Severus stood idly looking out of the living room window. He would never have admitted this to Harry, but he was perplexed as to why anyone would want to live in Number 16. As he watched, a small, slightly dilapidated car pulled up to the curb just outside of No. 16. Harry joined him, and they watched curiously. Then Severus gave himself a mental shake and left the window.

“Come on, Harry. We can’t stand there looking all day. And anyway, I need help making dinner.” Harry reluctantly left the window, and followed his father into the kitchen. Severus pulled some potatoes from the cupboard, and started to peel. Beside him, Harry softly hummed a tune. Severus recognized Beethoven’s ‘Fur Elise’, and a tear came slipping down his cheek. Angrily wiping it away, he turned and started chopping roast chicken with a vengeance. He sensed, rather than saw, Harry look sideways at him, slightly alarmed.

“Dad… I—I’m going upstairs.”

Harry turned suddenly, and ran up to his room. Severus cursed himself for reacting so strongly to Lily’s favourite song. He sat down with a thump on a chair, and sobbed as if his heart would break.

“Lily… Oh, Lily!”

***

Hermione Granger slowly swung open the door of the car. Swallowing a sob, she squared her shoulders and got out. Her mother reached down and took hold of her hand, and the small bit of familiarity gave Hermione courage. Together, they walked towards the house.

***

Harry sat on his window seat, crying bitterly. Why did he always make his Dad sad? He didn’t mean to, but sometimes he just couldn’t help it. He hadn’t even realised what he was humming, until the small motion of his dad wiping away a tear had alerted him.

The door to Harry’s room creaked slowly open. Harry didn’t acknowledge his father’s presence, burying his head in his arms instead.

Seeing the reaction of his son, Severus sighed, feeling horrible for making his son so sad. He sank onto the window seat beside Harry.
“Harry.”
It was just one word, but it was enough to make Harry fall into his father’s arms, and sob as if his heart would break.

***

Hermione read the number on the leaning mailbox. 16. Number 16. She raised her eyes from the mailbox. The house was small and shabby. The paint was peeling, and one of the stairs leading up to the porch was broken. Hermione followed her mother into the house, avoiding the broken step. The hall was dark, and Hermione gave a small start when the floorboards creaked under her feet.

She followed her mother down the hall, turning left into a small kitchen/dining room. Her mother bit her lip as she looked around, and placed two shopping bags on the counter. Hermione sat on a chair at the little round table, and waited while her mother put the cheap mince, cheese, half-dead vegetables and milk in the fridge, the cornflakes in the cupboard, and the bread in another cupboard.

Then she turned to Hermione.
“Come on ‘Minny. I’ll show you the rest of the house,” her mother stated in a falsely cheery tone. Hermione shrugged, got off the chair, and followed her mother directly across the hall to the bathroom. She took in the cracked mirror, flimsy toilet, and the dirty shower glass.

Her mother showed her the living room, through a door at the end of the hall, then two doors off of the living room, which led to a tiny laundry room, where their washing machine had already been installed, and one which went to a creaky set of stairs.

Hermione climbed them apprehensively. Her mother opened one of the two doors leading off of the tiny hall upstairs. In this room was a double mattress on the floor, and a dresser. Several boxes were stacked on the floor, and a blanket and some sheets were piled on the bed.

“This is my room,” Jean Granger told Hermione. “I haven’t unpacked yet. But now we’ll go see your room.”
Hermione cautiously peered through the next door. The door creaked as she opened it, and stepped into the room.

To her left was a mattress lying on the beige carpet. It was covered with rose-patterned sheets, and her favourite blanket, which depicted a unicorn drinking from a sparkling blue stream in a clearing. To her right was a small built in cupboard, where some of her clothes were already folded. Some boxes were stacked neatly next to Hermione’s small desk. But the thing she was drawn to most was the window seat. It had a long cushion to sit on, and a small cushion was in the corner. It was covered in a hand-embroidered pillowcase that her father had made.

Hermione flung herself down on the mattress and sobbed as if her heart would break.

***

Harry leaned against his father’s shoulder drinking hot chocolate, his father’s special recipe. His plate, with the remnants of a casserole sitting on it, was beside him. Severus was smiling. They shared a memory of Lily, the time when Harry caught her and Severus in the middle of wrapping his first broom.

“Harry! What are you doing here?” The question came from his mother. The soon to be 6-year-old stood wide-eyed in the doorway to the living room, his eyes drawn to the Mini-Comet 200. It was a broom designed specially by the broomstick company ‘Comet’, just for children. It had speed and height restrictions, but they were looser than the regular children’s brooms.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Harry said, his eyes still on the broom. “What are you doing? Can I have the broom?” Lily looked at Severus, panicking. Severus thought quickly.

“Not right now Harry. Right now, you have to go to bed. Come with me, I’ll tuck you in.” Harry considered this for a moment.

“’Kay,” he stated, as his father took him by the hand and led him up the stairs. Lily smiled at their backs.

Harry’s smile was like pure gold to Severus as he remembered the broom that he’d gotten 2 days afterwards, and how he’d driven his father crazy, constantly asking if her could go to his Grandma ‘Leen’s small farm every day, so that he could fly without risk of Muggles seeing him. His father had finally put a disillusionment charm over him and the broom, but had cast a complicated charm on himself so that he could see through the illusion.

“Harry, I’ve enjoyed reliving these memories with you, but you have to go to bed,” Severus told Harry. Harry mock pouted, but trotted up the stairs to brush his teeth. Severus stretched, and slowly walked up after him.

Severus kissed the top of Harry’s tousled black hair and gently pulled the covers over him. He stopped at the door to turn out the light, and whispered into the darkness, “I love you Harry.” He hardly heard the quiet reply from the bed.

“Love you too Dad.”