Milky Tea by myramcqueen
Past Featured StorySummary: Severus Snape knew a great many things about his adopted son.

Entry into the 2021 Winter Fic Fest, for the prompt 'Snape makes Harry tea'

AU, childfic, fluff
Categories: Fic Fests > Winter fest 2021, Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required)
Snape Flavour: Snape Comforts
Genres: Family, Fluff
Media Type: None
Tags: None
Takes Place: 0 - Pre Hogwarts (before Harry is 11)
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: Milky Tea
Chapters: 4 Completed: Yes Word count: 4391 Read: 7598 Published: 03 Dec 2021 Updated: 03 Dec 2021
Story Notes:

1. Chapter 1 by myramcqueen

2. Chapter 2 by myramcqueen

3. Chapter 3 by myramcqueen

4. Chapter 4 by myramcqueen

Chapter 1 by myramcqueen

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

The End.
Chapter 2 by myramcqueen

Harry swung his legs back and forth and looked around the quiet library again. He was starting to get bored.

Himself and Professor Sprout had spent the last couple of hours in the otherwise empty library, practicing his spelling.

It was going well, and Harry was fairly proud of the fact he now had ‘wizard’, ‘witch’ and even ‘wand’ down. And then Professor Sprout had received an urgent call – something had happened in the greenhouse and she needed to check on her latest crop of mandrakes immediately.

So she had left, giving Harry strict instructions to stay in the library and carry on practicing his writing until she returned.

There was nothing wrong with that – Daddy let him stay in the library and even the Great Hall sometimes.

But it felt like Professor Sprout had been gone for ages, and Harry was starting to grow tired of writing practice.

Besides, if he didn’t use the bathroom soon, he was going to be in trouble.

Hopping down from his chair, Harry wandered across to the main entrance of the library, peering out into the empty corridor.

There was no sign of Professor Sprout, and Harry figured he could probably make it to the bathroom and get back to the library before she returned.

Slipping out into the corridor, Harry hurried down the corridor toward the boy’s bathroom.

They were his least favourite ones in the school – they were always cold, and quite frankly, they gave him the creeps.

So Harry didn’t hang around, except to wash his hands of course – for twenty seconds, just like Daddy had taught him.

He had just turned off the tap when there was a loud pop behind him,  and Harry jumped out of his skin, catching his own reflection in the mirror before another figure appeared behind him.

 “Itty bitty baby all alone in the boy’s’es bathrooms!” it cackled.

Recovering from the initial shock, Harry exhaled.

He liked all of the ghosts in the castle, except for Peeves. He had never been fond of the poltergeist, whose antics – although sometimes funny – were more often than not downright rude and borderline vindictive. In fact, in the time since Harry had arrived at Hogwarts, the little man hadn’t been very nice to  him at all.

 “Leave me alone, Peeves,” the boy said bravely, just how Daddy had told him to after his first run in with the poltergeist over a year ago.  Harry still remembered it clearly – he had run into his Daddy’s arms and sobbed, terrified of the horrible spectre.

He wished his Daddy was there now, too.

 “What are you doing here all on your own, potty wee Potter?” Peeves demanded, floating closer to the child.

 Harry tried to ignore him, reaching up for a paper towel to dry his hands.

 “Where’s old snippety, slippery Snapey?” the poltergeist asked.

 “Teaching extra potions to Dean Fletcher,” he muttered, tossing the paper towel into the bin.

 “Poor baby Potter! Or is it Snape? Alone in the bathrooms, all bent out of shape! His new Daddy’s left him! Left him for dead! Daddy’s got a new son, a big boy instead!” Peeves sang, following Harry across the bathroom.

 “SHUT UP!” Harry shouted, stepping back out into the corridor and slamming the bathroom door behind him.

It didn’t do any good, of course – Peeves simply floated right through it, laughing like a maniac.

 “Did Peevesy hit a nerve, potty wee Potter?” he called.

Harry stomped back towards the library, ignoring the angry tears that were welling up in his eyes. The thing that he hated most about Peeves was the fact that the poltergeist was always able to figure out what he was thinking,  and had a fantastic ability of using it against him.

 “Your Daddy’s not your Daddy! He’s Dumbly’s puppet toy! Now he doesn’t want you, he prefers that bigger boy!” Peeves sang, hot on his heels.

 “I’m a big boy too!” Harry cried, furiously.

 “Potty’s just a baby! Peevesy heard it for himself! Daddy said he’s more annoying than a stupid housey elf!” Peeves taunted. “Daddy’s sending Potty back! Peevesy ought to know! Back to the muggles, in the cupboard you go!”

Harry stopped, turning to face the poltergeist again.

 “That’s not true! He didn’t say that…” he told Peeves, uncertainly.

 “Yes he did! Potty better run! Going back to the muggles won’t be much fun!”

His worst fears realised, Harry did exactly that – taking off down the corridor as fast as his little legs could carry him.

Daddy didn’t want him anymore. Daddy had grown tired of having a whiney little boy – he wanted a bigger boy, one who was a prefect and was really good at potions.

His relatives wouldn’t be pleased to see him, Harry thought, as he ran across the courtyard towards the astronomy tower, ignoring the snow falling thick and fast around him. They wouldn’t want him back – would they be as unkind as they had been previously? Perhaps worse?

They certainly wouldn’t read to him before bed, the boy realised, tearing down the rugged steps as Hagrid’s hut came into view in the distance.

Slipping on the ice, Harry tumbled several steps and landed hard on his hands and knees. He choked back a sob, examining the heels of his hands – bloodied and covered in dirt.

But he scrambled up and hobbled on. There was no use in crying. Daddy didn’t want him anymore, so he wouldn’t come and heal the cuts.  

The snow had already soaked him to the bone, and he had become very aware of the fact he wasn’t wearing his coat. But what did that matter now?

Harry continued down the slope, enveloped in his own misery. What if he was sick, and his Daddy wasn’t there to make him potions? What if he awoke from a nightmare, and he couldn’t get back to sleep? What would he do, now that he didn’t have Daddy to hold him and keep him safe?

He couldn’t go back to his Aunt’s house. He just couldn’t. He needed to hide out somewhere until he figured out what to do next.

Ignoring the numbness in his legs and the sharp pain in his side, Harry ran faster, past Hagrid’s hut and towards the Forbidden Forrest.

oOoOoOo

The End.
Chapter 3 by myramcqueen

Severus Snape put down the essay he had been marking and pinched the bridge of his nose.

It had been a long and trying morning, and he had missed lunch in order to catch up on the backlog of assignments that required his scathing comments in red ink.

He was just about to move on to the next one when the door of his office flew open, revealing a breathless Pomona Sprout.

 “Oh, Severus,” she wheezed, stooping forward slightly as if to catch her breath.

Snape just watched, completely taken aback by the entrance.

 “You better come quickly. It’s Harry,” she told him.

The potion master’s blood ran cold and he stood up.

 “What is it?” he asked, a thousand different scenarios running through his head. Was the boy sick? Injured?

 “I only left him for twenty minutes, thirty at most…” Pomona told him, frantically. “There was an emergency at the greenhouse… the mandrakes… would have lost the whole batch if I didn’t… He’s missing, Severus. Harry is missing!”

oOoOoOo

 

With the help of the other staff and the ghosts, the whole castle and its grounds were searched, long into the afternoon.

Eventually, they gathered outside Dumbledore’s office, to discuss their next steps.

 “Surely he can’t have gone far,” Minerva said, concerned. “The weather is far too poor for him to have left the castle…”

 “Clearly he has,” Severus replied, his mind frantic with worry. “The ‘point me’ spells are not working. We have searched this whole castle, he is gone!”

 “I just don’t understand it,” Pomona murmured, anxiously. “He was fine when I left the library… I don’t understand it…”

 “These things can happen when you leave a six year old unattended,” he snapped. “I trusted you to take care of him, you stupid woman! If anything has happened to him–”

 “Come now, Severus. I hardly think apportioning blame is going to help us find little Harry,” Dumbledore said, his voice irritatingly calm.

 “Then what will? The temperatures are sub-zero out there and the snow is four inches deep. It will be dark in another hour! Anything could have happened to him!” Severus cried, wondering if he was the only one who felt so desperate.

 “We do not have any evidence to suggest Harry is outside…” Dumbledore pointed out.

 “Then where is he?”

Minerva opened her mouth to respond, but winced as an apparition passed through her.

It was Nearly Headless Nick.

 “Headmaster,” he began.

 “Good evening, Sir Nicholas. Do you bring news?” Dumbledore asked.

 “None of the boy’s current whereabouts, I’m afraid. However, you may wish to locate Peeves. According to Myrtle, he accosted our young Harry earlier today in the boy’s lavatory. You won’t be surprised to hear that he was not very kind,” Nick told them.

Cursing, Severus Snape turned on his heel and strode off in the direction of the stairwell.

There was no sign of Peeves, of course, but that didn’t matter.

When he finally reached the abandoned girl’s bathrooms, he began moving from stall to stall, flinging open the doors, until he eventually found the maudlin ghost, in the final one.

Myrtle let out a shriek of indignation.

 “How DARE you! These are the girl’s bathrooms!”

 “How positively hypocritical of you. Were you yourself not in the boy’s bathrooms earlier on today?” Snape shot back.

 “That’s different. I’m DEAD! In case you hadn’t noticed!” Myrtle cried, letting out a wail.

 “Stop your incessant noise and listen to me. You were party to a conversation this morning between my… between Harry and Peeves, were you not?” he demanded. “I need to know what Peeves said to him.”

Myrtle huffed. “He was very rude. Just like you.”

 “My dear girl,” Dumbledore began, stepping up from behind the potions master. “Earlier today, little Harry Potter disappeared. It’s imperative we find him, and it would therefore help us a great deal if you were able to tell us what you know.”

Considering him for a moment, Myrtle floated out of the stall and up onto the ledge of the large round window, on which she often liked to sit.

 “I was just sitting in a U-bend, minding my own business, and Harry was washing his hands, when that horrible little man popped out of no where and started bothering him,” she said.

 “What did he say?” Snape asked.

Myrtle fixed him with a stare, before pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

 “He said that you didn’t want him anymore! That you were too busy with that other boy!”

 “What ‘other boy’?” he frowned, perplexed.

 “The prefect. The one taking the extra potions classes,” Myrtle clarified. “Peeves said you didn’t want a little boy anymore, and that you preferred a big boy instead. He told Harry you were sending him back to the muggles. And so Harry ran away, out of the castle. What a horrible, ghastly thing of you to do!”

With that, she let out another, blood-curdling shriek and plunged herself into the nearest toilet bowl, disappearing from view.

Snape watched after her for a moment in horror, as it began to dawn on him.

Harry wasn’t looking up to Dean Fletcher at all – he felt threatened by him! The boy had some how gotten it into his head that his father wanted to replace him with an older model, which explained the sudden desire to grow up overnight.

 “That’s why he didn’t want milk in his tea…” he muttered, aloud.

 “What was that?” Dumbledore asked, mildly.

Snapping out of it, Snape turned to look at him.

 “We have to find him.”

 “I agree. But alas, I believe we have exhausted our search of the castle,” Dumbledore sighed.

At that very moment, Moaning Myrtle re-emerged from the toilet bowl.

 “Haven’t tried Hagrid’s, have you? But then again, what would I know? I’m just ugly, moping old Myrtle!” she sobbed.

Casting another glance at the headmaster, Snape took off again.

oOoOoOo

 

 “Alright, alright! I’m coming!” Hagrid called, finally pulling open his front door and peering out. “Perfesser Snape? Perfesser Dumbledore?”

 “Good evening, Hagrid. We are terribly sorry to disturb you at this hour–” Dumbledore began.

 “–Is Harry here?” Snape interjected, cutting to the chase.

Hagrid frowned. “Little ‘Arry? He’s not here, Perfessers. I ain’t seen him today. What’s ‘appened?”

Severus let out a groan, feeling the last flicker of hope die inside of him.

 “I’m afraid our young Mr Potter has gone missing, following a run in with the rather unpleasant Peeves,” the headmaster explained. “Having searched the castle to no avail, we were rather hoping he might be here.”

 “I’m sorry Perfesser, I wish he was – FANG! Come back here ya bloody great beast!” Hagrid cried, as the huge dog barged past him, knocking Severus sideways and taking off in the direction of the trees, barking.

Snape scowled after the animal, brushing the snow from his robes.

 “Sorry ‘bout that. I’ll help ya look, just as soon as I’ve got that bloomin’ idiot back,” Hagrid sighed, grabbing a lantern and starting after the dog.

 “He could be dead,” Severus muttered, though it wasn’t clear whether he was talking to Dumbledore or to himself. “If he’s out here somewhere, he’ll catch hypothermia and–”

 “Now Severus, you mustn’t think like that–” the headmaster began.

 “What else would you have me think Albus?! The boy has run away, believing that I no longer… want him. That I am planning to send him back to those despicable excuses for human beings,” Snape retorted. “I should have known that something was bothering him. I should have–”

 “Perfessers!” Hagrid called, having stopped at the edge of the forest, several feet away.

The two wizards moved to join him, and Hagrid gestured to the ground, holding his lantern out in front of him.

The snow had long since stopped falling, but there on the ground, frozen into the white blanket of snow, was a set off little foot prints.

Taking out his wand and muttering a ‘lumos’ charm, Severus Snape began to follow the trail of footprints, into the Forbidden Forrest.

oOoOoOo

The End.
Chapter 4 by myramcqueen

Harry Potter didn’t think he had ever been this cold in his entire life.

Even when he had lived with his Aunt and Uncle, spending the winter months in the draughty cupboard under the stairs had not been as bad as this.

Truth be told, his plan hadn’t been very well thought out, and once he’d arrived in the Forbidden Forrest, it occurred to him that he didn’t quite know what to do next.

It had quickly grown dark, and Harry didn’t much like the scary noises coming from the deeper parts of the forest, so he had quickly taken cover in the narrow space beneath a large rock, which was jutting out of the ground, creating a ledge.

And he had been huddled as far back as he could go ever since, watching the shadows pass by and listening to the horrible noises.

It was cold. So cold.

Harry was starting to feel sleepy…

And that was when he heard it: footsteps, growing louder and louder.

 Pulling his knees up against him, Harry hid his face and held his breath, hoping that whoever – or whatever – it was would go away.

Closer… closer…

And then they stopped. Right in front of him.

Harry tried to make himself as small as he possibly could, and he tried to be really, really quiet.

Silence for a moment.

And then somebody reached out and touched him.

Harry recoiled, whimpering and shaking his head, too afraid to look up.

 “No… no… leave me alone. Want my Daddy…” he whispered.

 “I’m here,” said a soft, silky voice.

Stealing himself, Harry slowly lifted his head up, and his breath hitched in his throat. For there indeed, crouching on the floor outside of his little shelter, just out of reach, was his Daddy.  

 “Harry?” he said, gently.

Daddy’s voice sounded funny – a little shaky, kind of how Harry’s did when he was scared.

But his Daddy wasn’t scared of anything… was he?

 “Can you come out of there?” his Daddy asked.

 “P…please don’t send me b-back… Please. I’ll be a good boy,” Harry pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can be a big boy. I can.”

 “Please come out,” Severus urged.

Cautiously, Harry stood up and edged his way out from beneath the large rock – deciding there wasn’t much he could do now that he’d been found anyhow – and came to stand in front of his father.

His Daddy immediately took off his big, warm cloak and wrapped it around Harry’s shoulders, drawing him a little closer.

 “Please…” Harry murmured again, shivering violently now.

 “Listen to me,” his Daddy began, calmingly. “I don’t want a ‘big boy’, or even a boy who’s good all of the time. I only want my son, Harry, just exactly as you are.”

The little boy watched him for a moment in confusion, as if trying to decide whether this was some kind of trick.

 “But, Peeves said…” he began.

 “What have I told you about Peeves? He is an implacable, heinous whisp of air, and whatsoever he says should be taken with a pinch of salt,” Severus reminded him. He had repeated it so many times – it still surprised him that Harry could so easily forget.

 “But… but Dean Fletcher–”

“–Is my student. That is all,” he told the boy. “I’m sorry if you felt pushed out, or that I was spending more time with my students – that was never my intention.”

 “I like it when it’s just us,” Harry told him, softly.

 “As do I.  And I will never, ever send you back to your Aunt’s house. You belong here at Hogwarts, with me,” Severus assured him. “So, if you are agreeable, I would like to take you home and warm you up. Unless of course, you would rather stay here in the Forbidden Forrest?”

Harry shook his head, shuffling a little closer to his father. “It’s scary here. But I tried to be brave Daddy, just like you are.”

Exhaling, Severus pulled the boy against his chest and cupped a hand to the back of his head.

 “I did not feel very brave today, when I thought that I might never see you again.”

Burying his face in his father’s robes, Harry melted into him, choking back a sob.

Severus scooped the boy into his arms, standing up, and Harry held on tight, settling his head in the crook of his Daddy’s neck.

“Come on,” he said softly. “Let us go home. And perhaps, if you are done with being a big boy for now, we can read a book together before bed.”

 “The one about the winter elves?” Harry mumbled, referencing his favourite book of all.

 “The one about the winter elves,” Severus agreed. “And perhaps some hot cocoa, to warm you up.”

But Harry shook his head now.

 “No?” his father enquired.

 “Not cocoa. A cup of tea,” Harry whispered. “And Daddy? Can you make it? Not the kitchen elves. I like how you make it. With lots and lots of milk.”  

Severus nodded his head, the corner of his lip turning up into a rare smile.

One cup of milky tea coming up.

It was good to have his little boy back.

oOoOoOo

 

The End.


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