Severus Snape's destination was The Burrow. He had written to Molly Weasley about Potter's broom and had explained the situation. He wanted to meet with Ronald Weasley, to explain Potter's bequest regarding the broom, and to give it to him.

He was nervous, though, and that, in turn, irritated him. The youngest Weasley boy was still his student, a Gryffindor, and quite possibly one of his worst students next to Neville Longbottom. It didn't help that he'd also been angry at the Weasley boy's reaction to his de-aged friend. At the time, he hadn't understood why Ronald Weasley was upset at the child; even after he was told that Weasley was mourning the loss of Potter he didn't understand. Not until that day during the Melancton Hunt when Harry had explained to him that he wasn't Potter. It had been a shock that didn't sink in until much later that Potter was as dead as any witch or wizard that had been a casualty at the Battle of Riddle Cemetery.

Since Potter was, in an odd way, dead to those that had known and cared about him, Severus had been adamant about honoring the few bequests Potter had made in his journal that Severus had. His beloved Firebolt broom, a gift from Sirius Black, Potter had wanted his best friend to have. His books he'd wanted Hermione to have. Today, he was honoring those two last requests.

"Severus! How are you?" Molly waved to him from her garden. She was harvesting what appeared to be blackberries.

"I'm well, Molly." He took the basket of berries as she handed them to him. She then stepped over a small fence that kept the blackberry bushes from the rest of the garden.

"I'm making Blackberry Tarts today and just ran out of berries. Could I send some home with you, Severus?"

"I would never turn down any of your cooking, Molly. Although, I think that Echo might be some rather good competition for you."

Molly's eyebrows rose at this uncharacteristic boasting of the young woman she'd met briefly at Harry's birthday party. "I think I might have to invite you and your young lady to dinner some evening, Severus."

"Echo would enjoy that," he nodded.

Molly led him towards the Burrow. "Arthur and I just heard this morning from Bill about taking over Potions from you, Severus. He's very excited about teaching. And, settling down."

"So I heard from Albus. Bill has a fiance?" asked Severus, suddenly wondering how he'd become so easy with 'small talk'.

"Not yet, but Arthur and I are hoping. Fleur Delacour is a sweet girl, if a bit on the uppity side. She seems to adore Bill, though, and that's what's important.

"Delacour? Isn't that the young woman from Beauxbaton that took part in the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"

"The very same. Ron seems to be a little sweet on Fleur's little sister, Gabrielle. Now that child is a dear thing and she seems absolutely in hero worship over Ron." Molly chuckled.

"I seem to recall that it was Potter that rescued the little girl."

"Gabrielle seems to see that differently. Well, I'll get Ron for you, Severus."

They were now in the kitchen and Molly took the basket of berries from the Potions Master. Severus quickly stepped into the living room just as Molly shouted up the stairs for her youngest son. Only a few seconds later there was a rhythmic thumping on the stairs as Ronald Weasley answered his mother's call.

"Professor Snape is here to see you, Ron. Mind your manners, now and I'll be in with some tarts in a few minutes."

"Yeah, mum." Ron glared at his Potions professor who was in the living room looking at some of his mother's framed photographs of their time in Egypt when they visited his brother Bill.

Ron knew the professor was coming to see him, but neither his mother nor father would tell him why. He hoped he wasn't in trouble. He shouldn't be. It was summer, still. But, that was the 'greasy git' standing in his living room, and he'd probably find something that the Gryffindor did to take points for.

"Professor Snape?" Ron hated that his voice cracked. He coughed and the older wizard turned slowly.

"Mr. Weasley." He noted the crack in the voice and that the boy had had an obvious growth spurt this summer. Ronald Weasley was almost tall enough to look him in the eye. "Sit down, Mr. Weasley."

Ron tried to keep the smart remark from leaving his mouth as he was invited to sit on his own furniture in his own house! He sat down on the edge of the couch and gripped his hands in his lap.

"What's going on, Professor?" Ron forced himself to ask, even though his heart felt like it was ready to jump into his throat.

"I have recently come to understand your... grief at losing your friend, Potter, Mr. Weasley." Severus turned so he was not completely facing the boy, but just enough that he could see him out of the corner of his eye. "It is a strange situation we find ourselves in with a de-aged Harry Potter, but it was made very clear to me that my son, Harry Potter-Snape, is not the boy you and I knew. Potter... your friend and my student, was a strange casualty of war."

Ron hesitated and then, his gripped hands, loosened. "Hermione understood that right away. I think it was after all of us saw Harry for his birthday... I think there were others that got it, too." Ron suddenly slammed his fists to his side on the soft couch cushions. "I just wish I could understand why he did it, sir!"

Severus turned to face the youngest Weasley, and although he was nearly of age, in that moment of questioning, he was still the eleven year old innocent he'd watched getting eagerly sorted into Gryffindor.

"It was the death of his godfather, Mr. Weasley. He... loved Sirius Black."

Ron's head shot up and in his eyes was the unasked question of how the wizard who'd been his best friend's enemy knew his secrets.

"Potter left a journal. Much of it was written his last few days. He spoke mostly about Black and his guilt over the man's death, and guilt over the death of Cedric Diggory."

Ron couldn't speak, and to his disgust, he caught a tear rolling down his cheek. He swiped it away, but not before Snape saw it. Ron stared, hard, down at the floor, but that must have allowed more tears to run down his cheeks. The redhead was a little startled when his Potions teacher sharply shoved a handkerchief at him. He took it, just barely muttering his thanks, and wiped away his tears. He thought he was done with this stupid crying.

Severus felt very uncomfortable with the teenager's tears and almost wished for an interruption from Molly. She was bustling rather loudly in the kitchen, but showed no sign of insinuating herself between the two wizards.

"Mr. Weasley, I came here because I have neglected a final request Potter made in his journal. He left what amounted to a last will and testament and after talking with my son, I have decided that it is suitable to honor his request."

Ron looked up in curiosity just as Severus withdrew a small package from his pocket. With an Engorgio Spell he enlarged it and Ron let out a gasp as he recognised his best friend's beloved broom, his Firebolt.

"Potter wanted you to have this," said Severus handing over the broom. "My son feels that you'll value it more than he would since Potter was your best friend and you knew what the broom meant to him."

Ron took the Firebolt, reverently. His mouth dropped slightly open as he ran one hand over the handle, his fingers feeling the carved dedication from Sirius. He walked closer to the window so he could read the words.

"To my beloved godson, Siri," Ron read softly out loud. For awhile he stared out the window. Finally, when he spoke, his voice was apologetic. "I know... I've been kinda distant from... from your son, sir. I do get it, now. He's not the Harry I knew." He smoothed his hand over the broom and although tears glistened in his eyes, they did not fall. "Thank you for the broom, Professor."

Severus watched as the boy walked out of the living room and out of the house. A flash from the window and he turned just in time to catch the small figure of Ronald Weasley flying high into the air on the Firebolt.

His next stop was Hermione Granger's home in a modest looking Muggle neighborhood. He had transfigured his robes so that he wore a summer jacket over a dark green, cotton shirt, black trousers, and his favorite dragon hide boots. Most Muggles mistook the dark black scales of the dragon hide for snakeskin so there was no need to disguise them.

In front of him was a picturesque, two level home painted white. The grass was neatly mowed and the garden circling the house, was a bloom of colour. In the midst of the flowers, cleverly hidden, he detected an inner garden of magical plants beneath the shimmer of well woven Disillushionment Glamour.

Severus walked up the wide, slate path and to the front door that was painted candy cane red. He rapped his knuckles upon the door. Less than a minute later the door was opened by a middle-aged man with greying hair and half lens reading glasses perched upon his nose.

"Are you Professor Snape?" asked the man.

"I am," he replied.

"Gregory Granger," the older man's hand shot out and met Severus' halfway. His grip was dry, and solid. "Come on in, professor. Can I get you a drink? I've got aged scotch, or herb tea, if you're not a drinker."

"Scotch would not be unappreciated, Dr. Granger," said Severus as he took a comfortably worn chair indicated by Hermione's father.

Dr. Granger went over to a sideboard where there was a bottle of scotch and several crystal glasses. He poured a measure of dark amber liquor into two glasses and brought one over to Severus.

"You're a bit early, Professor Snape. Hermione and her mother went into to town to do some shopping. They'll be here, though, in about ten minutes."

Hermione and her mother, Anna, arrived home twenty minutes later, but neither Severus nor Gregory were aware of that fact. Both men were caught up in a sports game on the television and to Hermione's shock, her dour Potions professor was shouting colourful imprecations at the players on the TV right along with what her father was shouting. Anna clapped her hands over her daughter's ears and hustled her into the kitchen.

Anna laughed, "I'm guessing that's your professor from school, dear?"

There was another shout from the men, this time of triumph. Hermione peeked through the closed kitchen door. "I can't wait to tell Draco and Ron about this," she giggled.

"I take it he's a bit more reserved than that?" asked her mother.

"Oh very, mum. Ever since he adopted little Harry, he's been very different, though. I think having a son has mellowed him a bit."

"Children will do that to you, dear," said Anna as she began to take out the ingredients for dinner from the refrigerator. "The soldiers under your father when he was a Marine were scared to death of him."

"Did they respect Daddy, though?" she asked as she began to help her mother by preparing the salad.

"Very much so, dear. Every single one of them knew that your father was so hard with them because he wanted them to be as safe as possible when circumstances warranted it. I imagine the discipline your professor requires in his Potions class is quite similar."

"Indeed it is," came the low tones that had first sent a thrill of terror down her spine when she was a first year.

Anna turned and smiled brightly, "Professor Snape! So good to meet one of Hermione's favorite instructors."

Severus turned a dark, questioning eye upon the young Gryffindor who was blushing brightly. "Favorite, Miss Granger?"

"I... I... uhm..." she stammered and turned a vicious glare at her blabbermouth of a mother.

"Will you stay for dinner, professor?" asked Anna.

"Alas, I cannot, madame. My son is waiting for me," he declined politely.

"Well then, another time I hope. Hermione, why don't you show your teacher to your father's den. Keep the door open, mind," her mother cautioned.

"Mother!" Hermione coloured again, but flounced out of the kitchen indignantly.

With a sigh, Severus followed the embarrassed girl back out into the living room and through another door into a wood panelled den.

"I'm sorry for that, Professor. My mother's rather parochial," she sighed.

"Your mother is only looking out for you, Miss Granger, as any parent will. Please do not apologise for that."

"Yes, sir," she replied, abashed.

Before the silence had a chance to grow awkward, Severus removed a shrunken box from his pocket. He didn't enlarge it right away.

"I am here because your friend Potter left what amounted to a final request before de-aging himself. He asked that his broom go to Ronald Weasley. I delivered it this afternoon. For you, he wished you to have his books." He enlarged the box and placed it on the floor.

Hermione knelt down and looked through the books. They were Potter's textbooks, but also all the books he'd ever been given as gifts. She lifted one that she'd given to him for Christmas their first year. It had been a late gift that she had given to him after Christmas. The book was titled 'Famous Wizards That Lived As Muggles'. The book was very worn, the spine was cracked, and its pages were marked by dozens of little yellow post-it notes.

Severus seated himself in the only chair and then leaned over to pick up a book. It, too, had pages marked by post-it notes. "I never thought Potter was much of a reader," he mused softly. "In flipping through some of the books that weren't his textbooks, he made hundreds of notes in the margins."

Hermione smiled as she opened the book she still had in her hands and read on the frontispiece, 'From Hermione, Christmas 1991'. "I was always telling him not to write in his books but he'd always counter by telling me that if he wrote notes the way I did, he'd lose them."

"It is possible to lose books," said Severus.

Hermione shook her head. "Not his."

"A spell?" asked Severus.

"No. Harry just really valued everything that was ever given to him, sir. His trunk was always crammed full of his stuff and was kind of messy, but he knew exactly where everything was. He was really happy in our second year when I taught him how to shrink things."

"Potter never threw anything away?" the Potions professor was astonished at this part of Potter he'd never known.

Hermione shook her head. "Not one single thing." Hermione put the book back carefully, and then took the one that Severus held. Staring down at the books, she asked, "Sir, Har... uhm... Potter's wand? And, the cloak from his father? Do you have them?"

"The Invisibility Cloak is in James Potter's vault at Gringott's which Harry will have access to when he is sixteen. As for the wand..." Severus let out a deep breath. "According to Ollivander Harry will undoubtedly be incompatible with the wand. I have given it to Albus. Who knows, perhaps one day the wand may call to one of Harry's children, or grandchildren. Or, it may not."

The awkward silence he'd tried to avoid earlier descended and Severus tried to find something to say as Hermione stared into the box of Potter's books. He was just going to give up and make his exit when the Gryffindor stretched out her hand and touched the back of his left hand.

"Thank you, Professor. For everything." She patted his hand, rose to her feet, and then picked up the box, leaving Severus behind in her father's den.

Severus was never more pleased to be met by his son the moment he Apparated to the cottage. Harry had been playing with his Gobstones while Hector tried, hopelessly, to sleep under the great olive tree. The dog was sparkling from confetti and glitter, and currently had his paws over his ears in protest against the noisier Gobstones. When Harry heard the loud pop just outside the gate he abandoned the colourful set of Gobstones and ran into his father's arms.

Quite possibly, Severus Snape's greatest secret was that he, too, had mourned the loss of Potter. Not with tears or sadness as his friends did, but he mourned the fact that no one, not even himself, had seen how desperate the young boy had been to have someone, an adult... a parent, that truly cared for him. This was a secret that Potter had confessed, through tears of his own grief, upon the pages of his journal that Severus had read- Oh dear Merlin it feels like an age ago!- yet had been just over a year.

That desperation, that plea to anyone listening to his anguished heart, had been the nail in the coffin, morbidly speaking, for Severus' determination to adopt Harry. Had it not been for the collapse of Cornelius Fudge and those corrupt officials beneath him, the adoption, even with the endorsement of Albus Dumbledore, the Weasleys, and Minerva McGonagall, might not have gone through. Knowing that he was not just Harry's father legally, but biologically as well, was a blessing he kept close to his heart every single day.

As he held his son in his arms, kissing his cheeks and tickling his ribs so he could hear his bubbly laughter, he swore he could hear, very faintly on the breeze, an old, familiar laughter that whispered, 'thank you, Severus, thank you for our son's happiness'.

Dinner that evening had been chosen by Harry: chicken gyros. He'd had lamb gyros during a visit to the Sunday Market and had been absolutely horrified when he found out he'd eaten 'a baby sheep'. However, he'd liked the taste of gyros and was prepared to eat them sans meat, when Echo created the chicken ones for him.

Over dinner, Harry had an odd request for his father.

"A house elf?" he frowned, tapping his napkin to his lips.

"Dobby, Dad, and he's a free house elf. He wears clothes that Hermione and Mrs. Weasley made for him. Dobby said he was my friend, so I'd like to know if he can come and play someday."

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Echo smirking. "Find this amusing, do you, my dear?" he snapped with a teasing lilt.

"A play date with a house elf," giggled Echo. "I think it's delightful!"

"Hmph!" grunted Severus.

Harry didn't quite get the joke between the adults, but they were doing that quite a bit lately, so he just ignored it. "Please, Dad?" he begged, really trying not to whine.

"You do know Draco will be arriving this Friday," began Severus with that ominous tone of voice that usually meant he was going to say no.

"I know! But we cleaned the cottage, and his room's made up, can't Dobby come, Dad? I'll be really, really good! I won't even fly on my broom and I'll give Hector an extra walk.

Hector, seated on the floor between Echo and Harry where he would get the most sneaked table scraps, perked up at the mention of a walk. His tail thumped enthusiastically.

"All right..."

"Yay!"

"No yelling at the table!" scowled Severus sharply.

Harry clamped his mouth shut, but then grinned and rasped in an exaggerated whisper, "Yippiee?"

Severus' right eyebrow rose acerbically. "Indeed. I'll Floo call your grandfather after dinner and ask him to see if..."

"Dobby."

"...if Dobby is available for a play date." Imperceptibly his eyes rolled and Echo just laughed.

Severus knelt by the fireplace with his head in green flame. In the Headmaster's office, Albus Dumbledore looked at him with a twinkling smirk on his face.

"Who is the elf Harry wishes a play date with, Severus?"

"Some free elf called Dobby. Apparently Harry had an encounter with the elf in the Hogwarts kitchen when he was chasing after Hector the night you babysat."

"Oh yes. I do recall that. Minerva and I had to suffer through Harry's favorite chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream for breakfast since Dobby was so very delighted in meeting the child." Albus twinkle faded perceptibly. "It seems there is something that is too sweet, even for me."

Severus grimaced. He'd indulged in those diabetic inducing pancakes just once, and regretted it. It was one of the few dishes he would not allow Harry to have. How his child could like them was beyond him.

"Give me a moment, Severus."

Severus pulled his head out of the Floo and rose, his knees cracking. He winced, and wondered, not for the umpteenth time, what had happened to his 'communication mirror' that the Mutt had created for some of the Order members during the war.

Floo calling was easy over the Floo Network, but it was a nuisance to have to bend over, or kneel. Albus had singed his beard and eyebrows countless times, and once had burned his hand rather badly because he'd just been too old for the contortions required for Floo calls.

Severus tapped his chin thoughtfully. Charms weren't his forte, but Miss Granger was a clever witch especially where Charms were concerned. Perhaps she might be up for a project to re-create the 'communicating mirrors'. If she could get it to work, her financial future would not only be set, but 'mirror calling' would be much more convenient for a good portion of the wizarding world.

"My boy!" Albus' head came through the green flame just as it whooshed.

"Yes, Albus?"

"Dobby would love to come and play with Harry. Would tomorrow at noon be a good time?"

Severus glanced back at Harry who was bouncing eagerly on the sofa. He smirked. "It would be perfect, Albus. From noon until five o'clock."

"Very good, then."

"Hi, grandpa!"

"Hello, child," smiled Albus. "Are you being a good boy for your father and Echo?"

"I am, grandpa."

"I'm glad to hear it. Goodbye and goodnight, then."

Harry and Severus echoed their farewells to Albus and his head vanished.

"Thanks, Dad!"

"You're welcome, child. Will you go and take your bath now?"

Without replying, Harry zipped out of the living room, down the hall, and into his bedroom.

Severus heard a snigger behind him. "Oh will you stop laughing?" He snarled at Echo as he grasped her by the wrist.

"I can't help it," she said as her eyes sparkled with her amusement. "A play date with a house elf."

He pulled Echo down into his lap as another small bout of laughter escaped her. He kissed her soundly, stopping the laughter.