~~~~SS~~~~

Tuesday, 30 December 1997

The deep pang of regret was a feeling that Severus Snape was all too familiar with; it would be for anyone who had as many regrets in their life as Severus. He regretted not standing up to his father more often. He regretted calling Lily a mudblood and delivering the prophecy to Voldemort. And he regretted not checking in on the Dursley residence until he saw the evidence of Harry's abuse right in front of his face during their chance encounter over the winter holiday of Harry's first year.

Each of those regrets held its own weight on his soul. Could he have saved his mother had he defended her against Tobias Snape? Would Lily still be alive had he not ruined their friendship? Could he have saved Harry from a childhood of neglect if he had thought once about the child in the ten years since he'd been orphaned?

Today, he added a very different kind of regret to his growing list: lifting Harry's magical quarantine, and committing to a magic-free home, except for Harry's required use, before he finished cleaning up for Mae's arrival later that night. While he knew the scrubbing of the surfaces needed to be done the muggle way, Severus had overlooked how much he relied on his wand to keep the bucket filled, conjuring new sponges, or simply moving the damn bucket to each room, on top of the other domestic tasks, like dusting, changing bed sheets, and cleaning the dishes. And considering Severus didn't get into bed until well after two o'clock in the morning, his measly four hours of sleep were long gone by the time he wandered into the kitchen at half three o'clock in the afternoon to compose a list for a quick trip to the market two towns over.

"So when's Mae getting here?" Dudley asked, surprising Severus from behind thanks to Harry's magic no longer causing the stairs to creak.

The sound of creak might have annoyed Severus whenever he heard it during the summer – mostly because of his inability to identify why it happened – but he missed the warning it gave him whenever anyone used the staircase.

"Sorry 'bout that," Dudley hurriedly added at Severus's small jump, "I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"You're fine," Severus grumbled. He closed the last cabinet door, sighing as he stretched his tight back and seriously reconsidered their long-term plans to live at Spinner's End, what with the constant grime taking its toll on his body and no decent shops nearby. "Do either you or Harry need anything from the market? I'm going to Hampshire's, not the hole-in-the-wall place here on Spindle Way."

Based on Dudley's half-smirk, the teenager vividly remembered their closest market, if one could even call it such, stocked mostly with foods that did not require an expiration date in this calendar year, and where one would still want to thoroughly sanitise the exterior packing prior to opening it.

"I'm good," Dudley announced as he filled two metal water bottles from the sink tap, securely tightening the spout on each one after they were filled. "But I heard Harry complaining about his body soap when he got out of the shower this morning. I think it's a bottle he left here from the summer. He didn't want to make a big deal about it, but if you're going to the store anyway, it might be worth getting him something new. Just please don't tell him I said anything to you."

"I'll make sure I'm discreet about it," Severus muttered, adding Harry's most recent successful brand of body wash to his growing shopping list. "Did he give any idea of what the issue was? No rash or burning, I hope."

Severus turned just in time to see Dudley shake his head in reply. "If it was anything major like that, I'm sure he'd tell one of us about it."

"I'd hope so."

An awkward moment passed between them as they stood eye-to-eye in the kitchen before Severus made the first move to the refrigerator, yanking it open to confirm the emptiness he already knew would be there, and Dudley plopped himself in what had become his chair at the kitchen table, opposite of Severus's, to pull his trainers on, tying each one into double knots. That's when Severus took notice of his attire of a loose-fitted long-sleeved athletic shirt and shorts, appropriate for the walk around the neighbourhood; the first step to the exercise regime the three of them had discussed over breakfast. Notably missing from the room, though, was the Gryffindor himself.

"I apologize for my distraction this morning," Severus said in a low voice. He closed the refrigerator door, then moved until he positioned himself against the door separating the sitting room from the kitchen, facing towards Dudley at the table, so he'd hear any sign of Harry approaching from the sitting room. "How was Harry after everything we discussed at breakfast? When I left his room this morning, he seemed in decent spirits. But given the day to dwell on things… well, as you know, it could go either way with him."

If Dudley had any qualms about discussing his cousin's mental health, outside of his equally lowered voice, he hid it well. "He's had a bit of a rough morning, honestly. Nothing major, compared to what he just went through at the hospital, but I think the magic's wearing him down more than he expected it to. We're going to start small today, walk up to the park and take some laps around the playground. Maybe go down to the riverbed and back up, then come home. If it's not flat, I also thought I'd bring the basketball to dribble on our way there. I saw it in the shed last night when I got the painting supplies."

"I'm sure Harry can re-inflate it. If he doesn't know the spell, I'll take it to the alley to do it myself," Severus offered, choosing not to add any commentary on Dudley's small part of the new project he walked in on last night.

Based on his brief peek inside of the bedroom while Harry showered that morning, the young wizard had removed the splashes of paint randomly thrown onto the wall – as well as the floor, the bedspread, and the furniture – and had not attempted to recreate it elsewhere in his bedroom. At least as far as Severus had seen. For all he knew Harry was painting every surface and then immediately using his newly approved magic to clean it off before Severus ever found out. It's precisely what Severus would have done in Harry's situation. But it was also a rather Slytherin thing to do and with Harry, it depended on the day if he'd look down on such an act, or try to justify it himself to get away with it.

"I know you will already," Severus continued, "but keep a close watch on him and bring along his sphere. If for whatever reason you can't make it back, have him contact me and I'll apparate you both home. He seems to have a negative physical reaction to apparating, so please consider the return trip and limit your wandering to a reasonable distance."

"You got me, Severus." Dudley's eye roll had Severus holding back the urge to cuff the child in the back of the head. "I guess I'll have to cancel the pickup football waiting for us at the park."

Severus opened his mouth – an equally sarcastic remark lined up on his lips – when the door he was leaning on pushed forward against Severus's back, causing Harry to groan from the other side when it didn't budge Severus at all.

"So what? Am I not allowed in the kitchen anymore? You could have at least given me some warning first, so I didn't plough right into the door head first," Harry complained as soon as Severus opened the door to the sight of the young wizard standing two steps back with his hand pressing onto the bump surely forming on his forehead.

But the new bump was only one part of the long list of worries regarding Harry's appearance; the deep frown lines on the sides of his pale face, dark circles under his dulled green eyes, and his sunken cheeks rounded out the rest of it. Had he not understood how much Harry needed the physical release to keep his magic in line, Severus would have kept him inside the rest of the holiday, if for no other reason than to prevent anyone from reporting his questionable parenting choices months before the adoptions. In any case, he supposed the dodgy neighbourhood of Cokeworth would work to his benefit; those hiding their own dubious acts in the shadows were less likely to put their noses in other people's business.

"Of course, you are allowed in the kitchen. I simply was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Severus casually said, moving to the side to allow Harry access. He led Harry straight to his chair and, offering no explanation, examined his forehead for signs of any cuts or abnormal bruising. The process had become so routine for them that Harry said nothing about it, and Severus didn't have to tell him when he found nothing concerning.

The following minutes spent watching Dudley and Harry get ready for their walk did little to ease Severus's mind in sending Harry out into the neighbourhood practically alone. Although Harry now carried his wand everywhere with him, it wouldn't do any good if the young wizard wasn't conscious to use it – and the closer they got to the door, the more likely that outcome appeared – leaving Dudley as the responsible one during their outing. Deciding to place his trust in Dr Swanson's evaluation of Harry's physical state and Alton's opinion of his magical one, Severus swallowed down his anxiety as they left, but still hung his head outside of the door until both boys had long vanished from his view toward the same park where Severus and Lily had first met.

He hadn't even made it to the staircase, on his way to change for his trip to the market, when the never-used muggle doorbell rang. Assuming he'd find Harry and Dudley on the other side, having forgotten their keys or something of the like, he gasped at the sight of Mae standing on the stoop with a dark blue duffle bag dangling at her side and holding two white bags in her arms.

"Mae! You're early!" Severus exclaimed.

"Well, hello to you too," she retorted with a sigh and leaned in to plant a small kiss on his still-shocked cheek.

The bags in her arms crinkled as they pressed to his chest, getting close enough for him to feel the warmth from the food inside – Chinese, based on the delicious scent wafting up to him from them. In his stunned state, Severus must have motioned for her to come in because the next thing he knew he was standing in the foyer holding the two bags into his arms, while Mae took off her winter coat and scarf, draping them on her arm.

"At the last minute, I took a half-day to surprise you and Harry. The office closed at lunch today, anyway, but a few of us had offered to stay behind to get ready for the next year. You'd be amazed at how much there is to do around there come January first," she hurriedly explained. "I mentioned I was driving out here tonight to spend a few days with you and Harry, and the other nurses suggested I just take off… holiday traffic and all that.

"And I'm not going to lie, I'm glad I did because–and don't take this the wrong way–let's just say I wouldn't have wanted to drive around here in the dark. I don't know what I pictured when you described where you grew up, but it wasn't this. Which reminds me," she nervously turned towards the window on the side of the door, facing out to the street, "I parked the car out in front and… erm… I promise this is nothing against you… but… is it safe out there?"

The last five words were said in such a rush that it took Severus's mind a solid thirty seconds to unravel them and figure out what she had asked, the entirety spent glaring into her concerned brown eyes as she awaited his answer. Finally, he snapped out of his stupor and clarified, "You mean Mrs Charmichael's death trap?"

"Must you sound so dramatic about it? I promise it's really not that bad," she replied, giving him the answer he needed.

Not saying another word about it, Severus handed the bags of food back to her, opened the door just enough to crane his body outside of it, and then waved his wand at the small vehicle parked in the street in front of his home. "It's safe now."

"It's still there. W-what did you do to it?"

He replied with a satisfied grin, "I added a muggle-repelling charm on it to keep any muggles away from it, although I seriously doubt anyone would attempt to steal that thing in its condition. Harry and I are the only magical people living in Cokeworth, and even if there are any others, they would have no reason to vandalise a vehicle like that. Alternatively, I could do a full concealment charm if you'd rather it disappear, however, should anyone else attempt to park in that space, their vehicle would inevitably hit yours."

"This is fine, thank you."

"Here, let me take these–to the kitchen, I presume–and then I'll give you the official tour of the place." Severus took the bags out of her hands again, wishing yet again he could cast a warming charm on them but not daring the risk of triggering Harry's magic into some kind of fire situation.

"It's takeaway, I figured it's the lead I could do after showing up at your place hours early," Mae said, following him through the sitting room and into the kitchen where Severus placed the bags on the table where a had fourth chair had been added, making the kitchen feel more cramped than usual. "Hope you guys like Chinese, because it was the only place around here. I take it you don't order in much?"

"No, we tend to cook at home." Severus moved to the cabinet, planning on setting the table, but stopped, figuring it'd be best to have Harry set it magically when he got home if he wasn't too tired from the day. "Besides the fact that I actually prefer to cook, and am quite a decent one too as you'll see tomorrow, it allows me to make any adjustments for Harry's diet. And then, of course, there's the whole 'not living in a thriving metropolis with half a dozen different food nationalities at our fingertips' issue."

Mae propped her fists on her waist in a serious, yet playful, stance that reminded Severus how much they complemented each other. "Well, being the only takeaway here it better be good."

"Or what?" He challenged, choosing that moment to wrap his arms around her waist to pull her into him for a proper welcome into his home. She instantly relaxed into his embrace and returned it with a warm kiss. "Chinese is perfect, Mae. Thank you."

"I didn't know what everyone liked, so I picked out a few of the safer options. I just hope it's enough."

Severus followed her calculated gaze to the two bags leaning against each other in the centre of the table. Even considering the smaller meals Harry had been eating lately, he doubted it would be sufficient for two adults and two seventeen-year-old boys.

"I see your concern. Without Harry here right now, it's an easy fix." He continued to stare at her fallen expression as he pulled his wand and tapped each bag to successfully duplicate everything inside of it. Her face lit up – her dark eyes widening in a combination of disbelief, amazement, and joy.

"D-did you just…?!"

Mae didn't finish her exclamation before opening one of the newly formed bags – assuming she had kept track of them, which Severus hadn't – and removed five handled boxes now containing a quarter of their deliciously smelling dinner. He rested his back against the countertop behind him to give her space to explore and examine the rather complicated Transfiguration he'd done. Of all the magic he'd shown her in the weeks since their awful fight, including their trip to Diagon Alley, he knew none of it would compare to seeing the food she was about to consume doubled right in front of her eyes. She opened every single box to smell them and took a sample bite from the ones containing the citrus chicken, white rice, and noodles.

"Does anything seem off to you?" He asked when she took a half-step back from the table. "They should be the same."

She twirled around, almost surprised to see him casually standing in his own kitchen. "They are," she said, breathlessly. "They're even warm too. I can't – I can't tell which ones were the originals either."

"The sign of a successful spell," Severus replied, every bit as confident as his skills deserved.

"Can you…" her hands made a poof gesture as if implying something came out of midair.

"We can duplicate food already here," he explained, answering her unasked questions, "but, no, we cannot conjure food out of nothing. So as long as there is a grain of rice in the container's bottom, I can refill the box. Once that grain has been eaten, however, I cannot replenish it."

She stood there, for a moment, completely still except for her eyes moving back and forth over the takeaway boxes spread across the table. Holding his breath waiting for her next move, Severus watched her slowly turn to face him and cover her face with her hands.

"You know, I assumed you lived in a magical house," she said into her hands, the muffled words barely audible across the small kitchen, "but I guess I also assumed food–" her hands suddenly dropped to her sides, revealing her almost amused grin, "–that food was pretty constant between any… beings."

Severus's chest lightened as he let out a sigh of relief. She hadn't run away. She hadn't shunned him as Tobias had done to his mother. And until that very second – both of them facing off in the tiny kitchen after his blatant show of magic – he hadn't realized how worried he was that she'd react just like him. He should have known better, and seeing the comfort in her eyes reminded him how different she was; how different they both were from his parents.

"You may be slightly disappointed in the rest of the house then." He held his hand out for hers and allowed the warmth in his chest to overtake him when she took ahold of it. Hand-in-hand, she followed him back through the sitting room, towards the front door. "You see, my father was a muggle, so the house is mostly muggle still-"

"Mostly?"

"Harry's magic," Severus said, cringing as soon as the oversimplified words left his mouth.

As expected, her face contorted as she tried to make sense of a connection she had no way of knowing. "His magic? I–I don't understand…"

As much as Severus wanted to make light of the topic surrounding Harry's magic, he needed to tell her for his sake – to lift some of the burden from his shoulders – as much as for her own safety. To stop him from changing his mind, he quickly replied, "Do you remember me telling you how his magic reacted to the chromotherapy?

Interested, Mae nodded. "Yeah, and when it caused his relapse, you did some kind of voodoo thing to take his magic away."

"Blocked it," Severus corrected with a soft chuckle at Mae's choice of word to describe dark magic. "And it worked, mostly, until his magic broke through the block… or more accurately the chemotherapy dissolved the block… earlier than we expected." His eyebrows furrowed in further confusion. "It's not really a well-documented ritual, nor has it ever been used in anything remotely similar to Harry's circumstances, so it's been a bit of trial and error. Regardless of the mechanics behind the block and its original purpose, the point is, his magic fully came back the week before Christmas and, let's just say, he had a volatile reaction to the magic here. So I had to remove all the enchantments."

"Aww and here I was hoping to see your–" her face scrunched up as if she was trying to solve some complicated equation, "–self-washing dishes?"

At her pause, Severus nodded to confirm he had, indeed, used magic to wash their dishes.

"And self-running laundry?" Another pause. Another nod, this one followed by Mae's shoulders jumping in glee. "I heard your refrigerator in the kitchen and can see the light bulbs meaning you have electricity instead of those ancient lanterns to lights… so, uh… what else am I missing?"

"A few well-placed heating charms in the drafty bedrooms which you'll wish for later tonight," Severus said, counting off on his fingers, "cushioning charms on my potions phials in the laboratory, a couple of stasis charms on unfinished potions which forced me to discard the unstable ones, and several protective wards around the perimeter of the house, the sitting room, and my bedroom."

"Protective wards, huh?" Mae's eyes squinted at him. "Do I even want to know what those entail?"

"Probably not," Severus responded after a quick debate on how much more he should reveal to her. But seeing as the muggle side of the neighbourhood already had enough to frighten her, and he had plans in place should anything unexpected occur during their stay at Spinner's End, he decided against offering any insight into the heavy wards he removed. "How about I give you the grand tour now?"

Mae smiled, then picked up her duffle bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Lead the way."

Not including the time it took Mae to unpack her things into his bedroom and the shared lavatory, the "grand tour" still took a surprising twenty minutes to complete; mostly because Mae lingered in each room to make comments on them. She had smiled fondly at Harry and Dudley's individual styles making up their bedroom, commenting on how it looked as if the boys were becoming as close as brothers, she scrutinized his vast collection of books in the sitting room, and even roam around the small patch of grass and concrete in what was supposed to pass as their back garden. She had asked him to see the cellar – "What's behind that door?" – but he refused to let her down there on account of the deactivated protection spells; for her safety more than his or the ingredients.

"Y'know? For three boys living here, it's cleaner than I imagined," she said into the cup of freshly made tea after they made their way back to the kitchen.

Severus scoffed. "You have no idea."

"Mae, you're here!" For the second time that day, Severus jumped at the sound of a voice sneaking up behind him – this time, Harry's tired, scratchy voice, rather than Dudley's – and for the second time he cursed his missing monitoring charms. "I told you it was her car out front."

"I didn't say it wasn't Mae's," Dudley argued, entering right behind Harry. "I said we needed to get inside." The teen frowned. "But now I can't remember what was so important."

Severus shared a knowing glare with Harry, then shrugged. The charm placed beyond the boundaries of their home wouldn't pose any threat to Harry, as long as he didn't go in the vehicle; a move Severus neither expected nor would encourage.

"Surprise! I thought I'd get this party started a little early!" Mae stood to give Harry a hug, which, to Severus's surprise, the young wizard returned, and sent a friendly wave towards Dudley. "I hope you boys like Chinese food. I stopped for takeaway on the way here."

"Thanks, we're starving," Dudley said, moving automatically to set the table as Harry dropped into the chair Dudley usually took and a sign he'd physically and magically pushed himself too far. "Even if we suspect that place is some kind of drug front."

Harry pulled a box of beef towards him and took a deep whiff of the contents before spooning an almost insultingly minuscule portion onto the plate Dudley placed in front of him. "You have to admit it's good, though."

The professor did not overlook the pleasant domesticity of their shared meal. Severus had never seen two adults have a meal together in that kitchen which didn't end in some physical fight or screaming match. In fact, he hadn't seen any decent interactions with anyone there, at least until Harry moved in. If anything, the kitchen of Spinner's End had seen more hostility, rage, and tears within its walls than any other emotion, especially the laughter, love, and joy they had that evening.

The same could be said about Severus's and Mae's trip to the market after dinner, where they meandered the store with no animosity or shame. Somewhere between the dairy and bread aisle, Severus learned that despite how much Mae enjoyed cooking too, it often reminded her of the years spent raising her brother. By the end, Severus genuinely looked forward to cooking with Mae over the next two days; to build and grow a new connection between them, one as personal as creating a meal together.

Harry and Dudley were still awake when they arrived back home, and Severus asked Harry to magically put away their groceries – an opening spell on the cupboard and refrigerator, levitation for the food, and vanishing the toiletries to the lavatory upstairs.

At Harry's encouragement, Dudley challenged Mae to a game of Wizard's Chess – an oversight on Severus's part when he rid the home of all magical elements, but luckily Harry's magic did not react; a positive sign for the regiment's success. They all had a good laugh at Mae's horrified reaction when the pieces attacked one another whenever they overtook a space on the board, and the irony of the two muggles playing Wizard's Chess, as opposed to the muggle set he kept in the lower cupboards, wasn't lost on Severus. Although the match itself should have been evenly matched, Mae's apprehension to move anything meant Dudley won their first game far faster than he really should have.

By ten o'clock, Harry and Dudley excused themselves for bed, leaving Mae and Severus alone in the sitting room. Severus lit a fire in the fireplace – having to recall how to do so by muggle methods – and Mae moved from the floor, where she had been playing a card game with Harry, to the sofa, curling up into Severus's side with his arm protectively around her. Time barely seemed to move as they sat in that position, watching the flames of the fire dance along the stone fireplace.

"You know I was joking earlier, right?" Mae eventually broke their silence, her head moving to look up at him. "About your place. I really love it. It feels so… so loved."

The sarcastic huff left his mouth before he could stop it. "That wasn't always the case here."

"I know," she told him in a voice he would have hated coming from anyone except for her. "But I can feel how hard you've worked to turn the atmosphere around here, which is why I thought you should know that I think you're succeeding. And if I can feel the love you've poured into the home you've built for Harry–and Dudley–after being here for only a few hours, then I'm sure they can feel it too."

Out of all the situations where Severus was left with no words, and there had been many throughout the years, almost all of them had been from his own choice not to speak; not because someone else had left him speechless. And yet hearing Mae's observation hit him in a place of his heart not even Harry's love touched. That same spot was touched by the thought of the house finally being full – full of people and full of love – in a way that it never had the chance to be during his childhood.

"You look deep in thought." Mae's whisper tickled his ear a second before her lips brushed against it. "What's on your mind?"

He didn't answer her – the answer was far too personal to share with anyone. But she didn't complain when he turned his head to greet her lips in an unsuspecting kiss, or when he deepened the kiss, ready for them to head upstairs to his bedroom for the night.

~~~~HP~~~~

From the day Snape moved into Privet Drive shortly after his diagnosis, Harry was no longer required to cook; not for his relatives, not for Snape, or not even for himself. Although he hated being forced to make more meals than any child should, at a far earlier age than most do, he actually loved to cook and bake, and he often found himself gravitating to it whenever he needed to clear his head.

Of course, like so many other aspects of his life, working in the kitchen was an unfortunate casualty of his chemotherapy. He needed a steady hand to measure the ingredients with any precision and to avoid burning himself on the edges of the oven or dropping a hot baking sheet as he removed it from the oven. Fortunately, being allowed to use magic again made up for most of that, which was how Harry found himself downstairs in the kitchen making his third batch of scones at three in the morning after tossing and turning most of the night.

Exhausted but not able to sleep, how's that for irony?

He'd been surprised to find all the ingredients he needed tucked away in the back of a cupboard that, based on the age of the label in contrast to the freshness of the baking powder, had obviously been under a stasis charm until Snape removed all magic from the house. Seeing as it was bound to go bad faster than normal outside of the charmed cupboard, Harry figured Snape wouldn't mind waking up to freshly made scones from it.

"Accio flour," he called out to the empty room, his wand pointed at the sack of flour next to the sink. As with everything else he attempted to summon throughout the day, the requested item came soaring to the table where Harry set up his working area. "At least that one works consistently."

Harry used a weaker-than-he'd-like levitation charm to hover the sack above a measuring cup he had also found hidden in the back cupboard. If anyone did any baking before Harry moved in, he'd be willing to bet that it had been decades ago.

No magic was needed to pour the flour into the large glass mixing bowl, or to crack the eggs, although his lack of grip strength left him picking several shell pieces out of the batter before he set the spoon to stir. With his wand hovering over the rotation, he focused on monitoring the dough for the right moment to cast finite until the door to the kitchen crept open so slowly he almost attributed it to a strong cross draft; at least until Mae stepped inside the dimly lit room wearing one of Snape's black button-down shirts with nothing underneath it.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't expect anyone else to be up at this hour," she exclaimed to him. A quick glance down at her bare legs left her face redder than Harry and ever seen on anyone. "I-I… erm… uh… see, I was…"

"You must be cold," Harry blurted out, both to break the awkwardness by calling attention to the hippogriff in the room and to see her flush intensify at least tenfold. To emphasize the point further, he looked down at his black and white flannel pyjama set and warm slippers. "Guess Severus should have told you that the house gets a little chilly at night, especially without the warming charms in place."

"He may have mentioned it at some point today. This isn't what I brought… erm… I mean…" Mae paused, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand as she looked at every other part of the room beside Harry. "But it sounds like a good excuse for some cocoa–" she gestured to the cupboard holding the mugs, "–would you like a cup?"

"Mhmm," Harry replied with a nod. He didn't necessarily want a cup of cocoa, but it would give her a little relief from the embarrassment he had encouraged.

In a comfortable silence, she went to work heating the kettle – a task Harry's magic couldn't assist with – and readied two mugs on the counter, while Harry returned to his scones. The pan of perfectly circular pads of dough had just finished levitating to the oven when Mae placed the steaming cup in front of him and sat down in the chair across from him.

"So…" she began once they both had taken their first sips, "do you always come down in the middle of the night to bake or is this a new thing? Don't get me wrong, it smells amazing and may very well be what woke me up, but I get the feeling Severus doesn't know about all this."

It was Harry's turn to flush, although he questioned if his pallid complexion helped, or prevented, the sight of it on his cheeks.

"Severus knows I can't sleep some nights," he finally went with. "At school, I usually sit out in the sitting room because we have… erm… we don't have much need, or room, to cook like this. But here… well… see, I like to cook. I just can't do it without my wand to help, so when I couldn't sleep I figured I might as well make us something to eat in the morning."

Harry watched Mae scrutinize his face, taking in the telltale signs of exhaustion Harry saw in the mirror whenever he dared to look; grateful when she didn't comment on it. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled with a smile and said, "Well if it's half as good as it smells, we're in for a treat."

"Thanks." Harry beamed at the compliment. Of all the meals he'd cooked, he had never received a genuine compliment about them – his aunt and uncle wouldn't dare comment positively on anything Harry did and he hadn't cooked for Snape. "Wish I could put a warming charm over it–" Harry shrugged, "–but that spell is still off-limits."

"I'm sure they'll be fine heated back up in a few hours," Mae reassured him.

Her eyes remained trained on her cup, watching herself rotate it around in her hand. And sensing she had more to say, Harry patiently waited in a way that would have made Snape proud, lifting his own cup to his lips in a regular cadence, despite not taking much more than a taste of the rich, chocolaty liquid inside. It took less than two minutes for his patience to be rewarded.

"I can tell you missed it," Mae eventually said, so quietly Harry would have missed it had he not been waiting for her to speak. At his curious expression, she clarified, "Your magic. Watching you with the scones, I can tell you've missed using it."

Harry frowned, unsure how to respond. What made a muggle who hardly knew him qualified to know something like that? Not that she was wrong, of course. Harry absolutely loved getting to use his magic again. In fact, since having his wand back, he almost understood why the other Harry refused to give it up; opting for the experimental potions instead of the muggle chemotherapy in the other world. If Harry had lived several years in a wizarding household like his counterpart had – being surrounded by magic during the summer, as well as the school year – his decision might have been different, or at least a little more difficult to make.

Thankfully, the timer for the scones went off, giving him a chance to think about how to answer her. Although they were building a relationship, he wasn't sure how much, if anything, he said there would be repeated to Snape. By the time he had the scone out of the oven, arranged neatly on a plate, and finished some basic clean-up to the kitchen – returned the unused ingredients to their respective places, set the dishes in the sink to hand wash later, and wiped up flour from the table; all done the muggle way – he had his response.

"I did miss it," Harry told her solemnly, retaking his seat next to her. He placed the plate of warm scones between them, then summoned a jar of jam and a knife. When they each had a pastry next to their cocoa mugs, he continued, "But what I miss the most is flying. There's nothing like the freeing feeling of racing through the air. Of seeing things from a perspective very few people get to because wizards still prefer apparating over flying.

"And Quidditch." Harry couldn't stop the grin from forming as he imagined flying around the pitch. "Hunting for the snitch and knowing I would get to it first. There's nothing like it."

"I'd love to see you play sometime."

"I won't get to play again," Harry replied, hoping he achieved a factual and unemotional delivery of the statement. "At least not really play. Using my wand is dangerous enough, and by the time I'm well enough to fly my friends will all be long out of Hogwarts. We talked about starting up a recreational group like you suggested a while back, but it could take years to get started, and by then who knows where we'll all be."

Mae didn't respond, which Harry appreciated, afraid she'd either take the pitying route – one she rarely used with him – or sound too optimistic, and therefore unrealistic. Instead, she placed her hand on his and they sat together listening to the quiet of the surrounding house.

"Follow me," Harry said, breaking their companionable moment. "Unless you're headed back to bed."

The loud scraping of Mae's chair across the floor as she stood from the table made them pause and listen for any movement on the second floor. Satisfied they hadn't woken up the other two occupants, Mae took their empty mugs to sink, rinsed them out, and held out her arm for Harry. "Lead the way."

Harry led them through the door of the kitchen back into the sitting room and onto the sofa. He handed her a silver blanket from the side chair, which she promptly used to cover her legs. In Snape's shirt, Harry couldn't ignore what had gone on after they all went to bed, but it was better than nothing.

Without preface, Harry went to the bookcase and opened the cupboard under the bottom shelf, revealing a small television. His wand helped him levitate the object from its hiding place in the cupboard to the table between the sofa and the unlit fireplace. After plugging in the ancient unit, he grabbed the remote and offered it to Mae as he dropped into the space next to her.

"Ah! He does have a telly!" She deviously exclaimed. "I love reading as much as anyone, and I've never seen someone read as much as Severus, but I knew there had to be something else to entertain you guys."

Harry laughed. "I think he only got it when I moved in last June. But I know he watches it when he thinks I don't notice."

"Sounds like, Sev."

Mae clicked the remote to flip through the short list of channels they received on the television, landing on an old sitcom Harry used to hear his aunt and uncle watching late at night as he tried to sleep in his cupboard. He wouldn't dare tell her about his connection to it, though. Those were stories he didn't like to revisit, and he knew made other people uncomfortable. No one wanted to hear about a kid being forced to live under the stairs and he didn't want their sympathy.

"Did you know Severus's birthday is coming up?" He asked her several minutes into the show.

"January ninth," she answered proudly.

Harry's hairless eyebrows lifted in shock. "I'm surprised he told you. I had to find out from someone else. Only three days before it, too."

"If it makes you feel any better, when he told me I don't think he expected us to still be together in January. And I bet he's regretting telling me too," Mae said with a twinge of mischievousness in her voice. "Do you guys usually do something for it? I imagine he prefers the day to go by unnoticed."

A warmth in Harry's chest spread out as he recalled the surprise party they had for him last year. Yes, Snape probably would have preferred the day to go by no different from any other, but by the end, he had enjoyed the event. And Harry liked to think the professor was better for it.

"Me and a few other students threw him a surprise party at school last year. That was the first birthday with him as my guardian," he explained. Being so lost in his recent struggles, he had planned nothing for Snape's upcoming birthday, and forgetting about the day itself filled him with guilt, but was made worse when he realized he wouldn't get to plan anything this year. "And if I remember my schedule right, we'll be checking into Guildford on the ninth for my next cycle. So, not much this year."

Harry's head rose to meet Mae's eyes when her hand rested on his shoulder.

"We could plan something for that night. Together. At the hospital," she offered, her words soft yet confident. "You won't officially start chemo until Saturday morning, and I think I've got a good in with Dr Swanson to convince her to let you stay out past visiting hours. I'm not sure how the whole magical people in the normal… er… non-magical… world works but I'm sure we can figure something out to invite anyone you think he'd like there."

Harry took a moment to consider her offer, not because he didn't want to celebrate Snape's birthday – if anyone deserved it, Harry knew Snape did – but because he was hesitant to mix his Hogwarts world and his hospital one, and having no real notion of what Snape talked about to other adults, his friends, regarding their stays at the hospital, he had to assume the typically hyper-private man would have a similar concern.

"Yeah," Harry blurted out, deciding before he could talk himself out of it. "That sounds great."

"Perfect! If you can handle the guest list and logistics there, I'll handle everything else." Mae's excitement radiated out of her and to Harry, leaving him pleased with his decision. "So, what kind of cake does he like?"