Severus Snape knew a great many things about his adopted son.

In the year that he had spent with Harry since liberating him from his relative’s ‘care’ at the age of five, Severus had learned that children could be very complex beings.

Initially, this notion had seriously made him question what he had signed up for, and those first few weeks had been a whirlwind of frustration, horror and downright misery, during which it had occurred to Severus Snape on several occasions that he may not be cut out for fatherhood.

But as time went on, and little Harry settled into his new life at the castle, as he began to trust his guardian and became more receptive to being treated as a child as opposed to a house elf, Severus found that the two grew into comfortable companionship.

Over the months that had followed, the potions master began to realise that children weren’t always so complex at all – or at least, his wasn’t. And this was how he came to know a great many things about his adopted son.

He knew that Harry loved sweets and apple bobbing, but all in all, was actually a little frightened when it came to Halloween.

He knew that Harry loved to watch the snow out of the window, from the comfort and warmth of their quarters.  Harry loved the idea of playing in the snow too, but when it came down to it, his little fingers got so cold that he rarely lasted more than 10 minutes before he was begging to go back inside.

But recently, and most importantly, he knew that Harry liked to think of himself as a ‘big boy.’

Harry loved to drink tea like a big boy, except he didn’t really like it – not unless Daddy made it extra milky.

Harry loved to read like a big boy too, and when Severus settled down on the sofa with the latest copy of ‘Potions Monthly’, the little boy would sit beside him and mimic his actions whilst flicking through one of his own story books. But Harry was barely six, and Severus knew that he couldn’t really read very well at all. He also knew that what Harry really loved was their quiet time each evening, when he would choose a book for Daddy to read to him, and more often than not, would fall asleep against the older man’s chest.

Harry was always very proud to tell the other Hogwarts staff that he could go to sleep in his own bed like a big boy. And he could. Except Severus knew that he would wake in the night, and could never get back to sleep unless Daddy stayed with him and stroked his hair.

And most of all, more than anything else, Harry loved it when Daddy picked him up and held him. Although Severus knew better than to do this in public nowadays, on account of the fact that Harry was a big boy, and only babies got carried.

Yes, Severus Snape knew a great many things about his adopted son.

What he didn’t know, was what had gotten into Harry in the run up to the festive season.

He wasn’t sure whether it was the boy’s age, or whether it was simply a phase, but he found himself battling over the most ridiculous things more and more.

On Monday, Harry had refused to allow Severus to help him tie his shoelaces, resulting in a two hour stand off and a missed N.E.W.T class.

Yesterday, Harry had insisted on doing his writing practice all by himself, an incident which culminated in a spilt inkwell, a ruined piece of parchment and a rather large tantrum.

As for this morning…

 “I’m not going to ask you again, Harry. I’d like you to drink your tea please,” Severus told the boy, who was glaring at him across the breakfast table.

 “No.”

 “Why not?”

 “Don’t want it,” Harry informed him.

 “Would you care to expand on that? You asked the kitchen elves to bring you tea, and they brought it for you – just how you like it,” Severus pointed out, casting a disapproving glance in the direction of the tea cup, which contained a liquid so pale that one might have mistaken it for pure milk.

 “That’s how I liked it when I was a little boy,” Harry told him. “I’m a big boy now. I don’t need to have milk in it.”

 “I can assure you that you will not enjoy the taste of tea without milk,” his father told him.

Harry folded his arms, muttering something under his breath and scowling so deeply that – had he not been thoroughly irritated – Severus might have been proud.

 “What was that?” he asked.

 “I can have a bit of milk, just not too much,” Harry said told him.

 “Oh, is that so?” Severus confirmed, unable to hide the sarcasm from his voice.

 “Dean Fletcher doesn’t drink milky tea,” his son muttered.

Ah. That explained a lot, Severus thought.

Dean Fletcher was one of the slightly more tolerable students in Slytherin house.  A prefect, the boy was hoping for a career in potions, and so Severus had, reluctantly, agreed to provide him with some additional tutelage this year.

Consequently, Harry had been spending a lot of time around the older boy, and it was only natural that he had perhaps come to see him as some form of role model.

 “Well, if it’s good enough for Dean Fletcher…” he sighed, as he admitted defeat and banished the milky tea. It was replaced thereafter with tea of a much darker colour.

Harry sipped the hot drink, and it was evident from the expression on his face that he wasn’t enjoying it one bit.

Watching him silently, Severus arched a brow.

 “What, Daddy?” the little boy demanded, placing the cup back down.

 “I hardly think that ‘what’ is an appropriate way in which to address one’s elders. However, in response, I was merely pleased to see that you were enjoying your tea so much,” Severus told him, sardonically.

 “I am. And I’m a–”

 “A big boy. Yes…” Severus concluded with exhaustion, standing up as there was a soft knock at the door. “That will be Professor Sprout, who will be overseeing your lessons this morning whilst I am working. Please ensure that you behave.”

Harry nodded his head, taking another big gulp of his tea, as if to prove a point.

 “I will be back before lunch,” Severus told him.

Harry waited until his father’s back was turned before he spat the tea back into the cup.

oOoOoOo