St Mungo’s Hospital, 1976

The waiting room was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Two teenage boys were sitting, alone, opposite sides of the room. Though they were facing each other, neither would meet the other’s eyes.

James Potter was cradling a bandaged hand, though the wound hurt very little. It had been barely a scratch. But enough that the damage was done.

Sirius Black occupied the other seat, staring blankly at the wall, as if the events of the last couple of hours had not yet sunk in.

At long last, the door opened, and in walked Albus Dumbledore.

“Professor!” James leapt to his feet, relieved to be able to break the silence. “How’s Snape?”

“He’ll live,” Dumbledore replied. “Although he very nearly lost his leg. It was a close call.”

Sirius gulped as Dumbledore looked back and forth between them. “I do not think that here is the place to discuss what happened. I shall escort you both back to the school.”

“Yes, sir,” James said quietly. Sirius still hadn’t spoken.

As the boys trailed after Dumbledore in silence, James finally brought himself to look at his best friend. Sirius still looked more shocked than anything.

“What were you thinking?”

They all stopped dead. James had been unable to hold in the question any longer, and Sirius flinched as he glared at him. Dumbledore, for whatever reason, watched and did not interrupt.

“I—I—”

“You weren’t, were you? You’re just the biggest prat of all time! You realise Snape could have been killed? I could have been killed! And what about Remus? Bloody hell Sirius, he’ll be Muzzled for this!”

“James, I …”

“Save it,” James snapped, suddenly needing to get away from him. “You can’t say anything. I’m done with you.” He strode past a still-silent Dumbledore, heading towards the Floo, ignoring the Healers still bustling around them.

“JAMES!” But James had vanished. “I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered.

-

Hogwarts, 1981

Severus knocked on the Headmaster’s office door. “Enter,” came Albus’ voice. “Ah, Severus,” came next as Severus entered. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

Severus did not reply. His eyes had moved quickly past Albus’ weary face and onto the sleeping child in his arms.

“How are you holding up, Severus?” Albus asked in a softer voice, studying Severus’ face—as if he thought there would be any clue there.

“Fine,” Severus said stiffly, though he knew Albus knew better.

“Sit down, go on,” Albus urged him, pulling a chair out with his wand. “You shouldn’t wait for invitation you know, Severus.”

Brushing off the comment about his leg, Severus sat down and said, “Is that who I think it is?”

“If you mean Harry Potter, then yes.”

Severus gave a low growl in his throat. Deep down he knew it was unfair to blame Lily’s death on the child, when there were far more responsible people to share that blame. Peter Pettigrew leapt immediately to mind. The Potters’ Secret-Keeper had gone missing just after news of Voldemort’s disappearance had got out. Severus longed to be the one to find him. He wanted to tear the man’s throat out. Then there was Voldemort himself, who may or may not have disappeared for good. Potter, for coming between him and Lily, meaning Severus had not been there to protect her. Albus, for not insisting hard enough that he be the Secret-Keeper. And then Severus himself, for every mistake he made that led to that point.

But his hackles still raised at the sight of the brat.

“What’s he here for? I would have thought you would have found a home for him as quickly as possible. There are plenty of Death Eaters still out there.”

“I know, but there’s a problem.” As if he could tell they were talking about him, Harry stirred. Albus drew him closer, rocking him slightly, and murmured some nonsense words, and after a moment Harry went still again.

“From the circumstances of Lily’s death,” Albus continued in a quieter voice, “I think I can raise wards around her sister’s home that would keep out any unwanted Dark forces.”

Severus sniffed. He didn’t think much of Petunia Evans. Granted, the two had only met once, but the girl—which she had been at the time—had been clouded by jealousy over Lily’s abilities. The last time Severus and Lily had been on speaking terms, Lily had told him Petunia seemed to be accepting their differences and growing up. The woman was probably by now ready to spoil the brat rotten.

“So what’s the problem?”

“I would have thought you would have seen it. Harry may or may not have inherited James’ lycanthropy.”

Severus’ hackles raised further. After they had both been bitten, James had attempted—for a while at least—to befriend Severus, probably wanting another werewolf buddy since Lupin had been Muzzled. But Severus was not feeling in the least bit forgiving, doubly so since, as if to pour salt in the already agonising wound, James had started dating Lily. Eventually James had given up, and Severus had ended up completely surrounded by Death Eaters.

“Obviously, if he has, then Muggle guardians are really not very practical. And we won’t know for another couple of years.”

“Well, you’ve got till his third birthday to figure it out.” Severus shrugged. “That’s plenty of time.”

“I can’t just place him in a home and then move him after two years, Severus! You wouldn’t like it much, would you? And his life has been disrupted too much already. Harry’s future has to be decided now.”

“And I suppose you want my advice, my being a werewolf and everything,” Severus said drily.

“Actually Severus, I was hoping the help you could offer would be of a more practical nature.”

Severus went very still, suddenly suspecting something awful. Albus couldn’t be suggesting what he thought he was, could he? “Oh?”

“I wouldn’t ask this of you, Severus, but I honestly don’t know who else to ask. As it stands, I’ve had a flock of owls from wizards all over the world offering to take him in, but firstly, he needs to be safe, and secondly, he needs to be with someone who can understand his needs—not just understand them either, but empathise, help him live with them. You are the only werewolf I know that I can trust with him.”

Severus pushed his chair backwards sharply. “Over my dead body.”

“Severus!”

“There is nothing you can say, Albus, which would make me consider taking in Potter’s son.”

“Nothing?” Albus’ eyes narrowed. “What do you think Lily would have wanted you to do?”

A dead silence fell in the office. Severus glared more fiercely than he had ever glared at Albus before.

“That was low, Albus,” he growled. He stood up sharply before Albus could say anything else. “If it weren’t for that boy, Lily would still be alive. He’s your problem. I have nothing more to say.”

And ignoring Albus’ protests, he strode from the room.

-

Albus finished speaking and looked from Petunia Dursley to her husband and back again. Both were sitting very still, pale and shocked. Well, it was a rather unpleasant experience, being told a family member was dead—in this case, members—even if they hadn’t been very close. It had to be even more so to be asked, before having had time to process, to raise a child with very unusual needs.

“Why us?” Vernon finally spoke. “Why not one of your lot? They’d be better, surely.”

Albus frowned slightly at the words your lot, but made no comment. “Because, as I have already explained, Harry can only truly be safe with a blood relative. I have told you everything you need to know; provided you with written instructions, a lunar chart, a year’s supply of Wolfsbane Potion and a safe, soundproofed cellar for Harry to change in; and told you how you can contact me if you require assistance. There is no chance of Harry transforming until he turns three years old, which is plenty of time for you to familiarise yourselves with it all. Do you have any further questions?”

The Dursleys looked at each other. “What about Dudley?” Petunia asked in a faint voice.

“Your son? What about him?”

“Is he—safe?”

“As long as Harry is in the closed cellar during the full moon, and Dudley is not, he is in no danger.”

“But what if he bites him?” Vernon said. “Children do bite each other.”

“Harry’s bite would only be infectious in his wolf form, and then only to other wizards,” Albus assured them. He had checked beforehand that Dudley Dursley was unquestionably a Muggle. “Any more questions?”

The room stayed silent.

“Well then,” Albus said reluctantly, “I think that is my cue to leave.” He looked down at his young charge. Harry, who had been sitting on Albus’ lap playing with his beard, looked up at him innocently, and Albus swallowed. He really didn’t want to do this. But he was left with no choice.

I’m sorry, my boy, he said silently. I wish there was another way.

Albus took a firm hold of Harry and stood up, before gently depositing him on Petunia’s lap. She grasped him rather awkwardly, and Harry fidgeted, his face screwing up. He looked up at Albus, and Albus quickly looked away. He knew it would take one glimpse of brimming green eyes and he wouldn’t be able to walk out of that door empty-handed. And then where would he be?

Still nobody spoke, but Vernon jumped up and showed Albus out. There were no goodbyes. As Albus walked back down the path, he heard a child crying for his bearded playmate.

Hogwarts, 1984

Severus jerked awake with a start.

It took him a few minutes to calm down and realise that it had just been a nightmare. He rubbed his neck absently, ignoring the usual morning’s stabbing pains in his knee.

Not once, since the Wolfsbane Potion had been discovered, had Severus transformed without it. But before that, he had had to endure the horror of becoming a wolf in mind as well as body, and it was an experience he never wished to repeat. Unfortunately, it seemed to be haunting him.

It wasn’t just the wild bloodlust either. In the nightmares, Severus felt constricted, like something was restraining him; trapped and helpless. There was also a voice, but he couldn’t quite make out whose or what it was trying to tell him.

Severus got shakily out of bed, grasped his walking stick and hobbled into the kitchen for a glass of water. The nightmares had been coming for weeks now—or was it months? He had lost track—but every one still left him shaken.

-

“You look terrible.”

Severus growled, but quietly. His relationship with Albus had been tense ever since he had refused to take in the Potter boy, but Albus at least was trying to bring it back to a more comfortable standpoint. That seemed to include making personal observations.

“So would you if you’d had my nights,” Severus grumbled. “Where are those papers then?”

“Here.” Albus pulled a sheaf of past exam papers from his desk and passed them to Severus. “What do you mean, your nights? The full moon was over a week ago.”

“Oh really? I didn’t know.”

Albus sighed. “Please, Severus, not the sarcasm. It’s too early in the morning.”

A bell rang above Albus’ fireplace, and he flicked his wand. The fire turned green and out stepped Arabella Figg.

“Ah, Arabella,” Albus said, sounding cheerful although Severus noticed the twinkle suddenly left his eyes. “It’s been a while. How are things?”

Severus resisted the urge to snort, knowing perfectly well that by ‘things’, Albus meant ‘Harry Potter’.

“Well,” Mrs Figg said, sounding awkward, “I’m not sure. That’s why I’ve come to you. I’ve looked into it as best I can, but any more and the family will suspect something.”

Albus gestured for her to sit down, now looking worried. Severus hesitated, and then sat down as well, his curiosity piqued. The other two ignored him.

“I haven’t seen Harry in some time,” Mrs Figg said. “He never played outside much, I thought he just avoided his cousin because they don’t get on very well. His aunt and uncle had me sit him a few times when they went out, and he’s a very shy boy, wouldn’t really talk to me. But they haven’t had me sit him in months, and I haven’t seen him out of the house at all in that time. In fact I know I’ve seen all three of his relatives get in the car and he was nowhere to be seen.”

“Maybe they got another sitter,” Severus suggested, thinking smugly that James Potter would be turning in his grave to know his son had turned out shy.

“I don’t think so. I asked why Harry is never seen outside anymore, and I know some of the other neighbours have asked in curiosity. Mrs Dursley said something about him having very bad hayfever and not liking outdoors. But that’s no reason to leave a three-year-old home alone. Something’s up, I’m sure of it.”

“Arabella,” Albus said seriously, “think back. When was the last time you saw Harry out of doors?”

“I don’t know. Months ago. Before his third birthday, definitely.”

That can’t be a coincidence, Severus thought. No sooner had the thought come into his head, something else did.

Help him.

“What—?” Severus nearly jumped out of his skin. Albus and Mrs Figg looked round at him.

“Severus, are you all right?”

“I thought I heard—didn’t you hear …?”

From the way they were looking at him, they hadn’t. Severus cleared his throat and tried to regain some composure. “Sorry. Carry on.”

The voice had come and gone too quickly for him to figure out whose it was, but he was certain of one thing: it was the same voice from his dream. Was he going mad, or was there something actually trying to communicate with him?

He considered the words. Help him. Who? The Potter boy?

Something Mrs Figg said jerked him out of his thoughts. “Hold on, what was that you said?”

“I said, I’ve started to wonder if there was something wrong even before then. He always seemed all right, a very polite young man, much better behaved than that son of theirs—but he was never dressed properly, too small for his age, didn’t seem to have any toys of his own … and there was something funny about his name, he would never answer when I called him by name. It was difficult to get his attention.”

A sort of sick feeling came to Severus’ stomach as Albus asked Mrs Figg why she hadn’t related these details to him before.

“Well there could be lots of reasons why he’s smaller than normal, and the rest he always had an excuse for,” Mrs Figg said, tears welling in her eyes. “It’s only now he’s disappeared from view I’ve been putting it all together and wondering what life inside that house is really like …”

Severus stood up abruptly. “I’ll find out.”

They both looked up at him, neither looking more surprised than Albus. “You, Severus?” He could hear the silent addition: Even though he’s ‘my problem’?

“Yes,” Severus said shortly. He wasn’t about to go into his reasons, especially not with Mrs Figg there, but something about what she had said had rung warning bells very loudly in his head. Coupled with the voice and nightmares that could be either his conscience trying to tell him something, or …

Well, he wasn’t sure now was the time to theorise, but he wasn’t about to ignore the signs when a child—no matter whose he was—was at stake.

-

Severus walked purposefully along the pavement, looking for Number Four. The road was all hideously neat; he was all for organised, he hated messes; but the inhabitants of this area had to all be obsessive-compulsive, the way there was not a single blade of grass out of place. It was so unnatural.

Ah, Number Four. He rapped on the door with his walking stick and waited.

After a moment, the door was opened by a bony blonde woman. She had a very rotund boy at her feet, who was peering curiously at Severus through piggy little eyes.

“Well, that’s not Harry Potter,” Severus said with absolute certainty, turning his eyes back to Petunia.

She had paled at his words. “Wh-who are you? What do you want?”

“I’m not surprised you don’t recognise me, Petunia. It has been a few years.”

She frowned, and after a moment, paled dramatically. “You!”

“Yes, me,” Severus said coldly. “As for why I am here, I heard on the grapevine that your nephew is suffering from severe hayfever.”

“Er … yes,” Petunia said, edging backwards slightly.

“I brought something that should clear that right up.” Severus rummaged in his Muggle coat and brought out a potion vial. “One capful each day and he’ll be back to playing in the garden like every other child.”

Petunia swallowed. Severus didn’t miss her eyes flickering to a closed door in the hall, and back again.

“You’re ugly,” the little boy at Petunia’s feet said, still staring at Snape. “Girly hair.”

To Severus’ disgust, Petunia gave a nervous half-laugh. “Oh, now, Diddykins! That’s not a very nice thing to say!”

‘Diddykins’ stuck his tongue out, clearly indicating that he didn’t care. Severus scowled at the boy, half a mind to take him back to Hogwarts with him and donate him to the Quidditch department for use as a rather large Quaffle.

“You, boy, need to learn to respect your elders,” he snarled. “Think yourself lucky you’re a Muggle and will never have to suffer one of my detentions.”

Diddykins blew a raspberry. Severus chose to ignore the boy and turned back to the reason he had come. “So, where is your nephew?”

Again, Petunia’s eyes flickered to the door. “Er, still in bed. I’ll give him that.” She held out her hand, even as she did so starting to close the door on Severus.

He put his stick in the way, ignoring Petunia’s protests, and stepped inside the house completely. “No, I wish to speak to him in person. Where is his bedroom?”

Petunia gulped, and Severus narrowed her eyes at her.

“As you no doubt recall Petunia, I am very stubborn and can perform some rather nasty spells. I suggest you tell me where he is right now, unless you want the truth forced from your lips.”

She pursed her lips and said nothing. “Right,” Severus said, but before he could turn her into any sort of farm animal, he had a better idea, and pointed his wand at her son.

“NO!” Petunia leapt forwards. “I’ll tell—”

“Too late,” Severus said in satisfaction. Diddykins Dursley was now a very large beach ball. Petunia opened her mouth to scream, and he cast a quick silencing charm.

Severus flicked his wand, and the ball bounced around the hall. Severus had to admit, this was rather fun. “So. Where is your nephew? Don’t scream and I’ll turn your son back.” He removed the silencing charm.

“In the cellar, in the cellar!” Petunia sobbed. “Please, please turn Dudley back!”

“The cellar?” Severus said, lowering his wand and Dudley the ball fell to the floor, and a moment later was a child again, eagle-spread on the hall floor. Petunia ran over to him, but Severus hadn’t finished. “Why on earth is he in the cellar? I thought Albus built that for when he transformed?”

“Y-yes,” Petunia stammered.

“Well the full moon was ten days ago! What’s he doing down there now?” Severus snarled. Petunia whimpered and clutched her large son to her bosom, he desperately trying to prise her off him.

Severus flicked his wand at the cellar door, undoing the locks, and the door flew open. Now ignoring the Dursleys, he descended the steps, the sick feeling in his gut reaching intolerable proportions.

Until he saw the sight below, and was sure that he would actually be sick.

Curled up in the centre of the cellar, lay Harry Potter.

He looked asleep. His bed was made up of the hard floor and a single, holey and very dirty blanket, the corner of which he had cuddled to his face. There was a collar around his neck, which chained him to a ring in the middle of the floor. He was dressed in clothes so thin and raggedy Severus couldn’t even tell what they were supposed to be.

Severus looked around the rest of the cellar. Almost empty. There were two dog bowls on the floor. One held a little water and the other had been knocked upside-down, surrounded by a dark, sticky puddle that smelled of Wolfsbane Potion. On the floor next to them was what remained of Harry’s last meal: a few mouldy bread crumbs. A bucket stood in one corner, but by the looks of things, the chain wasn’t long enough for Harry to reach it properly.

His hackles rose even further. How dare they! How could anyone treat a child this way? Severus was no stranger to abuse, but this was sicker than anything he had ever endured.

Harry stirred slightly, and Severus’ attention snapped back to him. All he could think about now was the best way to get him out of here. He started making his way down the steps, trying not to breathe in the putrid mixture of potion, sweat and human waste. Harry opened his eyes, and looked up at him.

Upon seeing Severus, Harry jumped in surprise, letting out a small cry, and started backing away rapidly until the chain was pulled tort. Severus stopped, not wanting him to hurt himself. “Harry?”

He didn’t get any response, and he remembered what Mrs Figg had said about Harry not responding to his name. He wondered if the boy actually knew it was his name. Now he’d seen what the Dursleys were capable of, nothing would surprise him.

“Sshh, it’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you,” Severus said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. He wasn’t really an expert on young children, especially traumatised ones, and Harry just continued watching him warily.

Perhaps if he sat on the floor—Severus tried not to wrinkle his nose at the thought—it might help; as it was, he towered over the child. He lowered himself as carefully as he could, careful not to jar his knee.

Right. First things first. “Harry,” Severus said gently, “I’m going to take your collar off, all right? Don’t be startled.” He raised his wand, and the collar slowly undid itself and fell to the floor.

Harry stared at it in utter astonishment, and he looked as if he were thinking hard. Finally he slowly crawled nearer. Severus sat very still, not daring even to breathe for fear of scaring him into the corner. He could now see the marks where the collar had been—Harry’s neck was bruised and rubbed raw, in some places with dried blood. Severus realised why. The collar had looked close-fitting as a boy, but when he transformed, and as such grew bigger, it must have half-strangled him.

Coming right up to him, Harry sniffed him, and said questioningly, “Daddy?”

Severus froze. Werewolves had a very strong memory for smells, and he knew he and James shared a scent from being bitten by the same wolf, but he hadn’t expected this.

“Sorry,” he managed to get out. “I’m not Daddy, Harry.”

Harry’s face crumpled in disappointment, but he didn’t back away. Severus spoke again, even more gently. “Harry, I’m going to take you away, somewhere you can be properly looked after. You can have nice clothes, and food, and a proper bed. Would you like that?”

Hope appeared in Harry’s eyes. The effect was heartrending. Severus smiled as Harry nodded eagerly.

“All right then.” Severus opened his arms. “Would you like me to carry you?”

Harry hesitated, but climbed into them. Severus realised with disgust that the blanket and Harry’s clothes were heavily soiled. Sweet Merlin, the people had him living in his own excrement—it was a miracle he hadn’t died of some infection by now.

Despite this, he held the boy firmly to him and slowly stood up. “Here we go, then.”

Harry wriggled, letting out a stifled cry. Severus looked at him. “What is it?”

The little boy pointed at the blanket, which had dropped to the floor. Severus curled his lip, but Harry kept pointing and making the noise, so he awkwardly knelt down and picked it up by a corner, planning on giving it a good thorough wash before he let Harry put it anywhere near his face again.

It was very awkward getting back up the cellar steps with Harry in his arms; Severus needed both arms to carry him and a third to use his walking stick. In the end he had to levitate Harry, who seemed to like it—his eyes grew even brighter and he rolled over in the air, giving a small giggle.

Petunia and Dudley seemed to have disappeared. The front door was still open. Severus thought this was probably a good thing. After seeing what he’d seen, he couldn’t trust himself not to cast one of the nasty curses he had mentioned earlier, and if Harry didn’t have to see his relatives again, so much the better. He’d let Albus find and deal with them.

Now he was up the stairs, Severus ended the levitation spell and managed to get Harry into a position that meant he could still use his stick, and left the house, heading towards Mrs Figg’s.

The moment the morning sun hit Harrys’s face, he cried out and buried his face in Severus’ shoulder. Severus rubbed his back gently, trying to think how to help—obviously being kept in a dark cellar for months on end would make him sensitive to the light; he was stupid not to have predicted that. Harry kept his face hidden all the time they were outside, and once Mrs Figg had let them in, Severus drew the blinds. “All right Harry, you can look now.” To Mrs Figg he said, “Call Albus, and Minerva McGonagall, and run a bath.”

Harry didn’t seem to like Mrs Figg, nor did he want to be put down, clinging to Severus like a lifeline. So Severus carried him up to the bathroom and stood holding him while Mrs Figg ran the bath.

“I’ll get him some decent clothes, as well,” Mrs Figg said before she left them to it. “And some nappies, I suppose.”

“Some shampoo would be good, too,” Severus said, noting how matted Harry’s hair was. “Child-friendly. And I think he’s going to need a lot of it.”

He managed to coax Harry into letting go so he could undress him for the bath. A shiver ran down Severus’ spine as his thin little body was uncovered. He could see every one of Harry’s ribs, and everywhere he looked there were bruises, and scars.

Severus recognised the scars. He had a few of them himself. They were the signs of an isolated werewolf—self-inflicted bites and scratches. Nothing that would happen under the potion’s effects.

He might have known, if they couldn’t even give him a decent place to sleep, they wouldn’t be making sure he took his potion. Severus wondered if he had ever had it. The taste was foul; maybe they had just left it for him every month and he, after discovering how horrid it was, ignored it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as the first pang of guilt descended. No doubt the first of many. If he had just said yes to Albus in the first place, the poor boy need never have gone through this.

Harry said nothing, not knowing what Severus was talking about. Severus chose not to enlighten him, and just lowered him gently into the warm bath and picked up the soap.

“Might need a few bars,” he muttered as he began to scrub Harry free of the grime, as gently as he could.

“Severus?” Albus’ voice was a welcome relief to the dark, self-blame thoughts starting to run around his head.

“Up here,” Severus called. “In the bathroom.”

After a minute, there was a knock on the door. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

The door opened, and Albus looked in. He opened his mouth to say something, spotted Harry, and lost whatever it was, just standing in shock. Severus decided to ignore Albus while he was speechless, and concentrate on the washing.

“Arms up, Harry,” he instructed, and the little boy obeyed, wriggling when Severus did his armpits.

With the exception of the ‘Daddy’, Harry had yet to actually speak. Severus was becoming quite worried.

“What … on … earth …? Severus, what happened to his neck?”

“I suggest you go and look in the cellar,” Severus said shortly. “That will tell you all you need to know.”

“I … I will.” Albus swallowed. “Where’s Arabella?”

“Getting him some decent clothes. And you don’t have to say it.”

“Say what?”

“That all of this could have been avoided had I just done as you asked in the first place. I’m thinking it already, you don’t have to point it out. Harry, you can put your arms down now.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Albus said, and left the bathroom without another word.

Mrs Figg returned more or less the same moment as Minerva arrived. Severus started attacking Harry’s rat’s nest of hair with the large bottle of shampoo, whilst explaining the situation to Minerva. She looked nothing short of horrified. Severus decided Harry was as clean as he could get him in one bath, dried him off and plonked him on the potty Mrs Figg had also bought, just in time.

“There,” he said to Harry once he was finished. “That must be much better than using your clothes, isn’t it?”

Harry just looked at him, and down at the potty, as if trying to figure it out. Severus sighed, and opened up the pack of nappies. “Minerva, can you look him over? He needs a full medical examination.”

“Of course.”

Harry was quite wary of Minerva, needing some encouragement before he would sit still and let her examine him. Severus managed to get him to sit on his lap, and Harry kept a tight grip on his clothes—which had undergone several good cleaning charms—while Minerva displayed her little-seen Healing skills.

“He’s in no immediate danger,” she said at last, and Severus relaxed slightly. “Those bruises I think were from the last full moon—they must have been quite bad, but they’re nearly gone now, no lasting damage. His neck I’m more worried about. A healing salve should help, though I suspect there may be scarring. Just be careful not to open up any of the grazes when you apply it. As for the malnourishment—I need hardly say it’s serious, but rectifiable. I’d start him off on pureed foods—nothing too rich—and see how you go. He’s far too small for a three, going on four-year-old, but with the right diet we should be able to correct that.”

Severus nodded, making a mental note. Minerva met his eyes for the first time in a few minutes. “Er, why am I telling you this?”

“Because,” Severus said, looking down at his young charge, “I will be looking after him from now on.”

Minerva’s eyebrows disappeared under her hat. “Really? Does Albus know about this?”

“It was his suggestion in the first place.” Severus stopped abruptly, sensing that anything else that came out of his mouth would sound self-deprecating and he didn’t want the questions that would follow.

“Oh,” Minerva said simply.

Silence fell, and Severus took the opportunity to reach for Harry’s new clothes and put them on him. They were ordinary Muggle clothes, a white top and blue trousers in soft cotton. The packaging read 2 years, but they fit Harry just about right, which was disturbing.

Harry fidgeted a little while Severus was dressing him, but otherwise didn’t complain. Severus almost wished he would—the boy seemed used to just accepting things that were done to him, and he still hadn’t spoken a word since ‘Daddy’.

The front door closing told them that Albus was back. Severus dared meet his eyes as he entered the room, but not to his surprise, Albus avoided looking at either of them and headed straight for Mrs Figg’s bathroom, looking a sickly white.

Harry had cringed back again at the Headmaster’s presence. So far Severus seemed to be the only adult he felt safe with—perhaps because Severus reminded him of ‘Daddy’, or just because the two were both werewolves. Either way, a bond had formed very quickly, which was one blessing at least. Severus didn’t like to think how difficult it might have been, to take in a child who was afraid of him. Still, he was going to have to help get Harry over his fear of everyone else, or he would end up with one neurotic child on his hands.

Albus reappeared from Mrs Figg’s bathroom, still pale but a little less so. Severus didn’t know what Albus had been doing—vomiting, throwing curses at the wall, screaming blue murder, all sprang to mind; maybe all of the above—but he didn’t ask.

Harry squirmed slightly, and Albus hung back, watching the boy sadly.

“It’s all right, Harry,” Severus murmured in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “It’s only Albus. He’s not going to hurt you.”

Harry whimpered and buried his face in Severus’ sleeve.

“Maybe we should give you both some space,” Minerva said, drawing back as well. “We’re probably crowding the poor boy.”

Severus nodded glumly. Getting Harry over his fears could wait until the child adjusted to being out of the cellar. One step at a time.

“Maybe I should get him home,” he said. “He’s confused enough. Better he adjusts there, than gets moved when he’s just starting to get used to this place.”

Albus nodded, some vague twinkle coming back into his eyes at Severus’ mention of ‘home’. “I agree, that is probably for the best. And don’t worry my boy, I will be more than happy to cover your classes for the time being.”

The thought of missing work hadn’t even occurred to Severus at this point, but once Albus raised the subject, he knew it would be necessary. At least while Harry still clung to him like a limpet. He nodded. “Thank you, Albus. All my notes are in my desk.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Slowly, Severus stood up with Harry. Minerva presented him with a written guide to seeing to Harry’s medical needs. Mrs Figg collected together the things she had bought for Harry, refused Severus’ offer to pay her for them, and quizzed him on how he was planning on travelling home.

Severus looked down at the boy in his arms. The thought had not occurred to him. Severus knew magical transport would not be good for Harry in this state. On the other hand, he did not have a car, and Muggle public transport meant being around a lot of people, which wouldn’t suit Harry either.

Albus, however, interrupted his train of thought. “No trouble there, Severus. The Dursleys—” his eyes hardened momentarily “—have left their house but their car is still in the drive. I know a nifty little spell to get it started. After what they … it’s the least they can do.”

“Er, isn’t it illegal to steal a Muggle car?” Minerva pointed out. “No matter how much they deserve it, and worse.”

“Oh, this isn’t stealing. This is borrowing,” Albus said, the twinkle now more prominent. “I can return it once Harry is safely at Severus’. With maybe a few … alterations.”

The twinkle in his eyes looked positively dangerous. Minerva narrowed hers. “Albus. You’re not thinking of enchanting—”

“Good heavens, no! I don’t want to be hauled into the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.”

“Like that would ever happen,” Severus muttered.

“No, I’m talking non-magical alterations. Perhaps a broken light and a couple of flat tyres. Or maybe something a bit more … drastic.”

“Well for Merlin’s sake don’t let anyone see you wrapping their car around a lamp-post or anything,” Minerva said wearily. Severus, amused as he was by the discussion, decided now was the time to leave.

“Car seat,” Mrs Figg said suddenly. They all looked at her.

“Sorry?” Severus said.

“He’ll need a car seat. I didn’t think to get one.”

“Oh, no matter,” Albus said. “I expect they’ll have one in there.”

Severus thought of the beach ball named Dudley Dursley, and figured any car seat for him would positively dwarf Harry. Then again, he supposed they could always shrink it. And maybe even leave it that way.

He and Albus left Mrs Figg’s, walking a reasonable distance from each other so as to keep Harry, who was again sheltering his eyes in Severus’ clothes, happy. They were almost at Number Four when the Dursleys rounded the corner.

“Albus!” Severus hissed, trying to get his attention without scaring his charge. “They’re back!”

After one glimpse of the family that had tortured their nephew, Albus’ face hardened, and for a split second Severus was sure he was going to curse them, but instead he broke into a run, heading for the car and calling for Severus to follow suit.

Severus ran as best he could, ignoring the pain in his leg. Harry cried out as he was jolted up and down, but it was nothing compared to Vernon Dursley’s shouts of rage as he realised what they were doing.

“HOW DARE YOU! YOU FREAKS, GET AWAY FROM MY—”

Harry started sobbing, clinging to Severus harder as he presumably recognised his uncle’s voice. Severus placed him clumsily in the massive car seat and fastened the straps, pulling them tort before pulling his wand on Vernon, who had almost reached them.

He didn’t care he was in the middle of a street in bright daylight and several nosy neighbours were watching. Vernon paled as he came eye-to-eye with Severus’ wand, and Petunia screamed.

“Think yourself lucky, Dursley, that I have a great deal of self-control,” Severus spat. “Now get out of the way or you will be a pancake with a moustache.”

Vernon’s self-preservation was obviously stronger than his rage, for he leapt out of the path of the car, which Albus had started up. Severus climbed in beside Harry and had barely shut the door, let alone fastened his belt, when Albus pressed hard on the accelerator, nearly running over the Dursleys’ feet, and straight into the fence opposite.

“Sorry!” Severus called out of the window to the Muggles whose garden they were destroying. “Send the bill to Number Four!”

He looked back at Harry, unsettled to find the boy was still crying, but almost silently. Severus couldn’t really cuddle him in the car, especially not with Albus’ driving—had he ever taken a class? Severus wondered—but he gently wiped Harry’s tears with a handkerchief, took off his jumper and let Harry cling onto that in place of the disgusting blanket. At least the car windows were tinted, so Harry’s light aversion wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

“You couldn’t go a bit slower, could you, Albus?”

They were out of Little Winging now, and Albus obliged, slowing down to a more reasonable speed and glancing in the back mirror. “How is he?”

Harry was still fidgeting in the oversized car seat, tears running down his face, which was looking balefully up at Severus. Severus suddenly realised what the problem was.

“Albus, do you know any sort of cushioning charm? I think the straps might be a bad idea, he probably thinks he’s being restrained again.”

“I do.” After a moment checking his mirrors, Albus pointed his wand in the back and said a spell. “You can take him on your lap now, it’s safe.” After a moment he said another spell. “Now no Muggle police will be able to see you’re not wearing seat belts.”

Severus immediately unfastened Harry, who clung to him, still sobbing softly, and gently lifted him into his arms. “There, there,” he murmured. “I’m sorry about that, Harry. But everything’s going to be better now, okay? I promise.”

Harry calmed down gradually, though he continued to sniffle quietly as Severus held him, marvelling at how his life had changed so drastically so suddenly. Yesterday his life had been nothing but potions, essay marking, the full moon and wondering how long it would be before his Dark Mark started burning again. Now …

Now, he was suddenly a parent. He hadn’t even made the conscious decision, just became aware of the fact that it was happening, or had happened already. So far he had experienced anger, compassion, and a very large amount of guilt, since he had first stepped over the Dursleys’ threshold. The guilt, he knew, wouldn’t go away. But he had to keep it under control, if he was going to correct his latest mistake.

He had almost forgotten the dreams that had been plaguing him, and the voice in the office, until it occurred again. The car was silent apart from Harry’s sniffling, and Severus heard it loud and clear in his mind. He also knew, now, who it belonged to.

Thank you, Severus.

Severus closed his eyes, and allowed a single tear to run down his cheek.

Harry slept for most of the journey, curled up on Severus’ lap. He and Albus were quiet, not wanting to disturb him. Goodness knows how easily he could have slept, or not rather, in the conditions he had been found in.

Severus lived in Bath, which was far away enough to—with the help of a three-car pile-up on the A322—involve sitting in a car in the bright, late May sun for nearly four hours. All the windows had been wound down and having a hot little body permanently attached to him was not helping Severus keep cool.

“I think we should make a stop,” Albus said, breaking the silence that had stretched since Harry had fallen asleep around Leatherhead.

Severus nodded, hoping he could stretch his legs. His right one ached twice as much as usual since the rush to the car. “Think I could do with some water, Albus.”

“Certainly.” Albus turned off towards a sign that said Motorway Services. “Perhaps we should wake Harry, give him some as well. He doesn’t need to be dehydrated on top of everything else.”

“Good point. I’ll wake him.”

“Don’t do it yet,” Albus said quickly. “Wait till we stop, no sense depriving him of more sleep than necessary.”

Silence fell again as Albus followed the signs to the Services. After a few minutes, he looked into the mirror worriedly.

“Severus, what’s that behind us?”

Severus turned round and saw a car following them with blue flashing lights. “Looks like the police. I think they want us to stop.”

Albus muttered a curse as he pulled up on the side of the road, and the police car stopped behind them.

“Easy, Albus,” Severus said in amusement. “I’ve only just become Harry’s guardian and I’m already rebuking you for teaching him bad language.”

“He’s not even awake,” Albus said, peering out of the window as two police officers approached.

“Can I see your licence, please sir?” The older of the pair said, doing a double-take when he saw Albus at the wheel.

“Certainly, officer,” Albus said politely, while Severus sat tight and hoped his employer knew what he was doing. Albus certainly showed the police something, though whether it was a genuine licence or not Severus didn’t know. He had decided early on into the journey that he didn’t want to know if Albus was properly qualified to drive the car or not.

“Is this your car, Mr Dumbledore?”

“No, I’m borrowing it,” Albus said cheerfully. Severus inwardly groaned; he could see where this was going.

“I see. I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the car, sir.” The cop glanced in the back. “You too,” he directed at Severus.

“The last time I checked,” Severus said as he attempted to get out of the car without waking his charge, “it was not illegal to drive someone else’s car.”

“It is if the vehicle in question has been reported stolen, sir,” said the office gravely, shooting Severus a dark look. “I’m going to need your name too.”

“Severus Snape,” Severus growled, glancing at Albus. He couldn’t believe the Dursleys had had the nerve to call the police, knowing it was wizards who had stolen the car. Albus was still smiling, so Severus hoped he had a plan.

“And this little one?”

Unconsciously, Severus’ arms tightened around Harry. “Why? He’s hardly old enough to arrest for car theft, is he?”

“Severus,” Albus said in a warning tone.

“The car was reported stolen at the same time as the kidnapping of one Harry Potter.”

Those Dursleys were so stupid. Severus looked to Albus for guidance. Albus sighed.

“Gentlemen, I understand your concern, but I am afraid that you are wasting your time here. Harry’s guardianship is transferring to another family, that is all, and the car is only borrowed to aid the transfer and will be returned afterwards. This has all been a huge misunderstanding. I’m sure if you—or anyone—were to talk to the Dursleys again, you would find that they will corroborate this.”

Severus tried very hard not to raise his eyebrow at Albus. Surely they weren’t going to fall for it. But to his surprise, the officers’ eyes glazed over, and they nodded.

“Of course … sorry to bother you, sir.” The one who had been writing in the notebook ripped out the last page and tore it into pieces.

“Oh, that’s quite all right,” Albus said with the air of one who had merely been interrupted at dinner, as opposed to accused of kidnapping and theft. “You’re just doing your jobs; I understand. And I must say I have rarely come across such dedicated, professional members of law enforcement as you.”

Don’t push it Albus, Severus thought. But the police officers looked very pleased.

“You’re free to go,” the elder one said, and beckoned the younger back to their car. “So sorry, again, gentleman. Have a good day.”

Severus let out a long breath as they drove off. “How did you do that? I didn’t even see your wand!”

“Well of course not,” Albus said with a chuckle. “It’s called wandless magic for a reason. No, I used a mixture of a Memory Charm and Legilimency.”

“Why?” Severus had never considered mixing the two before.

“Well, for a start, it draws less attention than pointing a stick at someone,” Albus said with a chuckle. “Secondly, Memory Charms can be messy. You never know what you might be erasing along with what you want to remove—important appointments, precious memories. Using Legilimency as well means I can pinpoint exactly what I want to remove and nothing else; it’s also more exact to alter memories that way, or create new ones. Though I have never tried on a wizard before. Muggles’ minds are more … impressionable, as you know.” Albus turned back to the car, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief, and Severus realised he suddenly looked exhausted.

“It took a lot out of you,” he stated. Albus only nodded.

“What was with the flattery?”

“Ah, don’t underestimate the power of flattery,” Albus said with a weak smile. “In this case, it helped their minds accept the information I was inputting.”

“But if the police go back to the Dursleys—”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll call Minerva when we’re at the Services, get her to do something about it.”

Knowing Minerva’s temper, Severus wondered what she would ‘do about it’, were she to come face-to-face with Vernon and Petunia Dursley. However, he didn’t bother to point this out. Should she choose to Transfigure them into mice and eat them, they had only themselves to blame. He certainly wasn’t going to shed any tears over them.

Harry stirred, his hands gripping Severus tighter. “I think it’s time we moved on,” Severus said pointedly.

“You’re absolutely right.”

They both climbed back into the car, and came to a stop in the car park only a few minutes later. By now Harry was awake and looking curiously around him, as if he couldn’t quite remember how he had ended up where he was, and would still not let go of Severus—not that the man was going to make him.

“Right.” Albus switched off the engine and turned around in his seat. Harry didn’t shrink back this time. “Are you hungry, Severus?”

“No, but Harry might be.”

“How about I get some food, and water for all of us, and make the call to Minerva—then I can watch Harry while you do anything you need to.”

Severus looked down at Harry, to find he was watching Albus carefully. Perhaps it was the nap in Severus’ arms that had helped, as Harry didn’t look half as nervous of Albus as he had done before. “That might work. All right, then.”

“Good. Back in a bit.” Albus smiled warmly at Harry, who just stared back, and left the car.

The older wizard had already disappeared among the throng of people swarming in and out of the building when a very distinct scent caught Severus’ nose, and he looked down at Harry quickly. Harry met his eyes, and the green ones filled with tears.

“Shh, Harry, it’s all right,” Severus said soothingly. Harry whimpered, and pressed a hand over his mouth. “It’s not your fault, I doubt you were ever properly toilet-trained, were you?” Thank goodness for nappies, he thought, as a second smell added to the first. Severus tried very hard not to wrinkle his nose.

The first tear leaked and Severus gently wiped it away. “Come on, Harry, let’s get you cleaned up.” So much for keeping Harry away from crowds for the time being, but having never changed a nappy in his life, Severus thought he’d much rather try it for the first time amongst proper facilities rather than on the back seat of a car.

He scribbled a note to Albus in case the man came back while they were gone, found the changing bag and shouldered it before getting out of the car with Harry.

At once, Harry buried his face in Severus’ shoulder, making indistinct noises of protest. “I’m sorry,” Severus murmured, “but we can’t leave that mucky thing on you, Harry. It’s all right, I’m here. Shhh.” He closed the car door and walked towards the entrance, trying to keep Harry’s face at least in the shade, which was difficult. Harry whimpered more when they stepped inside the busy building.

Muggles dressed for business, Muggles dressed for holiday, all bustled round them; it could have been worse, Severus thought, but not much. The slot machines made as much of a racket as the people, and the coffee machine in the café wasn’t helping either. Harry was definitely crying properly now, although he was very quiet about it. Severus had the uneasy feeling that he had had to be quiet for the Dursleys.

He shook the thought out of his head, focusing on the here and now, and spotted signs to the toilets. As he reached them, his heart sank.

Men’s.

Disabled.

Ladies and Baby Changing.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered. He was far from the only man in the world to be in charge of a child in nappies without a female companion.

What the hell did he do now?

The only thing he could think of at that moment which was practical—i.e., not Polyjuicing into a woman or attempting a Disillusionment spell—was speaking to the … whoever managed this place. Severus’ first instinct, as he looked around for a clue as to where to go, was to march over and complain in his best threatening manner—but Albus’ words from earlier rang in his head. Maybe he should try the elder wizard’s approach.

“Here you go, sir. So sorry for the inconvenience.”

Severus’ entire face hurt from trying not to scowl, and his muscles protested violently as he forced a smile at the young attendant. “Thank you very much.”

Bloody Muggles, he thought, dropping his charming exterior the moment she had left. Albus’ technique of sweet-talking people rather than shouting at them had proven itself useful, though. Of course, Severus hadn’t needed to resort to any mind magic in this case; all it had taken was the (politely phrased) pointing out of the blatantly discriminatory and impractical facilities, and he had been directed to the toilets off the motel reception, in the next building. Where, he was relieved to discover, the baby changing was a completely separate room.

“Come on then,” he said to Harry, noting that it had worked out well in the end—it was less crowded and noisy here. “Let’s get this nasty thing off you.”

Harry didn’t seem to quite understand what was happening, but kept relatively still as Severus removed the revolting nappy, cleaned him up and got him into a fresh one. The bin was overflowing; Severus tried to breathe in as little as possible throughout the process, and was about to cram the dirty nappy on top when he was struck by an idea.

After a check for Muggles and security cameras, he conjured a small box, cast an odorproofing charm and sealed the nappy inside before packing it up with the rest of the changing things. It would make a nice ‘present’ to be left in the Dursleys’ car, assuming Albus didn’t wreck it completely.

By now Severus was exhausted, hungry and his mouth was painfully dry. Harry was quiet, just watching him from the changing table, but Severus figured the boy needed respite as much as he did.

“Better?” Severus asked, picking Harry up again. Harry buried his head in Severus’ shoulder in reply. “Back to the car we go, then. I do hope Albus has got some water …”

Severus and Harry arrived back at the car at the same moment Albus did. “Where did you two go?” Albus asked in surprise.

“Nappy changing,” Severus said shortly.

They got back in the car, keeping the doors open, and Albus handed Severus two bottles of water, and a child’s bottle he had obviously just bought. Severus filled it and gave it to Harry, who after being shown what it was for, guzzled noisily while Severus and Albus drank their own water.

“I bought food too,” Albus said after a few minutes, rummaging inside the bag. Harry seemed quite curious to see the source of the rustling noise. “Are you hungry, Harry?”

Harry made no response, but Albus handed Severus a jar of baby food and a plastic spoon.

“Pumpkin, potato and chicken,” Severus read off the label.

“I have a couple of others as well,” Albus said.

Severus unscrewed the lid. The contents looked like orange gloop; not particularly appetising. It didn’t smell so bad, though.

The moment he had taken the lid off, Harry stilled, and stopped sucking his bottle. Rather awkwardly, as Severus still had Harry on his lap, he filled the spoon.

“Severus,” Albus said, “maybe it would be best if one of us were to hold him and the other feed him?”

“Get back here, then,” Severus replied.

Albus got out of the car and slid into the back seat the other side of the car seat. Harry didn’t flinch; Severus supposed he must have got used to Albus’ presence now. Still he wasn’t sure which way around would be best.

“Harry?” Albus addressed the child gently. Harry ignored him. “Would you let Uncle Albus feed you?”

Severus gave a soft snort at the ‘Uncle’ bit. Severus handed over the baby food and spoon, Harry’s eyes following them.

“Here we are … here comes the Quaffle!” Albus made a whooshing sound and Severus rolled his eyes. Honestly, the man didn’t need to get Harry’s attention. “Open wide, Harry!”

The spoon drew nearer, and finally seeming to realise that the food was definitely for him, Harry opened his mouth.

“Goal!” Albus said happily as Harry swallowed eagerly and opened his mouth for more before Albus had even reloaded the spoon.

It didn’t take long for Harry to polish off the entire jar, though by the end he looked a little queasy. Severus made a silent wish that his charge wouldn’t bring his lunch back up, but Harry just settled back down with his bottle, now refilled, his eyes starting to close.

“Sandwich, Severus?”

After a hurried lunch, they began driving again. Severus was tempted to just doze off for the last hour or so of their journey, but didn’t dare, just in case. Harry went back to sleep quite quickly, and the silence fell again as neither man wanted to disturb him.

Finally, they turned into Bath, and Severus began to recognise the passing surroundings. It took a while for Albus to navigate to the right neighbourhood, but it was with the utmost relief that they came to a stop on Belfry Road.

It was only mid-afternoon, but all Severus wanted was to crawl into bed and go to sleep. Unfortunately, there was a lot to do until that luxury was possible.

“You do have a second bedroom, don’t you, Severus?” Albus asked as Severus let them all in.

“Yes, but I think I would be happier if he were to sleep in my room for the time being.”

“He’s going to need a bed,” Albus pointed out. “And more clothes, and toys, and other things … I could see to that if you don’t want to drag him round the shops.”

“Would you, Albus? Thank you,” Severus said gratefully, looking down at the sleeping boy. “To be honest, I hadn’t really figured out what I would do once we got here.”

Albus smiled. “Make him feel at home, is all I can suggest. I’ll make a start on getting you some provisions.”

“Oh, Albus,” Severus said as his words reminded him. “I don’t have any food here—nothing fresh, at any rate. You couldn’t …”

“Of course I will. See you in a few hours, Severus … Harry,” Albus added, looking fondly at the boy.

Once the front door closed behind Albus, Severus sighed. His charge was asleep, but he didn’t want to wake him by trying to put him down, so he sat on the brown leather sofa and stared into the fireplace, beginning to make plans in his mind.

There was so much to do. Albus at least was getting supplies … but it was gradually dawning on Severus that he was facing many years of raising a child, and he was beginning to panic at the thought.

How could he do this? He was no good with kids. He was Snape, the scary Potions Master, ex-Death Eater, and known locally as the Bat of Bath. When he passed the park around the corner, the younger ones ran away from the fence, occasionally shrieking, while the older children whispered and giggled to each other. He’d heard some of the tales told about him: that he was a vampire; that he liked to eat little children; that his long disappearances during term time were spent plotting to take over the world in a secret laboratory.

Muggle nonsense, naturally, but still, it didn’t say much for his natural ability to interact with anyone younger than eleven (and let’s face it—his abilities to interact with over-elevens were questionable).

Besides, merely interacting with a juvenile was one thing. Actually raising one …

Merlin, what had he been thinking?

It was at this moment, almost as if Harry had read Severus’ mind, that the little boy stirred and blinked slowly at his new guardian. Severus’ dark eyes met trusting green, and his doubts vanished. Other children didn’t matter. Harry was what counted, and judging by the boy’s continued desire to stay with him, Severus was obviously not doing too shabby a job so far.

Of course, it wouldn’t be easy. Even raising a normal child was difficult; Severus didn’t have to know a lot about parenting to know that. But to complicate the task further, the child now dependent on him had suffered cruelty beyond belief; was a werewolf; and to top it all off, the Boy Who Lived … the prophesied one.

Severus’ stomach turned at the thought of Voldemort ever getting near the boy again. He knew it was more than possible. He forced himself to put the fear out of his mind—it wasn’t the most pressing problem to deal with. No, firstly, he needed to help Harry overcome the months—or more—of abuse suffered at the Dursleys’ hands. Severus had to admit, he did not have much of an idea where to start.

Desperate to take his mind off his whirling thoughts, Severus looked back down at Harry and tried to analyse his behaviour. Harry was just resting contently in Severus’ arms, one hand closed over Severus’ robe, still watching Severus’ face as if wanting to make sure he was still there.

“Harry,” Severus said. Harry started slightly, but Severus was sure it was more reacting to the fact that he was talking, than the use of his name. “Would you like a story?”

Harry nodded shyly, and then to Severus’ utter astonishment, finally spoke. “Ye plis.”

Severus smiled broadly, and, assuming that ‘ye plis’ meant ‘yes please’, cast his mind around for a story, suddenly realising he didn’t have any books suitable for someone of Harry’s age. He remembered some fairy tales, but not very well. He would have to make it up.

Albus returned a long while later, to find Severus improvising a very peculiar mesh of Sleeping Beauty, The Fountain of Fair Fortune, and a Muggle novel he vaguely remembered from his childhood, with a couple of dragons and a talking penguin thrown in for good measure. Harry giggled every time Severus made the penguin talk, and it took him a while to realise he had been putting on a silly voice. The realisation came to him at the same moment he took notice of the elder wizard, who had entered the room unnoticed.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” Albus said with a smile bordering on a smirk while Severus felt his face heat up.

“… And they all lived happily ever after!”

Severus winced at the cheesy ending, but  a real smile broke over Harry’s face and he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Albus chose that moment to re-enter the living-room, pushing what was probably a buggy, though it was loaded down with bags. “I’ve unpacked the food, Severus. Now to the exciting part; what do you think, Harry?”

Harry gazed curiously at the big mound, but didn’t make a sound.

“What is all that stuff?” Severus asked, feeling rather nervous.

He kept a hold of Harry while Albus unpacked, showing them each individual item. More clothes, in lots of different colours and patterns. Packs of nappies. Parenting books. A cot bed, currently boxed up, but the photo on the front showed that the contents were white and gold—quite attractive, Severus had to admit. A boxed playpen. Baby monitors. Bedding stitched with furry teddy bears. A boxed high chair. A bathing set. And a range of soft toys, children’s books and a big plastic thing with lots of lights and buttons.

“I’ve got you the bare essentials,” Albus said, making Severus’ mouth fall open. This was bare essentials? “There’s a lot more you can buy, but I thought you’d like to do that yourself when you have the opportunity.”

“Thanks, Albus,” Severus said, staring in minor shock at the large pile of stuff.

“Would you like some assistance getting it all sorted?”

“Definitely.”

It took some time for Albus to figure out the instructions for the cot, playpen and highchair, and get them assembled correctly. Harry giggled when the cot collapsed just as Albus directed the last section into place with his wand.

“Really, Harry, it’s not nice to laugh at others’ misfortunes,” Albus said, though it was spoken lightly and he too was smiling.

Once they had been correctly erected and tested for safety, the cot was moved into Severus’ room, and the highchair into the kitchen. All the toys were put in the playpen, but Severus hesitated. Harry was still clinging to him; trying to put him down so early might not be a good idea.

“Albus, can you pass me one of those things?”

He received a stuffed bat in response, and rolled his eyes. Albus’ sense of humour drove him mad sometimes. Still, Harry was looking at it quite keenly, so he didn’t protest.

“Harry, would you like to play with …” Severus paused. “Mr Bat?”

Albus chuckled. “Severus, I know you’ve got more imagination than that.”

“I can think of lots of names suitable for a bat; but I’m not sure a three-year-old would appreciate any of them. Harry, would you like to give it a name?”

To his surprise, Harry nodded, and held out his arms hesitantly. Severus gave him the toy, and another smile crept across Harry’s face as he clutched it close, rubbing against its pretend fur with delight in his eyes.

A lump arose in Severus’ throat as he saw how much of an effect the simple action had had on the child. He wondered if Harry remembered ever having toys before.

“What are you going to call it?”

Harry didn’t answer, too lost in his happiness. Severus decided just to let him be.

-

Throughout being fed, watered, and undressed for bed, Harry didn’t let go of his new friend. Albus had thoroughly cleaned Harry’s blanket—both magically and in the washing-machine—and although the strong detergent had taken the blue colour out of it, he had spelled the colour back in and magically repaired the holes and thinning areas.

“You’re sure that’s clean, Albus?” Severus asked, looking doubtful.

“It’s good as new,” Albus assured him. “See? Having it back tonight might help him settle in. He’s obviously attached to it.”

“Probably because he didn’t have anything better.”

“Well, all the same …” Albus trailed off. “Ahh.”

Severus looked down. Harry had fallen asleep already, curled up in his arms.

“I had better get him to bed. He’s had one exhausting day.”

Albus watched while Severus took Harry upstairs, laid him gently in the new cot and tucked him in, with the bat and the old blanket. Harry stirred slightly, but only for a moment.

“I suppose I’ll say goodnight, then,” Albus whispered. “I should get back to the school. You’ll be all right, Severus?”

His doubt must have shown in his face, for Albus chuckled slightly.

“You’ll be fine, I promise. He trusts you: that’s the most important step. And if you need any help, don’t hesitate to call me.”

-

Severus spent the rest of his evening making sure that his house was child-proofed, whilst attached to the baby monitor. Harry wasn’t exactly wandering freely now, but no doubt he would at some point. Severus put locks on all the cupboards, checked any electrical wires were out of harm’s way, and cast unbreakable charms on everything within a toddler’s reach.

When he’d finished, he collapsed into a chair, thinking longingly of his bed. It was hardly his bedtime—but then, he was a parent now. Children were hard work. And there was a good chance Harry would wake up in the night, which meant he wasn’t going to be able to sleep right through like he used to.

Harry was still fast asleep when Severus got into bed. He took one last look at the cot, before closing his eyes and drifting off almost immediately.

When he awoke suddenly, Severus lay still in the darkness, staring at the ceiling and confused. It took a moment for the events of the previous day to come back to him.

Harry!

He sat up, and now his sharp ears could pick up on something. The slightest of whimpers. Severus climbed out of bed and approached the cot, startled by what he found.

His charge was kneeling in front of the bars, hanging onto them, silent tears running down his face. Severus recognised the beseeching expression immediately. It was the same look Harry had given him after putting him in the car seat.

“Oh, no.” Severus carefully lowered the side, making sure he didn’t trap Harry’s fingers as he did so. “I’m sorry, Harry; it’s all right.” He lifted him up, and Harry clung to him again. “Shh, shh. I’m sorry.”

This left him in a bit of a pickle. If Harry didn’t like the cot, what was Severus supposed to do? The thing could be made into a bed, Albus had said, but he wasn’t about to start trying to work it out now. “Okay, Harry, why don’t you sleep with me tonight?”

“Ye plis,” was the quiet reply.

That decided, Severus put Harry down in his own bed and got in beside him. The small warm body snuggled up close, and Severus put his arm around him, to make sure he didn’t fall out. Harry went still and quiet again, and Severus started to drift off as well.

-

Harry woke twice more in the night. Each time he woke, he made little to no noise, but Severus somehow sensed it and woke.

“Parental instincts,” Albus said, sounding rather proud when Severus related the incidents to him the next morning over a very strong coffee.

“Already?”

“Why not? I imagine your werewolf connection probably heightens that connection.”

“Hmm.” Severus had not given it much thought, but he supposed Albus had a point.

He looked down at Harry, who was still sucking his breakfast spoon with one hand, clutching the bat in the other. Harry was on Albus’ lap, since the highchair had evoked the same resistance that the cot and car seat had.

“We’re going to have to do something about that,” Albus said, as if he knew what Severus was thinking.

“Do what? He obviously can’t stand being restrained in any way. I can’t say I blame him after what they did. But he needs restraints; he’s barely more than a baby.”

“Hmm … well, you could get a child’s seat for a normal chair, and cast a cushioning charm. That way he’s not physically restrained.”

“And the other things?”

“One problem at a time.”

Albus drained his coffee, gently moved Harry to Severus’ lap, and stood up. “I should be heading back. I’ll pop in this evening if you want.”

“It’ll be much appreciated.”

“Well, buh-bye, Harry,” Albus said, giving him a little wave and turning to leave.

“Buh.”

They both stared in astonishment at Harry, who was holding up one of his hands and flexing the fingers. Albus smiled broadly—it was the first time he had heard him speak.

“Don’t fret, Severus. You’re doing a marvellous job.”

And with that, he was gone.

-

To no surprise, Harry hadn’t been over-fond of the playpen either. Instead, Severus removed the bars and let Harry just play on the mat. Harry showed no desire to stray beyond the edge.

It was too easy to watch him for hours. Harry’s play was hesitant, like he wasn’t certain he knew how to do it, but gradually he got absorbed in the assortment of toys. He lined them all up in order of size, then he piled them on top of each other like a pyramid, then he started moving them around individually, actually interacting with each other. He made barely a sound, which started to worry Severus.

“Harry,” he said gently after a while.

Harry looked up.

“You can make as much noise as you like,” Severus told him firmly. He hoped somewhere down the line he wouldn’t come to regret the ‘as much as you like’ part, but for the moment, he just needed to boy to know he wasn’t going to be punished for playing out loud.

Harry went back to his animals, and something had obviously got through, because he was mumbling things as he did so. Severus figured that would do for a first step.

“Wshhthhh.” Harry made the bat fly in the air in a circle with what was presumably meant to be a ‘whoosh’. Severus couldn’t help but smile. Harry was crawling one-handed around the mat with it, but misjudged the edge of the mat and took a tumble.

Severus was there in an instant, lifting him up and gently putting him back on the mat. Harry let out a small cry, and Severus realised with horror he had almost knelt on his favourite toy.

“I’m very sorry, Mr Bat—or whatever your name is,” Severus said quickly, rescuing it. Harry held out his arms; but instead of giving it back, Severus made it fly back into them, rewarded by a tiny squeal of delight.