Oh well, he thought to himself with a slight smirk, a man can dream. 

Severus watched as his small boy quietly took in the sight of the cat.  The tabby allowed him to stare for a few minutes unbothered, and then took the lead.  Stretching out one paw and then two, she made herself comfortable in their space. 

The small boy looked up at him with a question in his eyes and Severus nodded, and then with a firm hand, he reached out and rubbed the cat’s head between her ears.  Following suit, his tiny imp of a lad reached out with a more hesitant and much smaller hand and did likewise. 

 Soon the old tabby was purring in their laps, and Severus had to fight back a grin at the quiet delight that his child was exhibiting at the sight. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting to happen, but when it did, he was glad of it. 

The form of his small son suddenly morphed quite clearly before his eyes, leaving in his place a small black furry bear cub.  It seemed that the boy was at ease in his environment now, and Severus watched on in amusement as the two quite different animals sought to evaluate one another. 

It was exquisitely sweet to watch the small cub gently raise a paw to the cat’s head and then rub it through her fur.  They took turns sniffing one another, his cub lifting and showing the tabby his small pink stuffed toy, and watching as the cat batted playfully at it.  The two played together for nearly half an hour before his child abruptly reappeared in his lap, small thumb already back in his mouth, as the boy leaned tiredly back into his chest. 

Severus smirked and then picked up his boy (and his son’s bear), and moved them over to the fireplace.  He opened the floo and called out Minerva’s destination quite clearly into the green flames.  Shortly after receiving yet another haughty look from his still furry colleague, Minerva took her leave of them. 

The two Snape boys were left alone with only a small pink teddy bear for company, but it was enough for them. 

All in all, Severus felt that it was one of his best Christmas’s ever.   And looking at the boy still cradled protectively in his arms, he felt almost certain that it his son’s best ever as well. 

“My Tall Man is my Daddy now,” little Harry quietly told Captain early the next morning.  Severus was still asleep, but the small boy didn’t mind waiting for him to wake up. 

“Always and forever?”  His small pink friend asked.

“Yeah,” he whispered, holding the bear to his chest tightly as he tried to deal with the warm feelings shooting through his body. 

. . .

Although some things were going well with his small charge, the same could not be said for all facets of the tiny boy’s life. 

In order to get the child up to a more normal weight, Severus had been forced to supplement his meals with a nutrient potion that helped the lad’s body better process the food he was eating.  Unfortunately, Severus was having trouble finding the right dosage, given the age and extreme malnourishment of the boy in question. 

At first, the amount he was giving Harry resulted in constipation bad enough that the child nearly couldn’t walk the next day.  It was apparent to Severus that there was far too much—ahem—bulk within that concoction, so after getting the child’s immediate problem cleared up, he had taken them back to his private lab to experiment a bit more. 

Within his lab, he had cleared a small spot off of one of the counters and then transfigured the top into something more similar to a cushion.  After adding a few charms to keep the boy in place and out of danger, he put the boy there with Captain and the beginning Potions book while he worked. 

“Daddy,” the child said one day not too long after the disastrous constipation incident. 

“Harry?”  He turned from chopping ingredients to look at the boy not more than an arm’s length away. 

“Is dat, dis?”  The lad asked, pointing a tiny finger at the book in his arms.  The textbook had been a bit too large for the boy to maneuver, so Severus had simply shrunk its dimensions a bit.  Besides, the pictures were the important bits, given that the boy couldn’t read yet.

Or so he thought.

He moved to where Harry was sitting and looked at the book in question. 

“Is that dis?”  The child repeated; pointing again once he was in viewable range. 

It was a picture of ginger roots being cut into smaller pieces; which also happened to be the exact ingredient that he was currently slicing. 

“I ‘member dat smell,” the child told him solemnly, green eyes turned trustingly up towards Severus’s own dark amber ones. 

Surprised at the lad’s accuracy, Severus only could nod dumbly.  Many of his third years had still not yet managed to identify between the smells of daisy roots with ginger roots, but as his son had correctly pointed out, ginger was a very distinctive odor. 

“Is dat for my tummy?”  The boy asked perceptively, green eyes staring up intelligently at him. 

“And why do you think that, young man?”  Severus asked with a smirk, picking the child up and carrying him on a hip to look at his potion. 

“’Cause ginger helps tummy aches?” 

“Indeed,” Severus said, a small proud smile working its way over his face.  “But how did you know that?”  He asked, somewhat perplexed. 

“Oh!”  His son chirped excitedly.  “’Cause my book told me so!” He explained, with a soft clap of his hands. 

“Your book?”  Severus raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah daddy, dat potions book you gave me,” his child said with a happy look up at him. 

“Did I read that part to you already?”

“Nuh uh,” the boy shook his head in the negative.  “It tolds me itself.”

“You mean it spoke to you?”  Severus was now officially confused. 

His son giggled and Severus couldn’t help but smile back at the innocently happy expression.  The boy hadn’t giggled but once or twice since living with him, but each and every time had been something related to the two of them. 

“No.  I looked at it and saw what it said!”  The child looked expectantly back up at him, and understanding suddenly filled his brain.

“You mean you read it?”  He asked, trying to keep the amazement from showing in his voice. 

“Yeah,” his boy nodded, resting his head back down against Severus’s chest. 

“You can read?”  Severus asked, carrying the lad back to his cushioned spot. 

“Some,” the child admitted softly, before peering back up at him hopefully.  “But some words don’t make no sense and I never had no one to help me,” he said sadly. 

“What words?”  Severus asked, rising quickly to the challenge his son had just thrust at him.

After that, they read together a little each day, and every night Severus would make sure to ask his son if there were any words he wanted to ask about before going to sleep.  As he told Harry with an almost serious look on his face, it was important to get all of one’s vocabulary straight in one’s mind before falling asleep. 

“What happens if you don’t first?” His son asked with a bit of trepidation. 

“Muddled words and bad spelling,” he answered solemnly, before breaking up the moment by tickling the child into a bout of runaway giggles. 

. . .

Albus and James sat in his old childhood home and watched in silence as his mother argued wildly with his father.  The man had witnessed his youngest going from bad to worse over the past months and had finally reached the end of his tether.  He was going to go and confront those boys and their parents and make them understand the hideousness of what they had done to his family. 

Albus looked at his father—his papa—with no small amount of bitterness.  What the man was saying was all fine and good, but his father hadn’t bothered to stop and think about the potential consequences of his actions; like being put in Azkaban for attacking three muggle families for seemingly no reason. 

“Oh Percival,” he muttered under his breath to his father, “You stupid fool.”

It was safe to say that he was surprised at the amount of anger still present in his heart from his father’s actions and resulting abandonment of their family. 

“Kendra, as your husband it is my right—nay, my duty to uphold the honor of this family by any means that I see fit!”  His father had and was arguing to his wife.

“And how will Ariana do without her father in her life?  What about Al and Ab?  How can you just leave them behind for your ridiculous sense of justice—your so-called honor!?”  His mother had and was shouting back.  Then and now he could tell just how close she was to tears. 

Albus walked around to the other room where he and his brother had listened to that ghastly fight on that day so very many years ago.  As he had remembered, there they were, up against the cracks of the door, listening in horrified attention. 

He crouched down beside his own younger self and observed the boy that he had once been.  The younger Albus’s nose had not yet been broken by an angry younger brother.  It was still thin, but it was straight.  His younger self was crouched down with his hands on the floor and his ear just beside the vertical crack that ran between the door and the doorway.  His eyes were slightly unfocused as he listened intently, and his mouth was slightly open from a combination of shock and horror.

Below him, his brother Aberforth—or Ab, as they often had called him in those days—was laid out on the ground, listening at the horizontal crack between the door and the floor.  He was three years younger than Albus, but at this age, three years was very noticeable. 

Albus took one more look at the two eavesdropping brothers and then turned on his heel and walked out the room, only to find the ghostly form of James waiting for him on the other side of the door. 

“How old were you two?”  James asked him with a nod of his head towards the now closed door. 

“Ten and seven,” he answered quickly, not really in the mood for discussing such painful memories with a dead man. 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a redhead,” James said with a chilly grin.  “Nor your brother for a blond,” the other man added when he failed to respond. 

Albus shrugged.  There wasn’t much he could say about that.  His hair, like his brothers, had started turning silver in his eighties, and then finally had gone completely white in his nineties. 

“Where was your sister during all of this?”

That was actually a good question.  Where would his sister have been during a monumentally upsetting experience such as this? 

He didn’t verbally answer James’s question, but instead turned quickly to the left and headed off down the hallway to where his youngest sibling’s room had been.  Finding the door quickly, he opened it and stepped through to find Ariana in the floor playing with some paper dolls.  He remembered that his mother had enchanted those same paper dolls to get up and interact with Ariana, but not to respond to any other members of the family.  They had been just for their sister, and no one else. 

Of course, as he and Ab had both argued, why would they have wanted to play with their sister’s stupid ol’ dolls anyway? 

He looked down at the bent head of his sister and was hard pressed not to try and speak to her.  Even if he could, what would he say?  It was not as though he could offer apologies for something he hadn’t even done yet, and to a girl who was mentally disturbed too.

Ariana looked up then, staring directly at the spot in which he was standing, and he quite nearly jumped.  He remembered that Ariana had started talking to herself or her imaginary friends—or what have you—sometime after the incident with the muggle boys, but he hadn’t remembered it starting so soon. 

“Who are you?”  The look in the little girl’s eyes was very sharp, and forced himself to let out a breath that he hadn’t been aware of holding. 

“You can see me?”  He whispered shakily. 

“Of course I can see you,” the very young Ariana answered easily.  “Can’t you see me?” 

“I—I can see you,” he said very softly, his eyes wide with surprise. 

“Well, then what’s your name?” 

“Brian,” he whispered, mentioning one of his many middle names in the place of his real.  He was no longer sure if this really was just shadows of the past, like in Dickens’s “A Christmas Carol,” or actually the past itself. 

And of course, James was nowhere to be found.  

. . .

Little Harry was caught in a dream that he couldn’t escape from.  His auntie stood over him, screeching about how worthless and disgusting he was, while he begged and cringed at her feet, pleading for forgiveness for whatever unforgiveable thing that he had done this time. 

“Nasty boy, nasty freak!  How many times have I told you that freaks aren’t allowed to sit on the furniture!?  Freaks aren’t allowed to sit at the table!!!  Freaks aren’t allowed to be part of the family!   Nobody wants a dirty horrible freak like you!”

He cried out aloud, and then suddenly the dark had broken around him and warm arms were holding him close, stroking his back soothingly.  He gasped out a sob and turned his face into his Tall Man’s chest, trying to hide from the very real image of his auntie’s angry face. 

“Hush, little one.  You’re safe now.  I won’t let her get you, I promise.  Would you like your bear?”  He felt his small fuzzy friend being pressed into his arms and he grabbed onto it too. 

“You keep me safe?”  He begged through his tears, needing very much to hear his Tall Man’s reassurance. 

“Always,” his daddy promised, pulling him up to rest his head on his Tall Man’s shoulder. 

“Always and forever?” He sniffled, calming down some now.  He could feel his daddy’s heartbeat next to his own and it just felt right. 

“Until the end of time,” his daddy whispered in his ear and he nodded his relief back against the man’s shoulder. 

An interesting phenomenon was occurring all through Hogwarts. 

The magic involved was very old and very powerful.  It had to be, considering what it was managing to make happen. 

At first, the changes wrought within the castle were very simple, rather unnoticeable in their own right. 

For one, the gargoyle in front of the stairs to Dumbledore’s office abruptly stopped accepting the headmaster’s password.  The only ones allowed in or out then were house elves and portraits.  When asked, they reported that there was nothing out of the ordinary to be found in his office, save the absence of the man himself. 

Within forty-eight hours, the magic had changed again, and people were no longer trying to access his office.  Rather, if someone had been able to check the wards within that vicinity, they would have discovered that some very interesting changes had been made to the old protections in place there. 

In particular, the most noticeable change would have likely been the repelling charm that surrounded the entire area.  It was a very complex piece of magic, because it only applied to those people who were actively thinking about finding Dumbledore.  Much like the muggle repelling charm used on large wizarding events like the Quidditch World Cup, this one had the effect of causing said affected person or persons to suddenly remember one or more pressing engagements that they simply had to get off to deal with at that particular minute. 

However, the extent of this magic didn’t cease there, but continued creeping out into every corner and crack of the entire castle itself, until the only way one could think of the headmaster was purely accidental. 

Everyone in Hogwarts knew that the headmaster was there—somewhere—but if asked to think about it, no one would have been able to say exactly where he was just then.

. . .

Little Harry trotted diligently beside his Tall Man as they moved through the corridors of Hogwarts.  One small hand was wrapped securely around two of his Daddy’s much larger fingers as they went, while Captain was tucked carefully against his other side. 

They were going up to the Great Hall to have dinner with the other teachers and students that evening.  His Daddy had explained to him that there would be far fewer students there tonight as compared with later in the week, which was the end of the winter holidays. 

His Daddy wanted him to have a chance to inter—inter—interact with some of the other students while the numbers were still so low.  This he explained to Captain on their way, in hopes that his bear would better understand the opposition that they were now facing. 

Just before entering the Great Hall from what his Tall Man explained was a secret entrance that the teacher’s sometimes used, his Daddy leant over and picked him (and Captain) up.  Then, with Harry securely propped on his hip—and Captain held in the space between them—they went in. 

Unconsciously, the small boy held his breath, unsure of what he feared; only knowing that the unknown had never been good to him. 

“Breathe, little one,” his Tall man said quietly in his ear, causing him to let out a breath in surprise.

“Daddy,” he whispered with a wide eyed look as they went to take their seats.  “Why are dey all staring at me?” 

“Are they staring?”  Was his daddy’s casual response. 

Little Harry chanced a look back out at the tables where the students were sitting and confirmed his daddy’s question with a shaky nod. 

“How do you know that they are staring at you?”  His daddy asked him calmly, putting food onto a plate as he did so. 

“’Cause I can feel their eyes,” the small boy whispered urgently as he began to shake in his Tall Man’s normally comforting embrace. 

His reaction caused his daddy to turn his complete attention onto him, and for a moment, he was distracted from his fear by the sight of his Tall Man’s calm dark eyes. 

“Perhaps they are only staring at Captain,” was his daddy’s mildly spoken suggestion after the severity of his shakes had lessened. 

“Why would they stare at him?”  Harry asked him, forgetting about the frightening students for a moment as he tried to reason out what Severus had said. 

“Perhaps they have never seen a bear as well dressed as he,” his Tall Man answered demurely. 

“He’s only dressed like you and me, daddy,” the little boy said with a questioning look on his face. 

“And we are quite well dressed,” was his father’s smooth answer. 

“We are?” 

“Yes,” his daddy said, turning him around to look at the bountiful selection of food that he had placed on their plate.  It was tantalizingly close and the small boy suddenly realized that he was rather hungry. 

It was little wonder that the presence of the students soon slid from his mind as they began the very important process of feeding themselves. 

. . .

After eating enough to meet their stomachs’ needs, Severus looked down to find his son once again conversing with Captain.   Stifling the urge to grin broadly at the boy’s antics—considering their current location—Severus instead reached for a cup of tea. 

“He is quite adorable,” Minerva interjected from her position to his left. 

“What’s dat?”  His small boy chirped, looking up at him with a confused look. 

“It is another way of saying that she thinks you are sickeningly cute,” he said with a smirk. 

“Ew,” the black haired child atop his lap said, scrunching up his tiny face as the perceived slight. 

“Severus,” Minerva hissed in annoyance, slapping his arm lightly to further demonstrate her displeasure. 

“Hey!”  Harry said in an affronted voice.  He reached over with his small hands and pulled Severus’s arm away from Minerva’s reach.  “You no hurt my daddy, my Tall Man,” the child said adamantly. 

Severus opened his mouth to protest, but seeing the mystified look on his colleague’s face made him change his mind. 

“Are you okay daddy?”  Small hands were patting his shoulder and arm gently, while the lad glared up at Minerva with a very Snape-like scowl. 

“I suppose I am,” he said with a dramatic sigh. 

Concerned green eyes looked back up at him in response. 

“Severus—,” Minerva began to say from beside him, but Harry cut her off with another glare.  To Severus, the entire situation was quickly becoming entirely too hilarious. 

“We should go home now, daddy,” his son said, pulling insistently at his other arm—the one that had not been cruelly mishandled by Minerva, Severus thought with a resounding mental snort. 

Severus shrugged back at Minerva, who was looking at them with her own scowl, and then leaned over to pick up his son and Captain. 

In order to further the charade, he was careful to pick them up with the “uninjured” arm. 

“Until we meet again, Minerva,” he sighed again, flashing an evil smirk back at her when the boy’s head was turned. 

Hearing the older woman harrumph from behind them further added to the delight of his evening, and there was an addition bounce in his step as they left.

. . .

A small hand gripped his much older one gently and he followed the child without question to edge of the forest.  

“What are we doing here Ariana?”  Albus voiced softly, his eyes barely able to focus on anything save the image of his much younger sister. 

“Papa’s about to leave,” she said simply, as though that were reason enough. 

“Shouldn’t you want to say goodbye?”

She shook her head in the negative. 

“Why?”  He asked, crouched in front of her. 

“I don’t like goodbyes,” she said, her much too old eyes staring solemnly back at him. 

Albus’s throat closed up a bit over that and he could only nod. 

Pulling more insistently on his arm, Ariana slowly began to lead him into the forest. 

As a result, they weren’t there to witness their father’s angry exit from their home, but with the help of James, they did manage to make it back before Ariana was missed. 

. . .

Severus had exited the Great Hall with Harry and Captain clasped tightly against his chest when three older Gryffindor students happened to stroll into their path. It was likely, knowing Gryffindors—as Severus had the misfortune of doing—that their chance involvement in his life was nothing more than pure arrogance on their parts, for believing that they had a right in knowing his personal life. 

“Is that your kid, Professor?”  One of them asked a touch snottily, while the other two continued to stare on disrespectfully. 

Severus could feel his small boy tensing up in his arms, and that, combined with their attitudes resulted in his reaction. 

“You miserable miscreants would do well to leave your suspicions at home and your eyes in your head,” he sneered angrily at them, causing them to back off rather significantly. 

He turned on his heel smartly and started to stalk back down to the safety of their quarters, when suddenly he realized that his small boy was making a sound quite similar to a growling noise from within his arms. 

Turning back to the boys that they had just left, Severus realized that they must have said something behind his back that he had inadvertently ignored, but that his son must have picked up on. 

“Can’t believe he of all people reproduced,” one of the boys said to his laughing cohorts.  “That kid looks more like a drowned rat than anything else.  It figures that any kid of Snape would be a freak too.” 

Severus saw red, but before he could blast them to tiny smithereens, his son had managed to squirm out of his arms and was running full tilt straight back at them.  Severus watched in amazement as the small boy changed forms mid-run, and by the time he had reached the poor excuses for potions slop, his son was fully in the form of a small black—angry—bear cub. 

He followed quickly after his son, not wanting the boy to come to harm at the hands of these future Azkaban detainees, but more than a little aware that no one—except perhaps him—would be happy if these boys found permanent damage at the sharp little paws of a four year old still unregistered animagi. 

By the time that the potions master had gotten the fight broken up, all three boys were suffering deep scratches from his son’s sharp claws, and one was even nursing a broken arm from where his son had bitten him. 

Once the cub was back in his arms with Captain, he calmed and then quickly turned back into Severus’s scruffy haired little boy. 

Minerva and Poppy were on the scene by this point and although Poppy was busy with the boys, Minerva was tightlipped with fury as she stared him down. 

“Severus, what did you do?!?”  Was her scathing response. 

He quickly related the story, but then was interrupted as his son added in his two bits as well. 

“They said I was a freak,” his little boy said tearfully from around the thumb fixed tightly within his mouth. 

“They what?”  Minerva asked, caught off balance.

“They said I was a freak,” the boy answered with more than a little anger.  “But daddy says I’m not, right daddy?” 

Severus nodded swiftly and brought the upset child up higher against his chest. 

“They was being mean to my daddy,” his son said, his breath hitching on a sob.  “They shouldn’t be mean to my daddy, never no!”  The boy managed to get out before bursting into quiet tears. 

“And they shouldn’t be mean to my son,” Severus growled in agreement as began rubbing soothing fingers through his son’s wild mop of hair. 

Minerva looked at them both for a minute more, her face twisted in what seemed to be a cross between anger and sadness.  Finally she spoke, “And you did nothing more than break up the fight, Severus?” 

“They are lucky I didn’t get a chance to react,” he said in a low voice, cradling his son’s exhausted body carefully against his own. 

“I should say so, Severus,” Minerva said with a new look of respect in her eyes.  “Put him to bed and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Then she shooed them off back down to their quarters—to their home. 

Severus had nightmares that night around a sharp clawed little boy and a horde of ministry officials all insistently declaring that he be locked up for the safety of those around him. He awoke with a start, his heart beating quickly under his pajamas as he tried to rid himself of the frightening images.

Lighting a small bedside orb with a wave of his hand, he tried to calm himself by sneaking a glance down at his son, only to be surprised by the sight of the little boy staring back up at him.

"Why are you awake?" He asked in a low voice.

"You had a bad dream daddy," the child told him somberly.

"I did, didn't I," Severus agreed easily enough, bringing up a hand to lightly stroke through his son's unusually wild mane of hair.

He watched Harry lean into his hand and he smiled a bit.

"Did I wake you up?"

His small boy looked down, biting his lip uneasily.

"Did I?" Severus turned his son's head back towards him.

"You were sayin' my name daddy," his child said slowly, looking up at him worriedly.

"I must admit that my dream featured you quite strongly," he said, forgetting that he was talking to a four year old. At his son's blank look, he mentally slapped himself and adjusted his statement. "In other words, you were in my dream quite a lot."

"Was I bad?" The little boy looked imploringly up at him.

"Not really," Severus said, dodging the question for the moment. "But there were others that were trying to take you away from me."

Abruptly, his small child began nodding knowingly at him.

"Have you had that dream too?

"All the time," his son whispered as he snuggled deeper into Severus's embrace.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

His son shook his head in the negative.

"Hm," Severus said thoughtfully, still looking at the boy as he began falling back to sleep. "Should you change your mind, you are still welcome to talk to me about it sometime," he said in a very soft voice.

"Yes Daddy," was his son's sleepy murmur.

Severus turned off the light with another wave and then lay back down. His small messy haired boy was already breathing deeply from where he lay atop his chest. Severus wrapped his arms around the child and then closed his eyes again, hoping against hope that his dreams would be clear this time.

. . .

It was torturous having to watch his sister doubled over in misery from the pain of keeping her magic inside. Ever since the incident with the muggle boys, she had been terrified of letting it out again. His family had tried to make her understand that it wasn't her fault, that her magic wasn't at fault, but she either wouldn't—or couldn't listen to them.

They simply couldn't make her understand.

So his mother had brought in professionals from the outside; all intent on making her use her magic, on making her see that magic wasn't scary or Merlin forbid, wrong.

But her plans had all failed, all backfired one by one, until all that was left was this shell of his sister. She was still Ariana, beautiful little Ariana, but now she possessed a mercurial temper that twisted and broke out of her at random times, regardless of what they tried to do to stop it.

And yes, they had tried to stop it.

They had all tried, and it had all been for naught.

By the time Albus had been about to start his first year at Hogwarts, his mother had finally gotten fed up with the prying eyes and whispers that followed them throughout Mould-on-the-Wold, and relocated them to Godric's Hollow in hopes of starting anew.

And in turn, his sister had turned into the dark closeted secret of his family. She wasn't spoken about outside of their household. If ever they were to go somewhere—a very rare occurrence because of the inherent difficulties that always arose with Ariana—they did not take her with them.

It was almost as though she didn't exist.

When visitors came over—also rare—she would be hidden away in her room and their mother would cast silencing spells over that area of the house.

And yet, they had still loved her, still treated her like a member of the family, at least from inside their house.

"Come on Ari," his younger self cajoled as they watched from the shadows of the room. "I just want you to watch me do this spell. You don't have to do anything else."

Like in his memories—and his nightmares—she refused; her hands over her ears and her eyes closed tightly against the invasive demonstration.

"Just leave her alone, would ya Albus?" Aberforth came up behind the younger Albus with an angry look on his eight year-old face.

Although Albus had not seen it at the time, he certainly did not miss the look of gratitude that came over his sister's face this time.

"Aberforth had always gotten along better with her than I," he admitted to James after they slipped back into the hallway.

"Did that make you angry then?" James asked carefully.

"No."

James looked doubtfully back at him, and he sighed.

"No, my anger didn't appear until later."

. . .

After breakfast the next day, his daddy sat them both down on the couch and proceeded to have a talk with him.

"What happened last night must not happen again," his daddy said softly, looking down at him as he waited patiently for little Harry's response.

"But they was being mean to you!" Was his indignant reply.

"And to you; yes, I was there. But son, you can't just attack other people like that. You must learn to have more self-control than that."

"But they was laughing at you," he tried again, his lower lip quivering slightly without his noticing it.

"It is not your job to protect me. In fact, it is quite the other way around."

"But—," he tried, only to be cut off with a long finger laid across his lips.

"You will listen to me now, understand?" His daddy asked quietly, his eyes gentle.

The small boy nodded.

"I know that your 'Auntie' did not ever show you how a real adult should act around children. And perhaps that's why you feel the need to stand up for me. However, since I am a real adult, you should know that I can take care of myself, and you. Understand?"

Little Harry nodded earnestly.

"Not to mention the fact that since I am the guardian of a not yet legal child," his daddy said with a direct look at him. "Any time that you cause harm to anyone else, I am the one who will get in trouble for it."

He felt his eyes go wide as he stared up at his Tall Man in fearful shock.

"I didn't mean to Daddy! Please, I'm sorry! Please," he begged, frightened that they would be separated because of his stupid self.

"Calm down Harry," his daddy said in a deep voice, pulling him up against his chest.

"Please," he said, shivering with fear.

"I just wanted you to be aware of the consequences. That doesn't mean that I'm going to leave you or let anyone take you away," his daddy rumbled against him soothingly.

He couldn't help but burst out into relieved tears as he wrapped himself tighter around his Tall Man. His daddy let him cry for a few minutes, and then as his tears were drying up, his Tall Man gave him something else to think about.

"Besides, I have such wonderful punishments that I can dish out to anyone who hurts you. You can only make them miserable for a short time, but I can cause them much more distress over a longer period."

His daddy smiled down at him and he tentatively smiled back.

"Like what, Daddy?" He asked shyly, still clinging tightly to the man's neck.

"Hmm," his daddy looked thoughtful, "I suppose that this warrants a display." His daddy stood them up and walked to the fireplace. He reached for a jar of something and pulled out a handful of something sandy looking.

"Now, this is called traveling by 'Floo.' You must not let go of me, and you'd best close your eyes, got it?"

"Yes daddy," he said, eager to see more magic.

"Right then," his daddy said, tightening his arm around little Harry's back. He threw the handful into the grate and green flames erupted out. "Hogwarts Infirmary!" His Tall Man shouted, before walking forwards into the strange fire.

The shock of the experience caused the tiny boy to inadvertently do everything his daddy had told him to do; clinging to the man's robes as though a drowning victim might do to their rescuer.

Then abruptly, the swirling feeling around them stopped and soon little Harry was blinking into the light of a new room. As his vision cleared, he realized quite suddenly that it was the infirmary, and there was that Poppy lady he had met before, coming straight to them!

"Hi," he waved shyly from his daddy's arms.

The smaller woman's face softened with a smile as she recognized them.

"Well, Mr. Harry! You certainly are a bit chipper than when I last saw you," she exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips and staring bravely up at them both.

"This time we don't have the added joy of just having spent the last hour with the headmaster," his Tall Man added with an annoyed sound to his voice.

"Humph," was the tinier woman's only response.

"If you don't mind, we are here to say our apologies to the reprobates who started the whole mess last night," his daddy continued haughtily.

The tiny boy looked up unhappily at his daddy, but thought it better than to say anything. After all, his daddy had mentioned something about a demonstration.

"That's very polite of you, Severus," the woman said, looking suspiciously up at them.

"No trouble at all," his daddy answered with a toothy grin that made Harry grin too.

"Uh huh," the woman replied with a knowing look. "No permanent damage, young man," she said, wagging a finger at them. "I'll just be in my office if you need me."

She left them alone. Harry looked up at his daddy once more in anticipation of what would happen next.

"Let's go pay the piper, shall we?" His Tall Man answered with a smirk.

. . .

He walked them to the beds where the boys were, stopping at the foot of the closest.

"Mr. Brockley, Mr. Hurst and Mr. Stickley, I don't believe that I ever introduced you to my son," Severus said with a dark look at each of the Gryffindor boys in turn.

"Isn't that right?" He added with a bit of a menacing snarl. He'd teach them to mess with his boy.

"No sir," the boys responded quickly, in unison. Their faces were getting paler by the moment, and Severus was happy for it.

Turning the child in his arms around, he presented his son to them, stating in a clear voice, "This is my son, Harry Potter-Snape." He grinned as their faces paled even more, and the one to his right—Mr. Hurst—began trembling. "You might know him better as the 'Boy-Who-Lived," he added nastily, turning the child around to perch securely on his hip.

"Harry, tell the idiot boys that you're sorry for not letting me do my job as your father," he said, trading a secret grin with his son.

"Am sorry," his child said grudgingly, even with Severus's promise of impending doom.

"Do you accept his apology?" He asked the boys with a dangerous look.

The teenagers only hesitated for a moment before nodding and trying to apologize as well.

"Good," he answered in a low voice. "Now, to make sure that you will not forget about this anytime soon," he pulled out his wand and waved it at each of them. "This will help you to remember," he said with an evil smirk.

He was very proud of his son. The child managed to wait until they were safely back in their quarters before bursting out with delighted laughter.

He had transfigured each of their noses into pig snouts, and then added a charm that would keep them like that for the rest of the week.

"Now," he said, turning to his still giggling boy, "wasn't that much better?"

. . .

A few nights later . . .

"Daddy?" His son asked from where he was nestled up next to Severus in their bed.

"Harry?" Severus responded, pulling the boy up closer and flicking his wand to create a dim light around them.

"Why don't my mummy angel ever visit us no more?" Wide green eyes peered up at him, patiently waiting for an answer that he didn't have.

"I don't know," he said honestly.

"D'you think she don't like me no more?"

"Oh Harry, she loved you more than anything in the world. You were—and are—her most precious thing." It wasn't hard to talk about the love that Lily had had for her son. Lily had loved being pregnant and had loved being a mother.

"I was?" His tiny boy sounded amazed that such a thing could be possible.

"Yes," he answered emphatically, gently running his fingers through the lad's soft hair.

"Oh."

"Oh what?" Severus asked, quickly responding to the forlorn sound in his son's voice.

"Auntie said that no one could ever love me. And dat's why she and Uncle got stuck wit' me."

"Well, she lied," he answered vehemently, raging internally against the vile creatures that were the child's relatives. "I know for a fact that she loved you very much. Both your mummy and your daddy did," Severus added.

"My other daddy," his son corrected him with a pointed look.

"And this daddy does too," he felt obligated to clarify, lest the boy question that as well.

"This one?" His son poked him lightly in the side with a tiny finger.

"This one," he agreed, pulling his son up on his stomach to look at him closer.

"This one, daddy?" His son asked with a giggle, just before he attacked his ribs with his little fingers.

"No, this one!" Severus shouted, tickling the boy back, causing him to shriek with laughter.

It was only after the impromptu tickling attack had finished and they were laying in the dark once more, that his son added another thought to their conversation.

"I love you too daddy," the child said with a yawn, curling up tighter against him.

Severus felt a grin take over his face at his son's words, and was grateful for the security of the darkness around them.

Ever since treating Severus's small boy, Poppy Pomphrey had been unable to get Harry out of her mind. She had tried to confront Albus directly about her concerns—or rather her implacable fury towards his relatives—but had been quite unable to track down the elusive man's presence.

Thus, it was with a clear conscience that she had decided on a different course of action. As both the school's healer and a previous member of the Order of the Phoenix, it was not a difficult task to determine the location of Harry Potter's relatives.

After wrapping herself up warmly in a heavy cloak, she made her way to edge of the Forbidden Forest and disappeared, only to reappear in a deserted lot nearby the Dursley's residence. It was already dark by the time she arrived, but she made her way quickly enough through the unfamiliar streets; her trek fueled by her determination to see justice done.

A tabby cat with odd markings around its eyes was the first thing she saw when she finally got to the house in question. She was torn between just petrifying the stupid animagi, or just ignoring the other woman while she went on with her business, but her internal dispute quickly became moot when the transfiguration professor opted to take things into her own hands—er paws.

"What are you doing here?" A very human Minerva hissed at her from a dark shadow next to the house.

"Paying my regards to the monsters in question," Poppy answered in a hostile voice.

Merlin help me, if Minerva's here to defend them, I will blast my way through her as well! She raved silently to herself.

"I am the Deputy Headmistress, if you will recall, Poppy. This is my job—not yours!" Minerva said, stepping decisively in front of her.

"Oh do grow up already," Poppy said nastily. "I'm not here to fight with you. So either put up or shut up!" She hissed out in a cold voice, quickly reminding the other woman why it was that the students had nicknamed her the "Dragon Lady."

The woman that met the two witches at the front door was thin and bitter looking. Poppy couldn't help but feel just that much sadder for the pain that the small boy had suffered under her "care."

"What are you doing here?" The woman spat contemptuously towards Minerva.

"We've come to check on your nephew," the woman at Poppy's side said with far more cheer than was warranted.

Petunia's face crinkled in distaste at Minerva's request. Poppy didn't need to be a mind reader to know that the woman loathed the boy.

"I don't know about how things are where you lot are from, but here in the normal world, we do not conduct business after dark!" She made to close the door in their faces, but Poppy stopped the flimsy piece of wood easily with her foot.

"Our worlds may not be the same, but I know good and well that slamming a door in someone's face is considered beyond rude!" Poppy hissed dangerously.

"You're all a bunch of freaks! I don't give a damn what you think is considered normal!" The woman spat back, trying once more to shut the door in their faces.

Poppy fired a single blasting curse and blew the door off of its hinges. Behind Petunia, she could see a large man clambering forth, blustering something about 'payments' and 'charges.' From beside her, she felt more than heard Minerva fire off a stunner to the man, dropping him on the floor like a heavy bag of cement.

The mediwitch saw Petunia's mouth opening to scream and she deftly cast a silencing spell on the horrid woman, and followed it up shortly after with charm that stuck the horse faced twat to the wall.

She flicked her wand towards the door and placed it back in its frame, not caring enough to bother with fixing its hinges.

Poppy turned towards Minerva and gave a smirk worthy of a Slytherin.

"I'd say that some justice needs to be done here," she said, her dark eyes belying the cheer in her voice.

Minerva looked at her critically, her lips pinched tightly together as she contemplated Poppy's suggestion.

"They starved him, Minerva. They beat him and harmed him—Lily's child, Minerva! Lily!"

When the other woman's eyes narrowed in fury, Poppy knew that she had won the argument. Now, the only thing left to do was to make these muggles miserable.

It wasn't very hard, especially for two well practiced adult witches.

Poppy charmed the kitchen floor to always show footprints, regardless of how many times it had been washed.

Minerva then cast a charm that caused the toilets to work in reverse every two or three flushes.

In response, Poppy made the eyes in all of the photographs constantly follow the house's residents around. She specifically made it only work for the inhabitants so that they could never show anyone else.

Minerva, with a grim smile, cast a curse over the refrigerator to make all of the meat taste like dog food. Poppy added onto the curse by adding a charm that made everything else only taste like brussels sprouts.

Minerva cast a charm on all of the chairs to make them randomly bite their occupants.

Poppy made all of the house taps only run blue water. It was perfectly safe, but the Dursleys wouldn't be likely to find that out.

Minerva charmed both Petunia's and Vernon's keys to get up and wander off from wherever their owners had last put them.

Poppy cursed Vernon with impotency and then cursed Petunia with a horrible rash that only appeared in the most embarrassing of places.

Minerva cast a charm on both Vernon and Petunia that caused them to constantly receive uneven haircuts. At the last moment, she felt sorry for the people cutting the hair and modified the spell so that the uneven hair was only visible to the Dursleys themselves.

Poppy cast a moving curse on two of the kitchen chairs that caused them to squeak when moved across the floor. After thirty-six hours, the curse would move onto the other two chairs and then move back again after another day and a half.

Minerva cursed Vernon with indigestion.

Poppy cursed Petunia with constipation.

Minerva cursed their telly to only show infomercials.

Poppy cursed their light bulbs to only work half the time—usually during the day.

Minerva changed the color of the carpet from beige to neon orange. Poppy changed all the walls to bright blue. Minerva cursed the phones only to let out squeaks for the first five minutes of all phone calls. Poppy cursed the front yard with weeds, while Minerva talked the neighborhood cats into constantly bringing "presents" to the front step of the Dursley's home.

From leaky faucets to bathtub rings, Poppy and Minerva attacked the Dursley's home with all of their pent-up fury towards what had happened to Harry while in their house.

Dawn was beginning to pink the sky when they finally deemed the house finished, but before they left, they modified the Dursleys' memories of that evening and then released them to go to bed for a bit. Neither woman felt it necessary to mention the strange wet spot that they would find in the middle of the bed.

Finally, they added one more charm to the wretched home that caused all of the home's problems to follow the Dursleys if they ever decided to move.

With that task done, the women nodded to each other and then apparated back to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

The boy had put on weight; not much, just a little, but the diagnostic spells didn't lie.

Severus was wonderfully grateful for the weight gain, and yet found it odd that he be grateful for something so small—for someone so small, really. It had even been enough to motivate him to speak of James to the boy again the next time that he mentioned his mother.

James—the one that Harry referred to as his 'other daddy;' the one that he didn't know, didn't prefer to be around, regardless of whether he was alive or not. He never asked after his other daddy the way he did about Lily. Of course, she had had far more impact on him that James had; she had rescued the child after all, had even go so far as to visit them.

What had James done, really?

And why should Severus care?

He was the one there with the child every day. He was the one who took care of the boy, answering his questions, soothing his tears—strange as that might be for someone like him. James might have helped to create the lad, but he was the one to sustain him.

Him, Severus bloody Snape, the one known as Harry's daddy.

Secretly, he allowed a small smile to appear on his lips over the thought.

. . .

Severus wasn't sure if allowing Harry to stay with him while he taught was a good idea or not, but given his definite lack of other alternatives, he decided to make the best of it. He set up a spot in the corner of his classroom, hidden by several unused desks, for his son to comfortably spend the class time in. He then transfigured several old and worn out cloaks of his into soft mattresses, and he covered them with warming charms.

He did all of this before his first class of the day—double potions with the 3rd year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Prior to their arrival, he led his son over to the spot he had arranged for the boy and told him in no uncertain terms that he was to stay there for the rest of the class period.

"But what if I have ta pee?" His son looked distressed at the thought.

"Then you will simply go to this door," Severus indicated the door directly beside Harry's hiding place, "and go when you need to." He set his son up with the third year's potion textbook and told him to quietly teach Captain about how to make a potion.

"You are only to interrupt me if there is some kind of emergency," he said finally.

"E-mer-gen-cee?" His son echoed back with a confused look.

"Trouble," Severus corrected himself.

"Oh, okay Daddy," his boy said with a trusting grin.

Class had begun over an hour ago and Severus was beginning to feel himself relax about having his son in the room with them.

"Daddy?" He felt a small hand tug on his sleeve and he knelt down next to his tiny boy.

"Did I not tell you to stay under the table?" He asked softly, striving to keep his voice gentle. His boy hugged Captain closer to his chest and then shuffled closer to him.

"You did Daddy, but I gotta tell you something," little Harry whispered in Severus's ear.

"Can this not wait until after my class is over?"

"Nuh uh, Daddy," Harry shook his head in the negative, and then maneuvered his way farther into Severus's embrace.

"All right brat. What is it?" Severus asked, standing up with Harry (and Captain) in his arms. He scowled menacingly at the students who dared glance up and stare at them. They quickly ducked their heads back down and he felt pleased that small boy or not, he could still strike fear into the hearts of his students.

"Dat boy's potion is wrong," Harry said in a whisper, pointing a small finger in the direction of the Ravenclaw side of the room.

"Which one?" Severus asked curiously.

"Dat boy wit' the brown hair sittin' on the end," his child said seriously, looking up at him with solemn eyes.

Severus looked over to where Harry had indicated and realized that his son was talking about young Mr. Whittleby. The class was working on the Weed Wilting potion, but it was clear that the boy had not studied like he ought to have, given the off yellow shade of his concoction. It was supposed to be brownish red at this stage.

"You are correct. He has most definitely erred somewhere in the process," Severus said in a soft voice to the boy in his arms.

"Can you fix it?" His son looked imploringly up at him.

"It is not my duty to fix. Mr. Whittleby will soon realize his error, if he has not already."

Given his student's wild eyes and sweaty brow, he surmised that the boy was already aware of his mistake.

"But it could 'splode!" Harry insisted anxiously.

"It is unlikely, given the ingredients that are in use."

Severus was curious as to how his son had realized the problem to begin with. His son had been on the floor, away from the rest of the class. His student's wayward attempt at creating a Weed Wilting potion would not have been visible from where Harry had been seated.

Rather than ask the child how it was that he had known about the mistake, Severus decided to try a small experiment.

"I will not help him fix his potion, but you are welcome to try, if you'd like," he said with a small grin to his boy.

Little Harry's face lit up in happy surprise.

"Really? You'd let me Daddy?"

"I would," Severus said with a pleased feeling in his heart. He moved them over to Whittleby's workstation and then set his boy down on his feet.

Before turning towards the desk, Harry turned back and held out his small pink bear towards Severus.

"Can you hold Capt'n please?"

Severus fought against smirking at the gobsmacked faces of his students as he pulled his son's bear up in his arms. Then he moved away ever so slightly, interested in seeing what Harry would do with the mess at hand.

"Professor?" Whittleby sputtered in surprise as his son clambered up on the bench next to him.

"My son has offered to help you with your potion. I suggest that you do not turn down his offer," Severus informed him with a sneer.

. . .

Eric Whittleby had realized he was in trouble before his professor ever noticed. However, as a Ravenclaw, it would have been far too embarrassing to admit to needing help with something as simple as a Weed Wilting potion—especially in front of a class full of Hufflepuffs.

He had shuddered at the thought.

On the other hand, having a little shrimp of a kid try and "help," was in many ways much worse.

"Look kid, I appreciate the offer, but really, I can do this on my own."

"Harry," the tiny boy told him with a pointed stare.

"Pardon me?"

"MY name isn't 'kid.' It's Har—RY," the little kid stated, crossing his arms with a glare.

"Geez, sorry," Eric answered without much remorse.

"You're stupid," the kid had the gall to say to him next.

"And you're a midget," he shot back with a glare of his own. He had a younger brother. He knew how to deal with him, and if necessary, he'd be willing to teach this kid a few lessons too.

"My daddy's bigger'n you, and scarier too," Harry told him with a scowl. The kid looked away from him and back at his workspace.

Pulling his textbook towards them, the kid pointed one tiny finger at the page where the instructions were listed.

"See dis?"

"Yeah?" He shot back sarcastically.

"It says THREE lumpy roots," Harry said, emphasizing his statement by holding out three small fingers.

"So?" He shrugged angrily.

"Then why'd you put in FIVE?" The kid stared at him accusingly.

"I didn't, you little twerp," he growled back.

"Yeah, 'cause da magic faerie did it," Harry answered back with an angry eye roll.

Behind him, Eric heard a snort and realized that his professor was watching their every move.

Well, shit.

"Why do you think I'd do something like that?" He answered in a low voice.

"'Cause you're stupid. I tol' you already."

"Why do you think my potion is wrong?" He asked in a challenging voice.

"'Cause it smells wrong," Harry gave him another eye roll, but he ignored it this time in favor of trying to understand what the little twerp had just said.

"It smells fine. It smells like swamp mud, just like every other potion does, you dork," he hissed back.

The look the kid gave him that time clearly stated that his response was too idiotic to even warrant a verbal answer.

. . .

Harry looked at the mess before him and frowned. He just wanted to make the potion better; he hadn't figured on having to deal with a stupid student.

Turning around on the bench, he suddenly realized just how very high off of the ground he was. Seeing his father standing not four feet from them, he looked at him and waved. His daddy came over with an amused look on his face and he looked imploringly up at his Tall Man.

"Hand, please," he requested.

He grasped the hand that his daddy held out and he jumped from the bench onto the floor easily. Not yet ready to release his Tall Man's hand, he turned around and dragged—er, led him to the supply shelves.

His head only came up to the third of seven shelves, and that was only if he stood up on his tiptoes. However, with his daddy there to lift him up, he was finally able to find the right ingredients that he hoped would help change the stupid boy's potion back to the state it should have already been in.

. . .

"You aren't listening to me!" Aberforth had shouted at him.

"And you aren't listening to me either!" Albus had shouted back angrily.

Albus and James stood by watching as he and his brother fought. Thanks to the years of maturity that he had gained since this time, Albus could see that his brother had been right about him.

"Ariana won't be happy with you! You don't know how to take care of her!" Aberforth continued shouting.

"And you are in no position to take care of her! You're only 15! Can't you see that I'm doing this for you? So you can finish school?" He had said.

Albus scoffed bitterly at himself; such a fool he had been—such an idiot.

"Sod school! You're not Papa! You're not Mum! The only things I'm passing right now are Muggle studies and Divinition!"

How ironic a statement—his brother had just forewarned him of his folly and then further proved his point by appealing to the one thing he ought to have listened to.

But he hadn't listened past "sod school." He hadn't heard past those fateful words.

"I am the elder member of this family," he had stated in a calmer voice. His words had started the flow of magic around them; something that the older Albus could still feel.

Their mother had just died and they had gone home to take care of Ariana. But as the period of grieving had ended, he had decided that he would do the noble thing and take care of their sister, while his brother continued on in school.

It had been the correct thing to do, if not the right thing. Albus had been all set to travel the world, but he had put his plans on hold for the integrity of their family. My, what fine words he had used at the time; what a fine pile of slop it had all been.

"If you truly cared for her, you would let me do this," his brother had tried once more.

"It is because I care for her that I do this."

He had been so self-righteous; so set in the knowledge that he alone knew the best path to proceed forwards on.

It was only as an adult that he had seen the connections between him and his father.

"Like father, like son," he muttered to himself with no small amount of bitterness.

His father had gone after the muggles that had caused his baby sister to be turned into a magic fearing witch. His father had gone after them and his father had gone to Azkaban for his efforts.

And Albus, so determined to be right, had nearly followed the man to the same place.

. . .

Severus watched along with his class of students, as his small boy diced and sliced his way to success. He wasn't exactly certain of how the child was doing it, since none of the ingredients he was adding had anything obvious to do with a Weed Wilting potion.

But when Harry and Mr. Whittleby stepped away from their cauldron, Severus could see that the potion was now at least the right color and consistency.

And when he put a few drops on the small plot of weeds—magical and not—that he had borrowed courtesy of Pomona Sprout, the potion had done exactly as it was intended to, if not better.

"Full marks Mr. Whittleby," he had said with a private look of amusement at his quietly beaming son. "And detention," he added with a snarl, surprising the third year into near apoplexy.

"For what?" The young Ravenclaw had sputtered, talking back to him.

"For speaking unkindly to my son," he said with a frightening grin of displeasure across his face.

"Class dismissed."

And then he had gathered his child back up into his arms, pink bear and all, and taken him home to celebrate with tea and biscuits.

One owl.

That's all the warning that Severus got that Lucius was coming to visit him—them—that evening. At least it was a Friday and that week's classes were completed. Lucius didn't always visit him at his convenience; quite the other way around actually.

Oh to be richer than sin and be able to do anything that one pleased.

Severus had to admit, if only to himself, that he was a touch nervous about his old friend coming to see him. He had been meaning to tell the man about his recent addition to the Snape family, but it wasn't something he wanted to mention in a letter, so he had kept putting it off.

And now he had no choice.

He was proud of his son, but he had more than some concern of how the other man would react once he found out more about little Harry's biological past.

. . .

His daddy had told him that a friend of his was going to visiting that evening. In turn, little Harry had relayed the message to his small pink friend, and they were still discussing it.

"Daddy says that Mr. Malfoy is a very ol' friend of his, and dat I'm ta be on my bestest behavior," he told Captain in a solemn voice.

He was sitting on his daddy's lap on their couch while they waited for Lucius to arrive at their quarters. His Tall Man had told him that the man would likely travel via floo, but that sometimes his friend changed his mind and did something unexpected.

The small boy didn't particularly like trying to plan for the unexpected, and hoped rather fervently that his daddy's friend would stick to the realm of the expected—if only for that evening.

"What if he don't like me?" He said very quietly to his bear.

"Why wouldn't he like you?" Captain answered calmly.

"'Cause I'm stupid? And ugly and smelly and little?" His words rushed out of his mouth and he chanced a look at his Tall Man to see if his daddy had heard.

"He doesn't speak bear, silly!" His bear admonished gently and Harry let out a small breath of relief. "But that doesn't mean that you get to say those mean things either!" Captain answered with a bit of a growl.

"But dey are true!" He answered with a slight blush.

"They aren't! Daddy says they aren't. He thinks you're smart and nice and other stuff like that," Captain countered with a stern look (helped by Harry crossing his arms in front of his soft body).

"Still ugly, smelly and little," little Harry said with a pout.

"Daddy gives you a bath every night! So you're not smelly! Trust me, I'd say something," his bear replied with a smile.

The tiny boy giggled, and his daddy looked down at him with a smile, before going back to reading his potions' journal.

"Ugly and little then," he argued stubbornly.

"Daddy said you're already bigger than you were at first. That's why he bought you those new trousers, remember, silly?"

Harry blushed. He had forgotten already.

He didn't have a chance to ask his small pink friend about his being ugly or not, because suddenly the floo flared and out stepped their visitor.

And little Harry blinked up in surprise as he saw a small boy perched in the tall blond haired man's arms.

. . .

It had started innocently enough. Albus had kept Ariana sequestered in her room, away from the rest of the world while he and Gellert made their plans. He had kept her safe, kept her fed, even entertained to an extent.

And in the summer following their school year, Aberforth had returned from Hogwarts and had taken over her care; in turn, allowing him to forget about her just that much more.

Of course, his relationship with Gellert Grindelwald had helped too.  

Albus stared out at himself and the young blond haired man with more than a little longing evident in his blue eyes.

"That's him, eh?" James prodded quietly from beside him. "Grindelwald?"

"Gellert," Albus corrected in an even softer voice.

"You two were friends?"

Albus winced slightly and then turned to look at James.

"More than friends," he answered honestly.

"You mean, you and him were—?" James raised an appraising eyebrow at him.

"Yes, we were together in the fullest sense of the word," Albus stated with a sigh, before turning back to look on at his long lost love.

. . .

Introductions had been made and now Harry and Draco were on the floor away from the adults, staring at one another in equally critical ways.

"Why're you here?" Draco, the small blond boy, asked him snottily.

"'Cause I live here," Harry answered hotly, crossing his arms over his chest, holding Captain tightly in space between. He had survived his much scarier Auntie; he wasn't about to be frightened of a stuck-up ugly rich boy. "Why are you here?"

"'Cause my da—my father and I are visiting my uncle Sev. He's my godfather," the blond boy told him boldly, stepping directly up to him.

"He's my daddy," Harry answered in a quietly proud voice. He still didn't back away from Draco's attempts at intimidation.

Draco's gray eyes widened and Harry felt his pride blossom even bigger in his chest.

"He is not!" Draco stamped a small expensive booted foot for emphasis.

"Is so," Harry answered calmly.

"Is not."

"Is so," Harry stuck his tongue out to show what he thought of the other boy.

. . .

From the other side of the room, Severus allowed himself to casually watch the interactions between his son and god-son for a few moments before turning his attention back on the man seated in the armchair across from him. The antics of his two favorite boys greatly amused him, but he kept his humor to himself; particularly in light of the scowling visage before him.

"Harry Potter, Severus?" Was his old friend's disdainful inquiry.

"You know who his mother was," was his pointed reply.

"And who his father was as well," was Lucius's own glowering response. "Or have you forgotten who it was that made your school years so very hellish?"

Severus's brow darkened briefly before he regained his control.

"Of course I haven't forgotten," he answered in an affronted voice.

"Then how is it that you have a Potter under your roof, your protection?" Lucius leaned forwards in feral anticipation of his answer.

"Well . . ." he began calmly, explaining the boy's unusual entrance into his life that cold evening those few weeks prior. He didn't tell the man all of it; certainly nothing about Harry's surprising animagi abilities, but he did mention the latest surprise regarding the child's unexpected skill in his potions class.

"And I'm still not entirely positive how it was that he managed to do it," Severus said finally, lapsing into thoughtful silence.

"You're a Potions' master! What do you mean you don't know how he did it?" Was Lucius's indignant response.

Severus glanced up sharply towards his friend and said coldly, "Did you not hear what I just said? I admitted to not knowing how he did it. I said nothing about what he did. He stabilized Whittleby's potion and then combined a number of alternate ingredients together that very closely mimicked the original Weed Wilting potion. If necessary, I myself could have done the same thing, and possibly even during the same time constraints," he paused, his dark eyes searching and distant as he thought over what he had just said.

"What I don't understand is how he figured out what to do in order to create the effect he did."

"Could he not be a prodigy?" Lucius peered at him interestedly, his eyes glinting sharply with the possibilities of such a thing.

"While possible, I don't think that he is, at least not in the strictest sense of the word."

Severus was uncertain as to whether he should share Harry's strange talent for smell; even though it was likely a key factor into the child's success in his potions' class that previous week.

Lucius answered his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by shriek from across the room. Both men stood up and rushed over to their respective sons.

. . .

A few minutes prior had found a slightly peeved Draco and a still unbending Harry staring at one another.

"What're you holding?" Draco had said to finally break the unyielding silence between them.

"Dis is Capt'n," Harry had answered with a small smile.

"He's pink," the other boy had answered critically.

"My daddy made him fo' me," was the narrowed eye response. "He's my friend."

"He's a bear," Draco had scoffed.

"So 'm I," Harry had growled, going on the offensive finally and taking a step closer to the other boy.

It didn't do little Draco any good when he laughed in response to Harry's bold statement. In turn, Harry had growled his displeasure and Draco had merely laughed harder.

"You're such a little'un!" Draco had gasped out between chortles. "You're just a baby."

"You don't know anythin'," was Harry's growled response before shoving the other boy to the ground.

"You can't do that!" Draco had shot back accusingly from below him. "I'm going to tell my daddy, and then you'll see!" He made to get to his feet, but something from beside him shifted, catching his eye. He turned and gaped at the bear now growling beside him, and then let out a shriek of fear. Instantly the bear changed back into the little boy he had been arguing with.

Seconds later found both boys ensconced in their father's arms—Draco crying and Harry silent as he tried to bury himself and Captain farther into Severus's robes.

"Draco, cease this childish behavior at once and tell me what happened!" Little Harry heard Lucius demand from where father and son were huddled together at the other side of the room.

Harry finally stopped his insistent burrowing and peered up at his daddy with sad eyes.

"Why is his daddy bein' mean to him?" He whispered to his Tall Man.

"Lucius has certain ideas of how young gentlemen should act, and Draco is currently not doing his part," his daddy explained slowly.

"But he's crying," little Harry's lower lip began trembling, "and his daddy isn't lovin' on him or nothing!" He looked woefully up at his Tall Man.

His Daddy pulled him up farther on his chest and hugged him tightly.

"Do you know why he became frightened to begin with?" His daddy asked mildly.

"He said, he said I was a baby and dat you weren't my daddy, and—," the little boy paused mid-rant. "I suppose I got mad and did something I wasn't s'posed to do." Harry lowered his head in shame as tears began to prick his eyes.

"He was wrong to say those things, but I believe that I have warned you about this before, yes?" His daddy looked sternly down at him.

"Yeah," Harry sniffled and his daddy wiped his nose with a handkerchief.

"I believe you that you should apologize."

"Do I hafta tell Mr. Ma'foy about the bear part?" Harry asked carefully.

His Tall Man looked thoughtfully down at him and then sighed. "No; just tell him that you're sorry for scaring him and leave it at that."

And so Harry did.

Little Harry was playing in the bathtub when it appeared.

"Blub, blub," he said, providing sounds for his giant squid toy. His "giant squid" was little more than a plastic many-armed object that had been magicked to swim around him as he played. It was smaller than his daddy's hand, but much bigger than his own, and therefore "giant" in his mind. In his left hand he also held a tiny figurine with long shiny robes and a pointed hat.

"Oh no, Mr. Merlin!" He cried out as the giant squid started making its way toward his Merlin toy. "Watch out or da Gi'nt Squid'll get ya!" He said with a look of horror on his face.

Midway through his play, he stopped and turned towards his daddy who was crouched beside the tub, washing his back.

"Daddy, make 'im talk, please?" He begged; green eyes big in his face.

His daddy sighed, rolled his eyes and then said in a rather formal and unusually gruff voice, "You'll never take me alive! Get back you vile creature! Or I shall be forced to smite you!"

Harry dissolved into giggles at his daddy's acting.

"He wouldn't smite 'im daddy!" He gasped out between giggles. "He'd blow 'im outta da water. Right, daddy? He's a wizard, right daddy?"

His Tall Man grinned down at him and rinsed the soap off his back before replying to his fervently spoken request.

"One of the most, if not the most powerful wizards in history, Harry," he said, reverting back to his normal tone of voice.

"Not stronger'n you, Daddy!" Little Harry protested vehemently, twisting his wet head back and forth.

"Quite possibly he was," his daddy said with a modest smile to the wide eyed boy in front of him.

"But you're da bestest, strongest wizard in da whol' wide world!" The small boy proclaimed, standing up in his tub. Severus took advantage of the opportunity and quickly wrapped a warm fluffy towel around his son, before picking him up and carrying him over to the countertop.

"Right, daddy?" Harry asked, peering solemnly out of the towel that almost completely covered him from where he sat atop the countertop.

"Perhaps, Harry. Perhaps," his daddy said with a smile as he further dried him off.

It was only after his Tall Man had combed his hair and helped him into his pajamas that he remembered to ask his question.

"Daddy?" The green footed pajama wearing boy asked his Tall Man.

"Son?" The man asked, carefully putting Harry's glasses back on his face.

"What's dat?" The small bespectacled boy asked, looking behind Severus.

"What's what?" Severus asked, not bothering to turn yet.

"Dat door?" Harry asked, pointing to the door that had appeared at the end of the bathroom during his bath.

Severus narrowed his eyes in questioning, but obediently turned and looked behind him.

There was a door there. And Harry was right; it hadn't ever existed there before.

"I don't know, Harry," he answered honestly, a touch of uncertainty evident in his voice.

"Id it safe?" Harry looked trustingly up at his Tall Man and the man frowned in reply.

"Historically, the castle has on occasion, chosen to provide more rooms or make adjustm-," he looked down and remembered his audience, "—changes," he corrected himself, "to the rooms already existing for its inhabitants. That is, for the people living within its walls, Harry. I personally have never seen it done before, but I have heard stories throughout the years of random rooms appearing for those who have needed them." His face was thoughtful as he looked at the door in question.

"Can we go and look?" His son was holding out his arms in a silent plea to be picked up from the countertop he was still sitting on.

"You mustn't touch anything unless I give you permission," his dad said carefully, clearly having made his decision as he hoisted the small boy up to rest on his hip.

"Yay! An inventor with my daddy!" Harry clapped his small hands together and his daddy smiled at him.

"I think you mean 'adventure,' Harry," the man corrected him gently.

"Yeah, dat!" The small child said excitedly, latching his arms around his Tall Man's neck and leaning against his chest comfortably.

. . .

Gellert's words had filled him with such motivation towards helping create a better tomorrow for their sorry little world, Albus remembered.

"Men and wizards aren't so very different, you know," had been Albus's hook into Gellert's world. It had gone against everything that he had known—everything that the purebloods preached.

"What separates them, then?" His younger self asked, obviously intrigued.

"Wizards are the world's perfect species. We speak, we invent, and best of all, we create. At a glance, men do all these things too, but without magic. For whatever reason, men are broken—incomplete creatures."

"What of muggleborns then?" He had asked.

"Merely proof that something is wrong with Muggles as a whole. If Muggles can create Wizards, and Wizards can create Squibs, then obviously the two have interbred in the past. And this is the result—strife amongst families that is caused by the black sheep that wander amongst them."

Gellert had bought his interest with radical suppositions, bending his brain (and eventually his heart) into completely new shapes that had helped to open his mind to possibilities and dreams of a different kind of world.

If they could separate out the two lines of Muggles and Wizards down to its most perfect, purest form, then they could end the war between the two sides and further unite the magical realm.

At least, that had been the idea at first. Over time, those dreams and ideologies had . . . shifted, until all that was left of those marvelous concepts had been bare skeletons held together with little more than a forgotten hope for a better tomorrow.

. . .

Severus was still appreciative of the vast changes evident between this bathtub experience and their first one. He remembered how tiny, how fragile the child under his hands had been in the beginning of their relationship, and although he wouldn't admit it aloud, it warmed his heart to see the progress his small boy was continuing to make towards becoming healthy—physically and mentally.

"Daddy?" Said boy's voice broke through his thoughts, bringing him quickly back to the present.

"Right," he said, nodding more to himself as he pushed open the new door and walked them into the unknown. His wand was in the hand not holding onto his son, and he held it out defensively as he carefully moved forwards into the surprising new room.

As it turned out, "surprising" was a very apt descriptor for the space they now found themselves in. Although no lights came on as they moved forwards, the room was still fairly well lit, and when Severus looked upwards, he realized why.

Suspended above them was a miniaturized model of the universe, complete with small tiny pricks of light for the stars, and different coloured glowing spheres that were moving in various orbits around the sun (which was currently dark).

"Wow," both man and boy breathed out in unison together as they stared up into the unusually high rafters of the room.

Of all of the planets above them, the small green and blue Earth was currently the brightest lit, aside from its moon. Although, Severus had an idea about what might change that.

"Lumos," he whispered above the still damp hair of his son, and abruptly the sun came on, lighting the world around them with a soft comfortable glow.

Ducking their heads at the sudden light, Severus had to blink several times before being able to see his surroundings. He quickly realized that what they were standing in was no ordinary room, but a bedroom. Furthermore, it wasn't anything like any of the other dungeon bedrooms he had seen in all of his years at Hogwarts, but rather something completely unique and special.

To their left was a small green canopied bed. Although it was lower to the ground than Severus's own was, there was still a small stepstool that sat beside it, just in case.

The floor was covered in a very soft and plush light green carpet, inlaid with trails of silver that sparkled the longer one stared at it.

The walls were not the typical cold stone that all dungeon rooms featured, but were smooth and painted a soft blue. Across from where they stood, Severus saw a small boy sized desk and chair, and upon further investigation, found a variety of paper and coloring materials atop it, as well as inside its many drawers.

There were also several bookcases that practically begged to be filled with interesting books, as well as a brightly painted wooden toy chest that they found sitting at the foot of the bed. Severus found a plain mahogany dresser, and discovered that it was already filled with all of Harry's small clothes.

As they rounded back towards the bed again, something caught Severus's eye. Laid out atop the pillow was their friend Captain, and Severus imagined that the bear had been waiting for them since before they started Harry's bath.

"Capt'n!" His son proclaimed as they came within arm's reach of the small fuzzy pink toy.

Severus picked up his son's friend and handed it to the boy with a small smile. Immediately, Harry grabbed it up and squeezed his bear tightly, his eyes still large in his head from the wonder of the room around them.

"Daddy? Whose room is dis?" His small boy asked in awe.

Severus fought from smiling as he looked down at his son.

"Why, don't you recognize it?" He asked with a straight face as Harry looked around them once more.

"Nuh uh, Daddy," Harry answered with a confused look.

"Well, silly boy. Don't you know your own room?" He asked, finally giving his child a small grin.

If his son had looked awestruck before, it was nothing to how he looked after hearing Severus's unexpected question.

"M-Mine?" His son asked quietly as he held on to both Severus and Captain tightly.

"Apparently the castle decided that you needed a room, so it created one for you," he said lightly, moving them over to the bed.

"Should," his son swallowed and huddled up against him nervously. "Should I say 'thank you?'" Harry whispered, his eyes large behind his tiny glasses.

The idea hadn't actually occurred to Severus, but as he thought about it, it seemed a perfectly reasonable question.

"I think you should. It seems that the castle has gone to quite a lot of trouble for you. It must like you a great deal to make you such a nice room," Severus whispered conspiratorially. He had sat them down on the bed and was now leaning against the wall with his son in his lap.

"Thank you Castle!" His son abruptly shouted out in the stillness of the room around them.

Severus couldn't help himself as the absurdity of the situation sunk in. He began laughing, and before long, his small boy had joined in.

Somewhere close by, perhaps around them and under them, or even far above them, the castle shifted a bit on its foundations as it merrily began laughing too.

"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.

Some things cannot be forgotten, was Albus's thought when he realized when they were. And seeing your best friend kill your baby sister because of a freak case of accidental magic was definitely one of those things.

There were many things throughout his lifetime that he had regretted, but that was by far the worst.

He remembered it being a whirl of color all centered around his sweet Ariana. He remembered how things had broken around them while his sister had screamed her fury at them. He remembered his surprise at her anger, and he remembered his shock at her actions, but what he had not remembered was why it had all started.

And now he knew.

His sister, his wonderful forgiving, loving, permanently haunted little sister had withstood his less than stellar treatment of her person for far longer than he would have in her place. For weeks, he had ignored her in favor of his projects—his and Gellert's machinations. For weeks, they had ignored her problems, her existence, her fear of all things magical. For weeks, for months, she had only been that girl that lived in his home; not the sister that he made his home with. For months, Merlin had it been years, really? For many months on end, he had made his home with his lover, and she had been forgotten about in the back corner of his house, in the far reaches of his distant awareness.

When the elder Albus looked out onto what he had let his sister become—a recluse, a closeted being, a mere shell of her former beautiful self—he had shaken in anger at his foolish younger counterpart.

"James, some things should never occur," he stated in a barely controlled voice as they watched the scene unfold before them—all over again, at least for him.

"Like?" The ghostly figure seemed strangely calm.

"Like living one's life at the expense of another's," the older Albus whispered, still struggling to keep his emotions from dripping down his face.

"Like the Dursley's did with my son?" The strangely calm James asked, looking him straight in the eye for the first time in many days.

Albus's eyes widened at the comparison.

"Surely it wasn't that bad—," he tried, only to be cut off by a stern look from his companion.

"You saw him as a baby. You saw him as a toddler," James pointed out between gritted teeth. "Tell me that you don't see the similarities between him and Ariana!" The ghost shouted at him, pointing a deathly white finger towards the mess that had continued to explode before them.

Albus fell silent. Before them, Ariana had continued to scream out obscenities that he had never thought he'd hear come from her mouth.

"You can't make me stay here like this anymore!"

Ah, the true crux of the issue.

"And what would you do—go and live like a common filthy muggle?" His younger self had screamed back.

"That's exactly what I'd do," had been her response. "Oh how it would kill you to see me live out my days as such!"

Albus watched as the room began literally tearing itself apart around them. His sister had been so adamant about removing herself from the situation, and in contrast, he had only been a pigheaded bigoted fool.

"Ariana," he whispered during the pandemonium still raining down around them. "My sweet, precious Ariana," he said woefully, tear tracks becoming evident on his face the longer they watched.

Not aware of doing so, the older Albus began walking forwards, straight into the heart of the destructive mess. Around them, a vortex of splinters, glass and metal shards blew angrily; only getting bigger and more violent with each cruel verbal exchange.

The younger Albus only had eyes for his sister, but the older Albus knew better than to watch only her. He felt himself being drawn into the drama, his non-existence be damned all to hell.

"Stop, please," he pleaded, his words easily drowned out by the maelstrom swirling at the edges of their vision.

"Please don't hurt her," he begged of Gellert, knowing his pleas would go unanswered. After all, they had been ignored then; why should he expect his lover's actions to change the second time around?

"Don't do this!" He screamed in horror as he saw the only man whom he had ever loved begin raising his wand again. Hadn't watching his sister die once been enough already?

He wasn't sure why he did what he did next. It wasn't as though he could do anything to change the past, right?

"Avada—," Gellert had began, his wand pointed at Albus's still shrieking sister.

"No!" He screamed.

"No!" His younger self had screamed, only to be left watching in silent horror as his sister was struck down by his lover.

But this time, this time he didn't just watch her die. No, this time things were different.

"Protego!" The older, somewhat wiser Albus shouted; raising his wand only a moment before Gellert finished his casting of the unforgiveable.

Be it luck or be it fate, whatever the cause or reason behind it, this time—this time—when Albus fought to protect his sister, he somehow managed to do exactly that.

Unfortunately for Albus, it would be sometime before he realized exactly what he had done. When his spell met Gellert's curse, the air between them crackled with a force and will of its own previously unknown to either wizard.

And in that brief time between spells and eternity, two people disappeared from that when.

. . .

"Daddy!" Little Harry woke up screaming from his nightmare.

Seconds later, he found his Tall Man's warm arms around his body and he sobbed his relief out on the man's shoulder.

"Child, talk to me," his daddy asked imploringly to him.

"He's back!" Harry wailed, not even noticing how still his father's body had gone underneath his own.

"Who?" His daddy asked a few frightening heartbeats later.

"Da old man, the scary one dat said mean things about you!" He hiccupped tearfully.

"Dumbledore? The headmaster?"

"Uh huh," the small boy said, his thumb going into his mouth automatically as he curled against his daddy's warm chest. He felt, more than heard, his daddy sigh, and unconsciously he tightened his hold on the man.

"Peace, little one," his Tall Man rumbled in his ear soothingly. "He shall not hurt you. I won't let him."

. . .

Albus opened his eyes slowly, only to discover that he was back in his office. Everything looked the same as it had before; minus a few extra piles of work that he was certain hadn't been there previously. He stood up from his desk slowly, his muscles groaning at the effort. He had to face it. He was old. He was old and the past was once more the past. His mistakes were on his shoulders, and he accepted it.

Bowing his head, he closed his eyes and put his hands on his desk. Aberforth was right to be angry with him; right to break his nose at the funeral. All of these years had passed, and he finally could see that he had been wrong about all of it. He knew that Aberforth had not been meant for an academic career. He should have let Aberforth take their sister and take care of her like he had wanted.

He had been a fool.

Was he still a fool? Wearily he ran a hand over his face, ignoring any moisture that his fingers encountered.

And his sister? He hadn't seen what had happened after he had inserted himself into the violence of his past. The world had exploded around him; he knew that much, but nothing else was clear.

His sight blurred as his blue eyes filled with tears. And he purposely ignored himself as he sunk to the floor, weeping his woes out to his empty office.

. . .

In the highest tower of Hogwarts, the old Astronomy tower where young couples often frequented, a very odd looking woman sat on the floor, a dazed expression still present on her face. All was quiet around her until something in her mind clicked and she called out one solitary name.

"James?" She asked of the empty space surrounding her.

A flicker and then a ghostly smiling figure stepped forwards out of nothingness.

"Child?" The ghost of James Potter asked of the woman; a slight grin lighting his lips as he looked out onto her still confused face.

"What happened?" She whispered.

His face was a familiar one to her. He had visited her as a child, and then later as a teen and now finally as an adult. At times, the old man (Brian, her mind supplied) had been with him, but more often than not, it had been only James himself.

"The fates have had a change of heart, my dear," he said slowly.

"Where am I?"

"Hogwarts," he answered easily enough. That was the easy part.

"The school that Aberforth and Albus attended?" She asked in surprise; her blue eyes wide.

"Yes," he answered with a playful grin.

"How did I get here? Why am I here?" She wrapped her arms around her midriff, the chill of the evening air beginning to get to her.

"You are here to start over," James answered with a gentle smile. She watched as he closed his eyes and concentrated. A moment later, another silvery white ghost stepped out of the nothingness and joined him at his side.

"Ariana, I want you to meet my wife, Lily."

The woman, Ariana, scrambled to her feet and managed a curtsy for this new and strange figure that had so abruptly appeared before her.

"Pleased to meet you, my lady," she whispered nervously. She knew that she looked a fright, but up until that very moment, she had not cared. She had not cared about anything for so very long.

"Come child," the woman gestured that she follow them and she did. At first, their movements were sedate and somber as they accompanied her down the long stairwell. However, as time progressed, they got farther and farther in front of her, and she began having trouble seeing them.

"Hold on please!" She cried out down the stairwell, moving faster and faster, until she was literally running down the stairs. Every so often, she would get a glimpse of a pale stream of red hair or a laughing cheerful face, but for the most part, she was chasing nothing but the dark shadows that had continued to loom before and around her.

Stone walls and portraits whizzed past her as she ran, but she paid them no mind as she went past them; her hair unraveling as she went, flowing behind her back wildly like water. The darkness that had enclosed around her previously now seemed to welcome her into its folds easily, and before long, she found herself laughing out loud in delight at its childish actions.

"You can't frighten me!" She laughed, still practically flying down the stairs, chasing after the two ghosts in front of her.

As she ran, the nightmares of her life seemed to float and glide past her, lightening her soul considerably as they went by.

And then at long last, she tripped over the last few steps and tumbled gracelessly out into the corridor in a frumpy little heap of legs and bright blond hair. Quickly realizing that she wasn't harmed in the least, she jumped to her feet and looked around at her surroundings. Where once had stood a grown woman, eyes bitter and face drawn with many years of ongoing defeat now stood only a small child.

"James?" Her young voice called out into the hallway, only to be met with silence. And then—was that laughter she heard coming from down the way? She found herself skipping down the corridor as she sought out her joking friend.

The sound of his laughter took her carefully through the hallways until at long last it completely disappeared and she found herself standing in front of a large stone gargoyle. Peering up at it through golden blond hair, the little girl looked at it with a confused expression. Remarkably, she was not afraid of its odd appearance. On a whim, she lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed its nose; only to giggle in delight as it opened before her.

If the sight of more stairs bothered the child, then it was not apparent by her actions. She quickly bounced up the steps, watching in amazement as they lifted her higher and higher, until she came upon a door. With very little hesitation, the little girl turned the doorknob and easily let herself in.

The room that met her eyes was the most marvelous thing that she had ever seen, and for a moment, she hardly dared blink as she tried to take it all in. It was only on her second perusal of the wonders around her that she found the man slumped on the floor, his head in his hands as he wept.

Feeling very much like a character from some misguided faerie tale, Ariana bravely stepped forwards and put her hand on the man's shoulder.

"Why are you crying?" She asked in a timid voice.

"I have been very bad," the man answered in a mournful voice. He then happened to lift his head, and froze completely in his movements as he stared at her.

"Where did you come from?" Was his hesitant and trembling inquiry.

"I came from up high," she said, pointing in a vague direction towards the astronomy tower.

Misunderstanding, as most adults are wont towards doing with small children, Albus incorrectly assumed that she meant she had come from heaven. After all, how else could an exact copy of his sister manage to make her way into his life?

She was dead, was she not?

Epilogue

Six and a half years later . . .

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table where his friend and longtime rival, Draco Malfoy, was already seated, and wished that he could have already been sorted too.

"Snape, Harry!" Minerva called out then.

The hall broke out in whispers as he made his way up to the front.

"Can you believe the greasy git actually reproduced?" Seemed to be the caliber of most of them; eliciting more than a few well placed growls on Harry's part as he passed them.

He gave a small smile to his father as he passed the professors and made his way to the small stool that was always put out for the Sortings. Minerva—er, Professor McGonagall—handed him the Sorting Hat with a smile and he put it on carefully. Secretly, he hoped that no one would see how badly his hands were shaking.

"Ah Mr. Potter-Snape! What a pleasant surprise to find you sitting under my brim," the hat chortled out loudly into his ear almost immediately.

"It's just 'Snape,' but thanks though," he answered quietly within in his mind.

"It was just Potter to begin with. You mustn't forget that," the hat admonished.

"Yes well, can we just get on with it please?"

The Sorting Hat chuckled in his ear before continuing, and Harry tried to fight back his increasing anxiety with a few well placed deep breaths.

"Let's see here then, down to business and all that. I can see that you have a great deal of loyalty to your father; making Hufflepuff simultaneously a good and horrible choice, am I correct?"

Harry didn't respond. It was hard enough just remembering to breathe.

"And quite intelligent too, I see that as well. They may have to move you up a level or two in some of your classes when they see exactly what you understand."

"Then I'll learn to hide it better," was his unthinking response.

"Oh, your father wouldn't be happy about that, I daresay."

"I just don't want to be a freak," he admitted very very softly; his mind automatically going back to his earlier memories. He still remembered calling his father a freak and being so very afraid at how the man—his Tall Man—would respond.

"Come now, none of that. He didn't get angry at you and he wasn't even your father then. Being a Ravenclaw would allow your natural intelligence a place to shine."

"They're too concerned with book smarts though," he countered logically, secretly wishing the hat would hurry up. People had started whispering within the Great Hall over the length of time that it was taking him to get sorted. He could hear them.

"And you're a survivor, aren't you? There's more to intelligence than just knowledge, isn't there," the hat replied; thankfully without any additional side comments.

"Yes." Harry was far more aware than most of how much truth there was to that statement.

"Strength of character means that you would fit in well in Gryffindor, but perhaps not in the long run. They don't think like you do."

"I'm not an idiot," he scoffed derisively.

"Hardly. Well, I suppose there's only one thing to do."

"And that is?" Harry prompted when the Hat didn't continue.

"Well, to place you in SLYTHERIN!" The last word shouted aloud, effectively shocking the hall into silence for a split second. Harry managed to get the hat off of his head before the Slytherin table broke into cheers.

"We got Snape!" He realized Draco was shouting, and he let a small smile grace his lips as he walked over to the table.

. . .

Although Severus had told himself that he would be proud of Harry regardless of where he was sorted, he was secretly relieved when the Hat had called out "Slytherin." A Slytherin son he could handle; he wasn't as sure that he could have handled a Gryffindor one. Certainly, Gryffindors did have their uses; after all, Lily had been one, had she not? And even Minerva, for all of her annoyingly chivalrous actions and honorable notions, had still proven herself to be a formidable ally and friend to both him and his son throughout the last six and a half years.

Six and a half years of being Harry's father; he shook his head in slight amusement. It was a wonder that he wasn't entirely white haired yet. Speaking of being white haired though, his eyes slid automatically over to the headmaster. He certainly respected the old man a great deal more than he had when Harry had first come to live with him.

His thoughts turned to the petite, thirteen year old child currently seated to his employer's right. Wrapping his mind around the idea of raising his enemy's son was hard enough, but it was nothing compared to the convoluted relationship that existed between Ariana and Albus. Not for the first time, Severus found himself thanking the fates that he was an only child. Merlin only knew what would have happened had there been another Snape child running around the household when he had been growing up.

He stole another glance down towards that end of the table and fought back a smirk. This Ariana had come to them as a six year old and therefore had never been tortured by angry muggle boys. This Ariana did not remember the death of her mother, let alone the arrest of her father. As a result, this Ariana had no fear of magic, and actually was a prodigy of sorts; more often than not giving Albus a run for his money. She had only retained a few memories of her previous life and for all intents and purposes really was starting over.

The child had started out as a typical Hogwarts student—sorted into Hufflepuff, of all places—but soon had risen far above her peers, especially in Herbology. In fact, arrangements had been made over the summer for her to be taken on as an apprentice by Pomona Sprout at the beginning of this term, Ariana's third year.

It was odd how the existence of the child had made such a distinct change in the demeanor of the headmaster. Then again, he thought ruefully, Harry did much the same thing to me.

. . .

Harry and the other first year Slytherin boys were getting ready for bed later that night when Draco started in on him.

"What is that?" The blond haired boy had pointed disdainfully at his bed.

"You already know," he answered calmly, staring darkly at his friend.

"If it was stupid when you were four, then it's idiotic now, Har'."

Harry made a face. He hated Draco's nickname for him.

"It wasn't any stupider than Merlin the Dragon," he tossed back, grinning widely as the pale faced boy turned slightly pink.

"Yeah, but is he here now?" Draco countered, quickly regaining his equilibrium. They had an audience now and he had to make sure he came out looking good.

"I don't know. Have any of the rest of you seen a stuffed purple dragon anywhere?" Harry asked the other boys with a smirk of his own.

The group of eleven year olds snickered around them and Harry crossed his arms menacingly, silently daring Draco to push him just a bit farther.

"At least it wasn't a stupid pink bear!" Draco scowled back at him, crossing his arms too.

"Pink?" Nott asked with a chuckle of his own, peering past Harry to where his old pink friend still lay.

"My dad made him for me," he answered, silently daring them to say anything against their head of house.

"Still though Harry, you're eleven. You don't need a stupid stuffed animal to sleep with anymore," Draco said derisively, the other first years nodding their heads in agreement.

"He's not stupid," Harry answered defensively. "Bears are the best animals in the world."

Most of the boys openly scoffed at his statement, but Draco was the only one to actually respond.

"Yeah, and why do you think that, huh?" Draco asked; a small smirk already present on his face.

"Well, for one, their sense of smell is seven times stronger than a bloodhound's," he threw back quickly, stepping right up in Draco's face.

"So what?"

"And they can also do this," he said smiling widely before turning himself into a bear and growling loudly at the entire room.

Silence was the only reaction, and then screams could be heard up and down the hallway as Nott and the other first year boys quickly ran away from him.

Harry quickly morphed back into his human form and glared at Draco. He hadn't run and instead was smirking in a very self-satisfied manner back at him.

"You're a dope, you know that?" Harry pointed out exasperatedly.

"Yeah, but the look on their faces, Har'? Priceless!"

. . .

It wasn't any surprise to Severus to learn that he was needed in the Slytherin dorms that very first night. He knew that his Slytherins were sneakier than all of the other houses combined. He was used to that. On the other hand, he also knew that some of his students bore closer watching—Marcus Flint came to mind offhand, and he was sure that Draco Malfoy would be included in that group soon enough.

"Come on, Uncle Sev! It was really funny!" His godson tried arguing with him after he finally got the truth out of him.

"Mr. Nott," he said by way of answering, turning to look at the thin boy to his left. "Did you find it 'really funny?'" Severus asked in a very dry voice.

"Not particularly, sir," was the small boy's serious response.

Severus watched in closely guarded amusement as his godson's face took on a distinctly pouting expression.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Malfoy?" He narrowed his eyes in warning at the boy.

"Why are you so angry at me? Harry's the one at fault!" Draco blustered.

"And you were the instigator of such fault. I believe we've had this conversation before, and I doubt that it is the last time, given your history," he let a small sneer come across his face. "Detention tomorrow, Mr. Malfoy. And Mr. Snape?" He turned to his contrite looking son. "A word in private, if you please."

He turned on his heel and led his son to the bathroom. After casting a silencing spell, he put his hands on the boy's shoulders and kneeled in front of him.

"What have I told you about letting your temper take away your control?" He asked calmly, looking into his son's vibrant green eyes.

"I know, I know dad," Harry answered calmly, if not a bit tiredly. "He really can be an arse, you know?"

"You should also know better than most how he has been raised," Severus answered softly.

"Yeah, I have had a better role model," his son said with a small laugh.

Severus found himself smiling back.

"No doubt you remember our agreement?"

"Yeah dad, I do," his son answered slowly. "Any unsupervised animagi transformations," he answered in a bored tone, "will result in a loss of flying privileges for the rest of the week," Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "But dad, I wasn't unsupervised. I was here, in Slytherin. You have wards all over this place. If I had wanted to be unsupervised, I would have dismantled them first. It's not as though I don't know how," his son argued. "Or I could have cast a silencing spell," he added.

"So why did you not?" Severus asked, just the slightest bit intrigued.

"'Cause I didn't want to go to sleep without doing this first," his son answered mysteriously before engulfing Severus in a hug.

Severus wrapped his arms around his son's back and pulled him closer to his chest.

"What a sneaky little Slytherin you've been!" he remarked proudly into his child's ear. Harry only responded by turning his head and pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

"Will you be okay without me tonight Daddy?" His son whispered to him.

"I believe I will be now," Severus answered with a small grin.

"Good," his child said, letting go of his neck finally and taking a few steps backwards. "Goodnight Professor Snape," he added formally before heading back to bed.

"Goodnight son," Severus answered softly to the empty room.