It was the burnt hands that did him in. The second they'd gotten back to Privet Drive and in the front door, aunt Petunia had sneered down at him and asked, "What did you do to your hands fool boy?"

"I burned them aunt Petunia."

"On what?"

It was a trap. He knew he wasn't allowed to talk about anything magical or about any of his classes or the school. They hated magic and saying anything about his life away from Privet Drive was like cursing to the Dursleys, only Harry's punishment was always terrible and harsh.

"I was cooking something aunt Petunia."

"And they don't have any supervision at that school of yours? They expect to send you home so we can pay the medical bills for their stupidity?"

"I didn't have the gloves I needed."

"What gloves? You're so special you need gloves to cook?"

"I told you Petunia, it's a crackpot school they're running. Teaching them ‘parlor' tricks," Vernon piped in.

Harry looked back and forth between Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and even glanced at Dudley who smirked, meaning this was not going to turn out well for Harry no matter what he said.

"Dragon hide gloves aunt Petunia."

That had been the end of it. Dragons were not real, and Harry had told a lie, so he had to be punished... severely. It was hours before Harry woke up from his punishment, and he was more than dismayed to find that he was alone in the back seat of the car with Uncle Vernon up front driving. His body ached everywhere, his shirt was torn more than usual, and he was missing his right shoe. He also noted that his trunk and wand were not there.

"Where are we going?" Harry croaked. He couldn't see anything of the outside world because he was half laying on the back seat, half laying on the floor. There were flashes from streetlights in the darkness, and that was all.

"Back to London boy. We're not going to have any of your freakishness in our home around the holidays."

"But I can't get back to school until January."

From his side view of uncle Vernon's face, he saw him smile and it made him feel sick, or maybe it was just the way his stomach felt from the injuries.

Harry thought of trying to sit up to bail out of the car, but that wouldn't help. He'd still be without his wand and trunk in a place he didn't know with no money, and risking more injury to boot. No, he'd be better off going back to London. Maybe he could find someone on Platform Nine and Three Quarters to help get a message to Professor August at Hogwarts, or wherever he had gone for the holidays.

Losing track of time, Harry was surprised when the car came to a sudden halt. "Out boy."

Harry tried to sit up but was unable, so uncle Vernon got out of the car and came around to the back passenger door, where he angrily opened it and hauled Harry out onto the sidewalk. Harry landed with a moan and Vernon slammed the car door.

"See what such unnaturalness gets you boy?"

Feeling he had nothing to lose at this point, Harry said with a scowl, "Better put me back in the car or I'll put a curse on you!"

"With no wand to wave around?" Vernon taunted, but he looked worried.

"I'm going to count to three," Harry threated, but uncle Vernon ran back to the driver's side, and Harry threw caution to the wind and began screaming a string of nonsense words as the door slammed and his uncle sped away.

"Damn it," Harry said, feeling sullen. He lay there on the dark cold sidewalk for what felt like hours, just willing himself to get up. It wasn't in him to let things end this way, not yet, not when he didn't know for sure yet if he had a real family out there somewhere.

He looked at his watch eventually, but it was broken now, the glass cracked and the hands unmoving. Slowly and painfully he pushed himself up off the ground and staggered towards a cheerful looking store front, where he saw just how awful he looked in the reflection of the window glass. He had a black eye, his hair was a mess, there was a bruise on his cheek, and there was dried blood on his bottom lip and trailing down from his nose. They'd really done a job on him this time. He felt his torso and flexed all of his limbs as best he could, trying to take stock and see if there were any broken bones. It didn't feel like there were but he could tell his entire body was covered in bruises. He wished he could just crawl into a nice warm bed, even if it were just the thin mattress in his cupboard under the stairs. He was thankful however that by some miracle it wasn't snowing yet, though it was very cold.

Harry forced his feet to start walking so he could look for anyplace at all that looked warm and safe where he could sleep for the night. Before long, he found a narrow alley that looked like it might be sheltered from the wind, and slumped down against the stone wall behind some trash cans. He lay down on the hard, gravelly surface of the road and fell into a very difficult sleep.

* * *

People must have felt sorry for him. He was dirty and sullen looking, a far cry from the upper-class shopping district he'd been dumped in with clean and well-dressed people who looked far too cheery as they did their holiday shopping. For the first three days Harry actually ate fairly well. One woman who had a girl his age gave him a pastry for breakfast that first morning before continuing on her way, and for lunch he used the coins people had handed him to buy something from a street vendor. He still felt hungry all the time though, maybe because his body was using more energy because it was so cold.

Despite the kindness from strangers, Harry still ended up digging through rubbish bins in the alleys and in front of shops, looking for half eaten food people had thrown away, or anything he could use to cover himself with. At night he'd been stuffing newspapers up the front and back of his shirt and into his pant legs trying to stay warm. It never worked very well, but at least it was something. To keep warm he tried not to go to sleep until he had to, despite how tired he was all the time, so he walked around in the evenings looking at the Christmas lights the stores had put up in their windows and around their doors, watching people who looked happy, and pretending that he was just strolling down this street on a shopping trip for gifts he would give to a family that loved and wanted him. It made him feel sad when he imagined it would be a happy Christmas, because he could never convince himself. It was only by determination not to let it end this way, as it had been the first night, that kept Harry going, kept him getting up each morning, kept him eating food from rubbish bins. It was his will to make it back to Hogwarts that carried him through a week and a half of living on the streets, right up to the day that he came face to face with the people who had played such a large part in putting him there.

* * *

Severus Snape liked to think that he was a good man. There were no delusions that he hadn't done bad things in his life, and he knew he had failed at a great number of things, but he still considered himself on the right side of things most of the time. For instance, the son he didn't realize he'd had, who had come to him at eleven with determination set in his eyes to prove that he had a father. Calen had told him flat out after class one day, "Sir I have to talk to you. I'm your son, and I'm coming home with you for the summer."

With a statement like that, he didn't even stop to think that the boy had been joking. With his reputation amongst the students, he couldn't see one of them claiming to be his son unless it was true.

After preforming a quick and discrete test to check, he'd taken Calen to the Ministry straightaway to have the paperwork drawn up, and tried as best as he could to provide for all the boy's needs, material and emotional. At first he hadn't liked the idea of being a father, but now he found he quite liked it. Calen looked up to him and came to him for advice, and he enjoyed building up his son's ego and teaching him things, passing things on to Calen that his grandfather had passed on to him.

This would be the first Christmas they spent together and while he'd already gotten Calen a great number of expensive gifts, he still wanted to take him shopping. Calen only had one friend in Ravenclaw, and Severus wanted to give him a chance to get Benny a gift to send off for Christmas.

He felt very fortunate as a father on this particular shopping trip however, to pass on something good to his son that his son seemed to be lacking. Since Calen had come to him, he'd done his best to provide for him, even to the point of spoiling him, and Calen rarely saw the need to give to anyone else. So when Severus spotted a homeless child that looked to be about Calen's age, digging through a trash can with his back to them, he reached into his pocket and withdrew several Muggle coins.

"Here, go and give this to him."

Calen looked up. "What for?"

"Because it's the holidays and he needs it."

Calen looked as if he weren't happy about giving the money away, but took it and hesitantly walked forward anyway. While Calen had endured some hardship living in an orphanage, he had never known what it was to truly be poor and rely on the kindness of total strangers. It was something Severus hoped he would never have to do. He hoped that he could teach him through small acts of kindness to truly appreciate what he had and also learn to give of himself to others.

"Er, here." Calen approached the boy uncertainly, looking uncomfortable and held out the coins. It took a moment before the homeless boy pulled his head and arms out of the trash can and stood up to see if someone was talking to him. Severus stared at the child who stood there staring at his son. His face was dirty, he was badly bruised as if he'd been in a car wreck, and he was missing one shoe. It was more than the state of him though that made Severus stare... he knew who this boy was, and while he really thought his eyes were deceiving him, it seemed that Calen recognized him too.

Harry Potter stared at the money being offered down to him by Calen, his brother, and wasn't sure what to do. Seeing his family offer him money... well, it made him feel empty inside. His eyes darted from Calen to the tall Potions Master, and then back to the few coins in Calen's hand. Calen looked so shocked to see Harry there, that he hadn't yet dropped his arm.

Harry held out his hand palm up and Calen dropped the coins into it. Harry looked down at the money. It might be enough to get a hot meal. The first meal he would have eaten in days. It had snowed for the last few nights and Harry, feeling the effects of the bitter cold, almost considered buying a hot chocolate instead. With a sigh, he looked down at the ground and moved past the father and son that wanted nothing to do with him, being careful to keep his shoeless foot, which was wrapped in newspapers and twine, out of any puddles or snow.

"Potter!" Snape was calling after him, but Harry ignored him. He didn't want them to see him like this. What good would it do anyway? They cared nothing for him. The only reason they'd probably given him money in the first place was because they thought he was someone else. Maybe they wanted their money back now he thought. Knowing there was a pub that served food just a few doors up, Harry hurried to get inside. He hadn't been inside before and he doubted very much they'd serve him with the way he looked, but he wanted to get out of sight of the two Snapes.

Inside, Harry let the wash of warmth come over him and would have been content to just stand there for a few moments letting his skin warm up, but people were looking at him, so he moved to the counter where the bar keep gave him a dismayed look.

"Please sir," Harry said, holding up the coins. "Can I have something to eat?"

"We don't serve people without shoes here." He pointed to the sign back near the door and Harry turned to look, but found Snape and Calen standing there in the open doorway staring at him instead.

"Not even a hot chocolate?" Harry asked, feeling desperate as he turned back to the man.

"I'm sorry son. You'll scare away the customers."

Harry dropped his hand, coins still there and turned to head back for the door, hoping Professor Snape wouldn't make a scene and try to detain him. Luckily the man let him pass without a word. Maybe they weren't following me, Harry thought, why would they, they don't care. No, they were probably heading in to get some lunch.

"Potter stop!"

As the bitter cold bit at his hands and cheeks again upon exiting back out onto the icy sidewalk, he heard the Potion's Master calling his name again, but he didn't turn back and instead hurried down the street. He'd gotten to know this street and it's back alleys fairly well over the last week and a half, and he hoped he could lose them if he could just get back to his alley. He was cold and tired though and still very injured and couldn't hope to move as fast as they could.

"Potter!"

Harry broke out into as much of a run as he could. He was almost back to his alley where his newspapers and his trashcans were. Just as he turned into it though, a strong hand gripped his bruised upper arm and made him stop.

"Just- just leave me alone," Harry said, angrily at first but then he added tiredly, "please."

"Potter-" If Harry hadn't been staring at the ground he might have seen the lost look on his Professor's face. As it was though, Severus wasn't sure what to say to the child now that he'd caught him. As Harry's eyes remained glued to the ground and Calen remained silent just behind his father, Severus took in the chapped red appearance of Harry's cheeks, his dry cracked lips, and the dirty nature of the boy's messy hair, the hair that he had recently cut short with a knife in the safety of a school corridor. Suddenly he felt very guilty about that, guilt being an emotion he was not accustomed to and often ignored.

"Why are you here, where is your family?" It was the only question Severus could think to ask. Potter was obviously embarrassed and didn't want them to see him like this.

"I think you've got the wrong person sir," Harry mumbled, looking down.

"I'm staring at Harry Potter. Now answer my question." He couldn't help but be irritated with the whelp. The child always had a way of irritating him nearly every time he spoke.

"Don't have a family," Harry said then, still staring down. Severus didn't know that Harry was choosing to stare at the ground at this moment so that he wouldn't get angry or start crying. Inside the anger was burning in Harry's stomach and so was the hurt. They were intermingled and begging to be let out. Harry wryly thought about what Professor August had said then, about not seeing a headline about the Potions Master being attacked for his blood, and it calmed Harry for a moment, making him laugh a little inside.

"You are supposed to be with your aunt and uncle," Severus said, anger starting to come through in his voice now. He let go of Harry's arm and Harry fell back the few inches to the brick wall behind him, holding his arm where Snape's grip had aggravated his injuries.

"Don't have a family," Harry repeated, staring somewhere in the vicinity of Snape's shirt buttons. What he really wanted to say was, ‘my family's standing right in front of me and they don't want me because Calen's a spoilt brat and my father's a git,' but he didn't.

"Potter, if you won't answer my questions, I will drag you to Surrey myself and seek out the answers the-"

"I DON'T HAVE A FAMILY!" Harry shouted, cutting him off and feeling as though he had snapped at last. He had finally looked up and his red chapped cheeks made him look rather angry. He just wanted to have done with it. "MY FAMILY- my family," Harry lowered his voice, not wanting the police to be called because then he wouldn't be allowed to live in his alley anymore, "is standing right in front of me you stupid git. My family wants nothing to do with me. My brother is a spoilt little brat who likes strutting around the school and punching people, and my father is a big stupid oaf who tortures his kids and violates them by slashing off their hair for no reason at all!"

"You'd better reel your tongue back in Potter, or I'll spell it to the roof of your mouth! I will not stand here and listen to your asinine fantasies. I knew I should have fire-called St. Mungos-"

Harry watched with some satisfaction as Snape's eyes widened and Calen looked confused, as Harry reached down to the ground suddenly and picked up a jagged rock and then proceeded to slice open his hand and let the blood drip down to the ground in a pool. He realized that he must have looked incensed. He felt as angry as Snape looked. They locked eyes as Calen looked back and forth between the two of them. Go on Snape, do it, Harry thought, add your blood, you know what this spell is. He was daring him to do it the second he'd cut his hand open. It was the moment of truth, and woe unto him if he was wrong. He wondered if August would care enough to come get him out of the insane asylum at Mungos if Snape actually took him there.

"Asinine," Snape spat, but he didn't break eye contact as he withdrew his wand and the same blade that had cut Harry's hair appeared at the end of it. He made a tiny pin prick in his finger and squeezed it with his other finger, letting a drop of it fall to the ground into Harry's little pool of blood, which was now starting to congeal because it was so bitterly cold outside.

"Go on. Look at it," Harry dared in a bitter voice. Snape finally broke eye contact with him, though he looked murderous, and looked down to the blood. Harry looked to see Calen was looking too, and then stared down at it himself. It was bubbling like a potion in a hot cauldron, and Harry wasn't sure if it was relief washing over him or total uncertainty to find out he was a Snape, a part of this family that for all he had seen so far, was as cruel as the Dursleys.

Harry didn't look back up, and neither did Snape who was still staring down at the magic intermingling between the two blood samples.

Suddenly Severus felt unsure of himself. Only minutes before he'd been strolling down the alley with his son, feeling good about himself, feeling good about sharing a lesson with his son about giving to those in need as any good father would. Now he stood before another son he didn't know he'd had, a son he'd been cruel to, a son who was in great need. If he turned him away, stalked away with Calen and never looked back, he would be teaching Calen everything the opposite of what he'd intended to. But could he really take Harry? Could he really take this awkward, irritating child that Lily had given to him, not in life but in death?

Confusion and uncertainty boiled in him along with more guilt than he'd felt in a long time, and he covered it up with a strong look of hate and anger. He took Calen's arm and then gripped Harry's and disapparated. This was not going to be the joyous Christmas he had planned.