Hours later, Harry awoke to the feel of his bed dipping. He could smell the subtle, warm vanilla scent of his mother’s perfume.

“Mom?” muttered Harry. He forced his eyes open to blink blearily up at her. Her red hair was bound up in a braid and the room was black, though Harry could tell it was his room at his home. He must have been asleep for a while.

“Shh, drink this, lovey,” whispered Lily. Harry obeyed and swallowed the thick potion she held to his lips without question. It tasted like the dirty dishwater Aunt Petunia held his head under once. Harry grimaced and stuck out his tongue. He was rewarded with a soft chuckle.

“I know, it’s gross,” soothed Lily, pushing the hair out of his eyes and holding out a water glass for him to drink from. Harry did so gratefully then fell back on the pillow.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered gently, continuing to gently stroke his hair. It was soothing and made Harry feel deeply tired.

“Time z’it?” asked Harry sleepily, allowing his eyes to close.

“Late,” whispered Lily. “It’s Christmas.” This, Harry realized, was his first good Christmas memory.

“I like spending Christmas with you,” muttered Harry, turning over a little in his covers. Just as Harry teetered on the edge of sleep, Lily stopped stroking his hair and stretched out on the bed beside him, laying her arm over his shoulder. A moment later, Harry heard his bedroom door creak open.

“Isn’t he getting a little big for this?” James whispered from the doorway, a thread of laughter in his voice.

“No,” Lily muttered into Harry’s hair. There was a sigh from the doorway, then footsteps, and moments later, Harry felt the bed dip as James lay out beside him. His father’s chest was right by his nose, and when James wrapped his arm around both him and Lily, Harry took advantage of being presumed asleep and snuggled under his father’s chin. The heartbeat thumped reassuringly under his ear.

“Mm…you’re right,” said James sleepily, laying a quick kiss on the crown of Harry’s head, “This is perfect.” Harry smiled to himself and allowed the steady thump, thump, thump of his father’s heartbeat to pull him into sleep.

Before Harry woke later Christmas morning, he felt the distinct uncomfortable sensation of being very carefully watched.

“Harry, wake up,” hissed Sirius. Instantly, Harry jerked awake to see Sirius and Grace, inches away from his face looking at him impatiently.

“It’s Christmas, Harry!” Grace said conspiratorially, her hazel eyes wide. “You haven’t forgotten Christmas, have you? It’s wonderful.”

“Don’t be stupid, Gracie. Of course he hasn’t forgotten Christmas,” said Sirius, rolling his eyes a little. “We can’t open our gifts until you get up. So get up,”

“I have presents?” asked Harry an awe. No one had ever bought him presents worth anything before. Sirius looked at Harry as though he was purposefully trying to be stupid.

“Of course you have presents. It’s Christmas,” Sirius explained impatiently. Unable to contain himself, Harry jumped out of bed. Before he followed Sirius out the door, Grace reached up and took his hand in hers with a smile. Feeling oddly touched, he smiled back at her and allowed her to pull him out of his room and down the stairs.

“Loveys, didn’t I tell you to let your brother sleep!” asked Lily from where she was drinking her coffee at the kitchen table. A look at the clock told Harry it was only 7 am. James, looking bleary-eyed eyed was cooking breakfast in the kitchen with Amelia.

“We waited a whole hour!” explained Sirius walking over to his mother with a playful grin on his face. She smirked at him indulgently and pulled out her chair, allowing the small boy to climb up onto her lap.

“Breakfast first,” Lily said gently, resting her chin on his head and looking up to Harry. “Happy Christmas, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” Harry beamed back at her.

 “Good,” answered Harry honestly. The pounding in his head was almost non-existent and the pain of the broken arm was only a slight twinge.

“Breakfast is ready!” said James from the kitchen. “Come get it. Harry, sit down I’ll bring you yours.” Harry slid into the seat beside Lily’s abandoned one and watched as James scooped out servings of breakfast strata and sausages on to the various plates being held out to him. After he scooped the last of the breakfast on to Lily’s plate, he leaned over and kissed him deeply. Grace’s plate tipped dangerously towards the floor, and James quickly broke off the kiss.

“Sirius, mind your sister,” James said absently, before kissing Lily again. Sirius gave them a look of disgust, but obediently took Grace’s plate out of her hand and ushered her to the table. When all the children had been seated and their parents still continued to kiss, Amelia coughed loudly.

“Mom, Harry’s going to starve,” she said diplomatically. Reluctantly James pulled apart from Lily and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle and blush.

“Dadddddy!” whined Grace getting laughs from James and Lily.

“Alright, alright,” James said, walking over and placing Harry’s well-filled plate in front of him.

“Happy Christmas, love,” he said, dropping a kiss on Harry’s head. They ate quickly, at the instance of Sirius, who had to be continually coerced into taking one more bite. Finally, Lily was satisfied that he had eaten enough to run into the living room and start tearing apart his stocking.

Harry’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the sight of the living room. There were so may presents underneath the tree that the bottom branches were getting tangled up in them. James flicked his wand at the tree and little faeries making the tree light up started to change colour and circle the tree. Six large stockings sat under the tree, each with a present under them, Gracie and Sirius were already attacking their stockings. Amelia politely looked to her parents for permission.

“Go on, monkey,” said James, smiling fondly as he watched her run head-long for the stockings in a rare display of giddiness.

“She’s so sweet,” whispered James thoughtfully. “I’m not so sure she’s mine.” Lily winked rather saucily at James then wrapped her arm around Harry.

“Harry, come on, stockings!” Sirius called. Harry obediently took his place between his siblings, reached out and pulled out a red stocking with a hand-stiched HARRY on it. He ran a hand over the stitching, feeling an embarrassing prickle of emotion.

“You’re supposed to open it,” Amelia explained kindly.

“Thanks,” said Harry a touch sharper than he meant to. He judiciously pulled out a mandarin orange, a variety of candies and chocolates, some new socks, underwear and a few other nicknacks. Underneath the stocking was a brightly wrapped package from Santa. Following Sirius’ lead, Harry tore it open to a find a brand new Firebolt under the wrappings.

“Wow!” yelped Sirius, abandoning his present half-way through opening it to look at Harry’s broomstick. “Can I ride it?!”

“Absolutely not. Given recent events I have half a mind to return that and let Harry stick with his Cleansweep,” said James from the couch, running a hand up and down Lily’s arm as she curled up against his side. “Professor McGonagall, however, insists that would be overly harsh for the youngest Quidditch player in a century.” There was a glow of pride on James’ face that made Harry grin.

“Thank you,” Harry said, running a hand over the broomstick in awe.

“It’s from Santa, remember?” Grace said hugging the large pink unicorn she just unwrapped.

“Cool! Thanks Santa!” said Sirius, holding up an extremely potent-looking Potion set.

“You are only allowed to use that with me, your mother or your Uncle. Got it?” said James. Sirius nodded distractedly and started to riffle through the kit.

“Mommy! Santa forgot magic” yelled Grace holding out the large pink unicorn she had gotten.

“Bring it here then.” Lily touched the unicorn with her wand and it sprung to life, running  excited circles around a delighted Grace. Silently, Amelia poured over instructions for her brand new camera, carefully reading every word.

“Can we do one more?” begged Sirius, with the air of someone who already knew their request was no good.

“Not until everyone arrives,” said James firmly standing up and stretching. “They should be here soon. Go get changed, I’ll start the cooking.” With that, he picked Sirius and Gracie up with either arm and walked them over to the stairs.

“Are you going to help me, pet?” James asked Amelia, she nodded eagerly and bolted back towards the kitchen. “And you just stay there,” James said with a smile to Lily who raised her cup of coffee in acknowledgement and settled back on the couch with a contended sigh.

Almost two hours later, while Harry was surprising enjoying himself with Grace and her unicorn, there was a sharp knock at the door.

“They’re here!” Grace squealed in pleasure, leaving Harry alone with the large, pink unicorn. Sirius and Amelia were mere steps behind her. Vaguely, Harry wondered who the new arrival was as the group disappeared into the entrance.

“Uncle Severus!” shrieked Grace. Harry’s jaw dropped to the floor comically even though there was no one around to see it. Uncle Severus. Maybe Severus was a common name in the Wizarding World. That had to be it.

“What are you doing opening the door without knowing who it is?” asked Snape in his unmistakable silky voice. This should have sent Grace running for cover but instead she giggled. James strode out of the kitchen across the living room to the entrance, wearing a large smile.

“I knew it was you!” she replied.

“We did!” insisted Sirius.

“Did you now? Well you’d better come give me a hug then,” replied Snape with a little laugh. This surprised Harry to the point that he actually got up off the living room floor and snuck up against the wall to peer at the entrance the moment his father passed.

“Happy Christmas, Snapes!” boomed James.

In the doorway, a beautiful, small-featured Asian woman, slim but for her heavily pregnant belly was holding a large bag of gifts and hugging Amelia.

“Happy Christmas, Potter,” said Snape with an easy smile as he embraced James. More surprising than the fact that Snape was hugging Harry’s father like an old friend, was that he was doing so while holding a small boy who must have been only a few months younger than Grace.

“And how are you, Mikey?” James asked taking the small boy out of Snape’s arms. “Have you gotten tonnes of presents from Santa?” Michael smiled shyly at James and nodded, as Severus watched him fondly.

“Brilliant!” exclaimed James turning to hug the unknown woman hello. “How are you, Polly?”

Now that Snape was no longer being hidden by his son or James, Harry could truly observe him. He looked different. His hair was shorter but not dramatically so, though it was noticeably less greasy. He wore a green sweater and dark jeans under a thick black cloak he was currently taking off. Most striking was the fact that he was smiling and talking casually, giving him a sociable air that the Snape Harry remembered so obviously lacked.

There was a cacophony of different conversations, bursts of laughs and loud noises as hugs and greetings were exchanged so enthusiastically that Harry could barely make out the separate conversations. It wasn’t until Grace had pulled a giggling Michael past Harry into the living room with Amelia to shake all their new presents, that Harry was able to make out the remaining conversations.

Sirius was jumping around Snape like a jackhammer, explaining with great excitement and detail, the chemistry set Santa had brought him. The Snape Harry knew would have torn the child’s head off instantly, but this Snape was watching Sirius with an amused, almost fond smile on his face.

“And then, you have to teach me what ingredients to put together so I can make the biggest explosion, ever!” said Sirius, his eyes glistening with unbridled joy.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea, love,” Severus said, his lips twitching from holding back laugher. “Why don’t you go show me what you’ve got in there and we’ll figure it out.”  Without further prompting, Sirius turned and ran into the living room, narrowly missing a vase and making explosive noises.

“You bought him explosives?” asked Snape, turning a half-incredulous, half-amused look to James.who ran a tired hand through his hair and gave Snape a wan smile.

“He’s been asking for it all year. Lily caved after Petunia slapped him,” explained James. Snape adopted an expression much more suited to the Snape Harry was familiar with, and Polly gasped in outrage.

“She slapped him?” she hissed. James opened his mouth to respond, but Sirius tore back into the entrance towards Snape, holding up his new chemistry set.

With the air of someone much practiced, Severus scooped the boy up onto his hip with one arm. Harry didn't miss the way the man’s eyes went to examine Sirius’ flushed pink cheek, nor the quick but uncharacteristically gentle kiss he planted on it. Not having heard the comments about Aunt Petunia, Sirius simply beamed at the attention and held the kit up for Snape to see. After a moment of reading Snape snorted and looked at James.

“You deserve the trouble you get yourself into, Potter,” Severus said before smiling at Sirius. “I think we can make something suitably destructive with all this.” There were no other words Sirius would have rather heard, and he pumped his fist in the air triumphantly.

“Ahem, you can all come into the kitchen and say hello to me!” called Lily unexpectedly from the kitchen.

“Alright you heard your mother,” Severus said, setting the boy down and swatting him playfully on the butt. Sirius galloped past Harry to his mother.

“You will make sure he doesn’t blow up my house, won’t you, Sev?” asked James sounding genuinely concerned for a moment. The woman beside Snape burst out laughing.

“No promises,” said Snape over his shoulder as he walked towards the living room. Harry turned himself further against the wall as Snape approached, realizing too late that there was nowhere to hide.

Sure enough, the second they started to walk, Snape’s eyes peered around the corner to meet Harry’s.

“Hello Professor Snape,” whispered Harry uncertainly. Despite the fact that Snape had been oddly friendly to everyone else in the room, Harry was sure that attitude wouldn’t extend to him. The briefest flicker of surprise appeared on Snape’s face before he crossed his arms and smirked down at Harry.

“Mr. Potter.” It was the sort of derisive Christmas greeting Harry would expect from Snape, except it was all wrong. The man’s eyes were dancing with amusement, and he was obviously trying not to smile.

“Clearly, we are having a rather formal Christmas,” James said looking at Harry with a furrowed brow. Snape picked up on the thread of concern in James’ voice and peered back down at Harry intently. Surprisingly, the man knelt down so he was at Harry’s eye-level and smiled.

“I heard about your little adventure,” said Snape. He reached up and cupped Harry’s cheek and it took all of his effort not to flinch away from the hand. “You Potters and your broomsticks, I’ll never get it. Your memories are still a little muddled, then?”

Harry blinked in confusion. Snape sounded, concerned, paternal even. The black eyes staring back at him held warm regard and not a speck of malice.

“A little, sir,” whispered Harry, needing to say something. Severus jerked a little in surprise at this and withdrew his hand, looking Harry up-and-down in overt appraisal.

“Well I’m sure you’ll be just fine soon,” Polly cut in wrapping an almost protective arm around Harry and giving Snape a firm look that clearly told him to back-off. She turned back to Harry with a smile that was so wide and reassuring, it was hard not to feel calmed.

“Now, I assume you remember what Christmas presents are.” Harry nodded numbly up at her, still perturbed by the calculating expression on Severus’ face. Polly smiled her approval. “Well that’s all you need to know. You have lots, and they are fabulous.” With that, she steered Harry away from the entrance and into the living room.

The Christmases Harry remembered usually involved him him being shut away in a cupboard while he listened to Dudley screech for more sweets and presents. Once, Dudley had pushed Aunt Petunia’s carefully decorated Christmas tree through the living room window because they had run out of shortbread cookies. In order to calm him, Petunia had made Harry walk to the nearest open Waitrose to get more. The lady working the cash register had though he was such a dear for running errands for his family on Christmas that she had given him a free pack of Christmas sweets. Harry had eaten them all in his cupboard while reading Dudley’s discarded copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. It was the best Christmas he had until now.

The two families fit seamlessly together with an ease that only could have come from frequent exposure. Michael and Grace were instantly attached at the hip, whispering, giggling and playing. The shy little boy happily took part in whatever game or girly activity she wanted to partake in. Sirius, rather surprisingly, seemed to have staked himself out as the boy’s protector and was always quick to snap at Grace for being too pushy or bossy.  Even Amelia had abandoned her book to play.

Harry had no idea how Snape managed to get a woman like Polly to marry him.  She was nearly as funny as she was kind and was currently loudly debating baby names with James in the living room amidst torrents of laugher from both sides. Snape and Lily were in deep conversation as they prepared appetizers in the kitchen. Curious as to what Snape possibly could be talking to Lily about, Harry tiptoed from the living room to the door of the kitchen to listen.

“I’m just saying, we would have come back early if you had told me how bad it was,” Severus said to Lily, sounding annoyed.

“And that’s precisely why I didn’t tell you,” Lily said lightly. Severus scowled at her, and her face softened. “Sev, there was nothing you could have done, and you needed a vacation. He’ll be fine in a few days.” They were talking about him Harry realized abruptly.

“Still I -” Severus stopped suddenly, and turned around looking directly to where Harry was hiding at the doorway. Before he could get mad, Harry ran into the safety of the living room and sat beside his father.  

“Uncle James?” Michael asked running up to Harry’s father.

“What is it, monkey?”

“Can we go flying in the snow again?” the boy asked, crawling onto James’ lap. He lay his head on James’ shoulder and brought a thumb to his mouth that was gently pushed away by James.

“Me too!” said Grace sitting on the couch beside James.

“I don’t see why not, unless you are too sleepy,” James teased.

“‘m not tired,” the little boy protested as his eyes drooped heavily. James smirked at Polly and settled the boy more comfortably against him.

“I think flying is the best thing in the world,” Michael muttered contentedly. At that James perked up and grinned broadly at Snape who was shaking his head back and forth as he levitated a large tray of eggnog into the living room.

“Do my ears deceive me, or is it true that a Snape enjoys - nay - loves flying,” asked James triumphantly. Snape looked like he just swallowed something rather sour.

“Michael, you’ve been spending too much time with your Uncle James,” replied Severus. James grinned triumphantly at the little boy who grinned back and gave him a high-five.


“Come on, you need a nap or you won’t be worth anything in a few hours,” said Severus reaching his arms out for Michael who yawned widely and allowed himself to be lifted up.

“You too, Gracie-Bell,” said Lily starting to stand up.

“But Mom…” she whined stomping her foot.

“I’ve got her,” said Snape. He waved Lily down and reached his hand out to Grace who took it with a particularly grumpy expression on her face.

“Can we have a story?” asked Grace, knowing she was going to loose the larger nap argument.

“As many as you’d like,” Snape promised.  

As the night wore on, Harry continued to observe Snape from the corner of his eye. The man joked with his father, helped his mother in the kitchen and constantly brought his wife h'orderves and non-alcoholic drinks.

Clearly Snape took the whole fatherhood thing seriously too. He doted on his son and read him and Gracie childish stories about Santa and elves and the meaning of Christmas. Harry wasn’t overly surprised that Snape liked the company of  Amelia who appreciated silence almost as much as Snape himself did, but he was surprised that he allowed her to cuddle up onto his shoulder.

Even more surprising was that Snape seemed to adore Sirius, whose loud, defiant personality Harry assumed Snape would have found off-putting. Instead, Snape laughed loudly at every joke and was currently explaining to Sirius why moonstone increased the intensity of explosions.

Still, despite the fact this new Snape apparently loved Harry’s family and was kind and surprisingly funny, his senses were still as sharp as always. Throughout the appetizers and large turkey dinner, whenever Harry snuck a look at Snape, moments later, Harry would feel Snape’s eyes on him from the other end of the table.

“Can we open presents now?!” Grace asked after everyone scraped the last of Pauline’s pecan pie off of their plates. Sirius, Amelia and Michael turned identical beseeching looks to their parents.

“Alright, you’ve all been patient enough,” Lily said picking up a few of the dishes. The children did not need to be told twice, and they all bolted out of the kitchen into the living room. Harry took up some of the plates and brought them to the counter.

“You’re not running for presents?” asked Snape. Harry froze, all the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Aside from observing Snape from the corner of his eye all night, he had purposefully avoided his least favourite professor throughout the evening. Reluctantly, he turned to face the man.

“No, sir,” Harry replied at nearly a whisper. Both of his parents were helping Michael and Grace dig presents out from the back of the tree, and neither Sirius or Amelia were focused on him. Snape took a step towards him.

“You know, you usually don’t call me sir,” Snape said, his voice kind but a little concerned as he studied Harry’s face. The pensive, almost stern look was something Harry was a little more used to, and he took a step back.

“Sorry,” Harry said, looking away from Snape’s intense eyes to the carpet. This reaction seem to legitimately worry Snape, and he stepped back to leave more distance between them.

“That’s alright Hare-bear, you can call me whatever you like,” Snape replied. Harry eyes snapped back to Snape’s face as he observed the man incredulously. A small smirk crossed Snape’s face.

“You’ve always hated that nickname,” Snape admitted, flicking his wand at the sink. The dishes started to wash themselves slowly. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with it though.”

“What do I usually call you?” Harry asked, his curiosity overcoming his reticence.

“Uncle Sev, mostly. Professor Snape while we’re in class,” Snape said, suppressing a smile. “Well, you’re supposed to at least.” Sensing that he had successfully built a bit of rapport, Snape took a step closer to Harry and knelt down so that they were almost eye-level.

“It must be scary to not remember people in your life and your connection to them,” said Snape conversationally. “It’ll all come back to you soon though. The important thing is that you know everyone here loves you very much.” It was odd to be taking comfort in Snape’s words, but as Harry reluctantly looked up into his Professor’s warm eyes, he couldn’t help but feel soothed. A small smile made its way across Harry’s face and Snape beamed at him.

“A smile, now that’s a sight for sore eyes,” he said approvingly. “You should be sitting down. Let’s go into the living room and open some presents, shall we?” Snape raised his arm like he was about to loop it around Harry’s shoulders, but he let it drop back to his side at the last moment, not wanting to push it. The two of them entered the living room, side-by-side.

“Daddy! Look! Uncle James and Auntie Lily got me glob!” Michael said, crawling into Snape’s lap with two large handfuls of smelly green material.


“What is it?” asked Severus. Michael made the green mess into a globe and threw it up in the air, the ball started to spin madly and Michael giggled at it. A moment later, it zoomed towards Severus’ face and exploded all over him. Everyone in the room burst out laughing, except for Snape who looked stunned and slightly pissed. Harry was sure he was going to start yelling until the man looked down at his son who was giggling madly, and smiled.

“That’s for the drum set Sirius got for his last birthday,” James said with a smirk to Snape who now laughed outright, and tapped his wand to his face, siphoned the green goo back in to a ball and handed it back to Michael. The little boy smiled gleefully and continued to toss it up and down.

For the next thirty minutes, Harry was almost able to forget about his headache and Snape. It was like he had been dropped into a scene from a Christmas movie. His father gave his mother a delicate diamond necklace, which had pleased her so much that they were having a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. Harry had gotten his first array of Christmas presents ever. He had gotten new clothes, a wide array of joke products from Zonkos and more sweets than he could ever dream of eating. The joy of the day, the large meal and the lightly throbbing headache was making Harry tired, and he was starting to doze off with his head on his mother’s lap.

“Harry, this one is for you,” said Grace holding a package out to him. Harry opened his eyes fully, sat up and took it.

“Another one?” asked Harry looking down at the package.

To Hare-Bear

Make sure you don't go showing this to Hagrid.

I wouldn't want him to get any ideas.

All the love in the word: Uncle Sev, Aunt Polly and Michael           

 Harry looked up at Snape. who smiled at him from behind Michael’s head, then hesitantly tore open the paper wrappings to reveal a thick book: Creatures too Dark to Dwell in the Light.

“Cool!” said Harry genuinely opening the book and flipping through it.

“You’re going to give him nightmares, Sev,” Lily said, looking over Harry’s shoulder to the pictures of a vampire with large, hideous teeth.

“Oh nonsense,” Snape said. “Harry’s a natural at Defence.” Harry couldn’t help but look up and smirk at Snape. It was odd to be complimented by the man.

“Thanks Aunt Polly - Uncle Sev,” said Harry after a moment of hesitation. His Aunt Polly smiled broadly at him, and the look of concern that had clouded Snape’s face dissipated slightly. Harry continued to thumb through the book, barely listening to the conversation the adults were having. An image popped out at Harry like an unwelcome, intrusive memory. A ghost-like girl with a terrifying scream on her face stared back at Harry with mad eyes. He felt his heart speed up in his chest and he raised a shaky finger over the description.

    Ghanzou, is a rare, but powerful, Chinese genie. The Ghanzou provides
    its victim with a highly realistic dreamscape wherein one
    sees exactly what their life would have been like ‘but-for’ a
    certain event. While the victim engages in their dream, the
    Ghanzou drains the victim of it’s blood and replaces the
    blood supply with a potentially lethal toxin. Almost all who
    face a Ghanzou die, as the only way to escape its grasp is for
    the victim to recognize the dream as a dream and kill themself.
    Most individuals are too seduced by the realistic visions to commit the act.

    The Ghanzo have been known to be so accurate that their
    venom has been used in Criminal trials to prove an
    individual’s guilt.

A cold sweat broke out over Harry’s skin and he felt his heart race. Trying to get a hold on himself he squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to remember falling off the broom. He remembered the sweetly concerned looks of his siblings as they stared down at him and the way his heart had dropped to his stomach when his Dad picked him up and held him close. Everything before that was dark. The vision of a stone wall swam in front of Harry’s eyes. A horrid painful jarring swept through his brain. He saw Snape hanging from the ceiling and felt the cold of the dungeon.

“Mommy, I wanna hot chocolate, please,” Gracie said, crawling up on Lily’s lap.

“I’ll get it,” said James moving to get up. Sirius was on his lap, half-asleep, wrapped in afghan and nestled further into James’ chest as protest.

“Oh don’t be silly,” said Pauline, flourishing her wand and causing a set of mugs, hot chocolate mix, marshmallows and a kettle to sail over and land on the coffee table. With a groan of relief, James relaxed back into the chair, pulling Sirius closer to him and closing his eyes contentedly.

“This is my favourite book,” Amelia said softly coming to sit closer to Snape.

“It was mine as well at your age,” Severus said wrapping an arm around the little girl. “You’re the only child I know who reads as much as I did.” Amelia smiled and blushed a little before burying her nose back behind her book.

It felt harder to breathe. It was all fake. Grace kicked her feet on Harry’s shoulder and smiled toothily at him, her thumb in her mouth. Harry stared back at her. The little girl sitting in front of him, who Harry had come to love and care for as though he had known her his whole life, wasn’t real. Harry’s parents had died before they had ever had a chance to even think of having more children.

As far as Harry knew, Snape didn’t even know a woman named Pauline, and whatever had happened to make Snape a kind, loveable family man certainly had not happened in real life. Pain seared through Harry’s brain.

“Harry, sweetheart, are you alright?” Lily asked above him from concern. A swell of nausea cursed through Harry.

“Fine. I’m fine,” Harry lied, standing up quickly. There was no time to perceive the looks on his parents faces, and he couldn't stand to look his siblings, knowing he was responsible for the fact that they never existed. He grabbed the book, turned and bolted up the staircase.

Harry ran the final steps up to his room and flopped down on his bed. He should have known better than to believe this life was real, nothing good or normal ever happened to him. He hadn’t just been unfamiliar with the details of his family life, he had completely not understood what it was like to be loved, to be a part of a family. That was not the sort of thing one forgets with a head injury. A quiet knock at the door broke Harry’s reverie.

“Harry?” called Snape for the other side of the door. “Can I come in?” Harry shut his eyes fiercely. Snape was the last person on the planet Harry wanted to see right now. His mother and father would have cared for him and loved him in real life, but Snape? The real Snape hated him. Still, even in dream world Harry didn’t have the guts to tell Snape to piss off, and the man took silence as assent. The door opened and the floorboards creaked as Snape crossed the room. Harry buried his head petulantly in his pillow when he felt the bed dip beside him.

“What’s wrong, love? Is it your head?” A hand settled gently between Harry’s shoulder blades. “I have a pain-reliever.” The offer of a pain-reliever was tempting enough to get Harry to reluctantly turn his head sideways on the pillow to look at Snape. There was a gentle smile on Snape’s face that looked completely out of place.

“Come on, sit up and drink this,” said Snape. He held a small vial out to Harry. Reluctantly, Harry sat himself up and took the vial out of Snape’s hand. It tasted like dirty socks but Harry choked it all down efficiently. Without a moment’s hesitation, Snape laid a hand on Harry’s forehead and frowned.

“You still feel a little warm. Maybe I should get your mother to floo a healer,” Snape muttered, more to himself than to Harry.

“No, no really I’m fine,” Harry said quickly. Snape looked down at him skeptically and Harry gave him his most beseeching look.

“I became immune to those eyes long ago, Harry,” said Snape, but he still remained seated on the bed. “I suppose there is not much that a healer could tell you. You’ve had a big day and need some rest. Go on, snuggle in.” Harry scrambled under the covers and reluctantly allowed Snape to smooth them out around his shoulders.

Harry observed this dream Snape for a moment wondering, not for the first time, how Snape could have turned out so differently. Clearly it had something to do with Harry’s parents being alive, but Snape hadn’t mentioned Harry’s parents once during their entire time at Hogwarts.

“Do you every think about how life would be different if one thing changed?” asked Harry slowly, feeling nervous butterflies in his stomach at the thought of asking his scariest Professor such an intimate question. Somehow, he knew this Snape wouldn’t yell at him. Sure enough, he simply looked shrewdly at Harry for a moment.

“Of course. I think everyone does sometimes. I try not to too much,” Snape admitted, a dark flash of emotion crossing his face.

“What if you knew everything was fake, your life, your family, everything like a fantasy, and you know you could bring back reality, but reality was so much worse. What would you do?” Snape’s eyes narrowed a little in concern.

“Why do you ask that?”

“I just have to know Pr - Uncle Sev, please,” Harry responded suddenly feeling desperate for advice. For a moment, Snape hesitated, then leaned over and brushed Harry’s fringe out of his eyes.

“No matter how lovely a dream is. It’s just a dream. What’s happening in reality, the good and the bad, that is what makes up your life,” Snape said softly. A weight settled on Harry’s chest. In reality, Snape was dying slowly in the the Hogwarts dungeons, Harry was hiding in a secret corridor. Ron and Hermione would have to go through the pain of losing him, and now that Harry knew that the world he was existing in wasn’t real, it would never be able to satisfy him the way it had before.

A warm pressure started to build-up behind Harry’s eyeballs. He furiously tried to blink back the tears, but Snape was too fast for him.

“Oh love, come here. You’re going to be ok,” said Severus pulling Harry forward into his arms. A sob burst out of Harry, and he knew he should have been embarrassed to be bawling in front of Snape, but he was too heartbroken to care. It seemed particularly cruel that Harry had to lose his family twice. He still wasn’t remotely over losing them the first time.

Snape rubbed his back and hushed him with the ease of someone who had considerable practice soothing not just children in general, but Harry in particular. The real life Snape wouldn't have this skill. There was no one in his life, and for the first time Harry realized just how lonely Snape must feel. At least Harry was going back to his friends. He was sending Snape back from having a loving family to bitterly roaming the dungeons of Hogwarts alone. Sick with sympathy, Harry reached up and wrapped his arms around Snape’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Harry choked out.

“Whatever for?” muttered Snape as he rocked Harry gently, almost unconsciously, in an attempt to soothe him, but Harry was fast approaching inconsolable.

“You’ll hate me,” whispered Harry. At that, Snape pulled back and frowned down at Harry.

“I could never hate you, Harry,” said Snape sounding genuinely aghast. “I love you.” Harry let out a choked sob at that. He realized that when he got back to Hogwarts, no one was going to tell him that they loved him anymore.

“What’s happened that upset you so much?” asked Snape softly. Harry looked hesitantly up at Snape who smiled at him. “You can tell me anything, that’s the point of having a godparent.”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Harry said, brushing the tears from his face.

“Love, clearly you’re not fine,” Snape said.

“I just -I’m just confused.” lied Harry, wishing it was the truth. Snape’s eyes softened, and he gently reached up and patted Harry’s cheek.

“I know. I know it’s hard,” Snape said. “Everything will make sense soon, alright?” He pulled the covers up over Harry’s shoulders and looked down at him in concern.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” asked Snape in a voice far too tender to have ever been real. Harry shook his head no.

“Ok, get some sleep, monkey. Things will look better in the morning. I love you,” Snape said before kissing him on the forehead as though he had tucked Harry in many times before.

Harry took a deep breath, he knew what he had to do. As soon as it was late enough that the footsteps had all gone away. Harry pulled himself out of his bed, out of his perfect room, and padded down the steps to the kitchen. Quietly, as possible he riffled through the drawers until he found a thin, silver knife.

“Hare-bear? What are you doing up? Is everything ok?” James asked. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as he whirled around to face his Dad, Lily, Pauline and Snape, all of whom clearly had been drinking in the living room.

“Yeah, I - uh -”

“What is this?” asked James curiously looking at the book Harry had brought down with him. “A Ghanzou?” Harry looked between them for a moment, but there wasn’t much point in trying to hide it, he’d be gone soon anyways.

“This is why I have no memories! It wasn't the head injury. I was touched by a Ghanzou” Harry explained looking desperately from one adult to another. Pauline raised her eyebrow skeptically.

“Harry…those are very rare,” said Severus slowly, now looking at Harry with concern.

“Sev, I warned you about that book,” Lily said, coming to put her arm around Harry.

“Alright, you’re right,” replied Severus, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“Harry, sweetheart…” started Lily, her voice trying to be soothing and reasonable, even though he could hear a clear thread of worry. It was too much for Harry who cut her off.

“No, I know. I saw her,” said Harry emphatically. There was a moment of stunned silence as the adults tried to process what Harry said.

“Mom, can I have some water, please?” said Sirius, poking his head in, clearly having just woken up. All the adults turned to blink at the intruder, and he retreated slightly from the doorway, confused.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking over the scene critically.  

“Nothing’s wrong. Come on, sweetie, I’ll get you some water,” Polly said, heaving her pregnant belly up out of the chair. She hurried Sirius away from the doorway, and Harry watched them go with a deep pang of longing.

“Harry, love, I know why you could think that,” James said, looking and sounding more calm than both Lily and Severus. Lily threw him a dirty, disbelieving look, but James returned it with a calm, pleading one then turned back to Harry.

“I do, Harry, really,” James continued reasonably. “In the magical word, sometimes we see the magical where we should see the natural and mundane.”

“Head injuries are especially confusing. When you don’t remember things…” Lily trailed off as Harry shook his head, tears filling his eyes.

“This isn’t like that,” said Harry. “You died when I was 15 months old. Voldemort killed you. I grew up with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon in Little Whinging.” James was shaking his head negatively, but the calm demeanour was gone from his face. Snape’s face with milk-white.

“Harry, listen to me we didn’t die that night. Uncle Severus and Uncle Sirius, they got us out in time,” explained James.

“No,” Harry whispered. “They didn’t.” He turned his eyes to Snape.

“Professor Snape,” said Harry softly. “I met you for the first time four months ago at Hogwarts, and you hate me. You don’t have a wife. You don’t have a son. Professor, you have to know that these memories you have aren’t real.” Snape’s stern face softened to something a little more sympathetic, and he shook his head negatively.

“I’m calling a Healer,” said Lily abruptly, moving towards the fireplace. No one went to stop her, but Harry wished she stayed. He wanted to feel her arms around him one last time.

“I’ve known you almost your entire life, Harry,” Snape said softly. “I remember every birthday, every skinned knee, the first time you fell asleep in my arms. There is not a world where I could hate you.”

“Yes there is, Professor,” whispered Harry, blinking back unexpected tears as he looked seriously into Snape’s eyes. “In a world where Voldemort killed my Mom and Dad. In a world where they died that night, you do,” Snape opened his mouth then shut it again, looking at Harry oddly. But the expression was not the same sure, frustrated look James wore. There was something hesitant in it.

“He’ll be right over,” said Lily striding back to the kitchen. There were only a few moments left to spare. The real Snape had been sick for days potentially. The real world needed him. A family picture sat open on the table where Lily and Pauline had been looking through photos of past Christmases. In the picture, Lily and Severus were both holding babies, a two-year old Sirius ran around James legs as James tried to hold him still for the camera, while a four-year old Amelia sat still, smiling brightly. Harry was only six in the photo, holding Lily’s free hand and offering the camera a sheepish smile. It was the only Christmas picture Harry had. With reckless abandon, Harry ripped the photo out of the photo album.

“HARRY!” cried Lily. Harry cringed, he didn't want their last memories of him to be terrible, as fake as they were. James, Snape and Lily were all staring at him as though he was some bomb that was going to go off any moment. Spotting the knife beside the cheese plate, Harry took a deep breath and smiled at his parents.

“I love you, guys,” he whispered. This didn’t reassure them, and James  took a step towards him. “Sorry.” He grabbed the knife from the table and shoved it as far in his gut as he could.

“HARRY!” cried Lily as he fell hard on the kitchen floor. In a moment, his parents and Snape were both by his side, their faces all sheet-white with panic.

“Don’t pull it out!” yelled Snape as James’ hand instinctively went to the knife.

“Stay awake, sweetheart,” Lily said desperately, pulling Harry’s head on her lap. Even as she spoke she was starting to fade-out, like a drawing in the sand. James was stroking Harry’s hair and tears were welled up in his eyes, but Harry couldn’t feel the hand. Snape’s face, so wrought with concern it looked positively enraged faded faster too, and Harry suddenly wanted to take back his stupid decision.

Real-life was not better than this. Neither he nor Snape would find happiness in the cruel, lonely world Harry was sending them back to.

“No, don’t go,” whispered Harry. Lily cradled him closer and let out a little sob.

“We won’t go,” she promised, but as she said it, she was only an outline. The world was being replaced by a blinding white light. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to see his parents disappear.