Severus nodded and she stepped out of his way. He had some planning to do, and a Weasley to contact, but first he had his apologies to make.

The first thing Severus noticed when he opened the door to Harry’s room was that the boy was staring down at his lap. There, the kneazle kit, Treacle Tart, lay on her belly, all her legs splayed in the air, except for one, which was curled around Harry’s hand, holding it to her belly so he could rub it.

They made quite a picture of contentment, actually, and the scene would have made Severus feel less horrible and inadequate as a father, if he hadn’t noticed the boy’s eyes were red and puffy from crying, and that he did not look up at Severus when he came in, as he almost always did nowadays. Clearly, Harry did think he was less than deserving of Severus’ care and interest, and all that was left to Severus now was to figure out how to make it up to his son.

He crossed the room quietly and eased down on the edge of the bed. “Harry?” he said softly.

Harry had tensed when Severus came in, and tensed even further when he sat down. His little hands were curled into fists, and he was holding his body so stiffly that tremors ran through it. He did not look up, but his voice came in a whisper, “Yes, sir?”

Severus did not address the ‘sir’ Harry used, since he only did so when he was very nervous, and Severus did not want to make it worse for him. Instead, he said slowly, “Harry, I am very, very sorry for what happened at lunch time.” There was a lump in his throat that he had to swallow past. To see his son so obviously afraid and needing reassurance, but unable to accept it, was heartbreaking. And he didn’t know what to do to make it better.

“I was wrong, Harry. I should never have yelled at you. I was the one who told you to stay on the couch, and I wasn’t even thinking about . . . You’re such a good boy, and you listened very well to what I said, and I didn’t even consider that you might listen too well, and that you might not use the toilet if you had to, because I’d told you one thing and then expected another.” He shook his head, aware he was babbling, for goodness sake, but not sure if his words were getting through, not sure if his words of earlier had been too harsh for him to ever be forgiven. He could but try and repair the damage, before everything was lost.

“I’m really very sorry, Harry,” he said again, his voice no louder than Harry’s own whisper now, though still tinged with desperation. It had taken so long for Harry to trust him, if he ever had, really, and Severus had crushed that burgeoning trust, manhandled it without considering how fragile it was, like the finest spun glass. Would he ever be truly worthy of the boy’s trust? Would he ever be able to regain it? “I love you, Harry. You’re my son, and I was very wrong. Can you ever forgive me?”

For the first time, Harry looked at him, one of the little, darting glances as had been his wont before Severus helped him realize he could look people in the face, and that Severus preferred it, in fact. But he looked, and that was a start. Then his teeth gripped his lower lip, and Severus wanted to ease the abuse bit of flesh from between them, but he was sure Harry would flinch away and did not want that to happen.

Another little glance, this time through his fringe, and Harry seemed to be considering something. Severus could only hope for the best.

“‘M’sorry, Daddy.” Harry’s voice was thick with unshed tears. And he had called Severus ‘Daddy,’ which Severus had noticed the boy did only very occasionally. He’d wondered about that, once or twice, but then realized he had told Harry that he could call Severus ‘Father,’ which the boy generally stuck to, except in times of great stress, when he reverted to the more casual name, one he probably recalled from living with his relatives; Severus could not imagine the great lump Dudley calling his own sire ‘Father,’ after all. “‘M’sorry f’r bein’ a freak.”

“Oh, no. No, Harry, you are not a freak. Not at all.”

“Am,” the boy said stubbornly, but his gaze was back on his hands, and Treacle Tart, who was curled around his arm, her great blue eyes watching Harry’s face solemnly. “I talked to snakes and lied to you, and peed and cried, too, like a baby. S’okay, Daddy, I know you don’t like freaks. You can send me back.”

Severus felt his face flush. “I will never ever send you back. I know it might be hard for you to believe, after what I put you through this afternoon, but I love you, Harry, and you are my son, and I am never sending you back to those awful people.”

“Even if I’m a freak?”

Severus shook his head, and wanted to reach for the boy, but made himself keep his hands still. “You are not a freak. You are a perfectly normal Wizarding child. You happen to have a talent that most other Wizards don’t have, but I’m sure other Wizards your age have talents that you don’t. Everyone is different, and we all have different skills.” He paused, took a breath, and waited till he thought Harry really was listening. “I’m very good at Potions, you know, which not everyone is. And also, remember how we’ve worked on keeping your nightmares away?” Harry nodded, and he continued, “That’s part of a skill called Occlumency, which I am also very talented at, but which very few other Wizards are. Does that make me a freak?”

“N-no, sir.”

“That’s right. And neither are you, just because you can speak to snakes. In fact, being a Parseltongue is a very useful skill to have.”

Another darting glance. “Really?”

“Really. Today, for instance, it is possible that the snake you met in your explorations might have been angered and bitten you or Treacle Tart, if you hadn’t spoken to him and made friends with him first.”

“But . . .” Harry nibbled on his lip. “But you said . . .”

“That the snake was dangerous, and so it was. But there’s no telling how much more dangerous he could have been if you had not spoken kindly with him.” Severus twined his hands together, to keep from touching his son. Harry was too afraid yet, for that, he was sure.

“So you’re . . . you’re not angry wiff me?”

“No, Harry.” Severus longed to brush the hair out of his son’s eyes, and pushed back his own instead, looking away for a moment to gather himself. “I am angry with me, since I was the one who behaved poorly. I put my classes and my potions ahead of my son, and I am ashamed of myself.”

“No, Daddy,” Harry whispered. “You’re good, not like me—”

“You are good, Harry. And you are not a freak. Remember what I said about that word.”

“I’m not to use it.”

“That’s right.” He swallowed hard, again. “Harry, I . . . please, I need to know that you forgive me, that you’ll give me another chance, let me prove I can be a good father to you. Will you do that for me?”

Harry gave a jerky little nod, and with a gentle push to get the kneazle off his lap, threw himself into Severus’ arms. Severus rocked back with the force of the little boy hitting his chest, and grabbed him tight, never wanting to let go. He pressed his lips to the boy’s hair and whispered over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry . . .”

“It’s okay,” Harry whispered back, patting him on the back as if he were the one that needed to give comfort, “It’s okay, really.”

Severus knew it wasn’t, still, not by a long shot, but he would take what he could get for now.

---

The rest of the afternoon and evening – as Severus had no further classes today – they spent together, with Harry on his lap as they read together from his favorite Quidditch book, and then a quiet dinner just the two of them . . . and Treacle Tart of course. Severus did not have it in his heart to tell the boy not to feed her from the table, since she had looked out for the boy on more than one occasion. This afternoon, for instance, knowing that Harry was in distress, she had obviously been trying to get Severus’ attention while he was in the lab. Unlike Severus himself, she seemed only to have Harry’s best interests in mind.

After dinner, as Harry finished with his pudding, very nearly licking the bowl of chocolate ice cream clean, he smiled impishly when Severus lifted an eyebrow in his general direction, a look Severus was very glad to see. He set down his bowl sheepishly, and Severus let the dishes be cleared away by the kitchen House-elves.

Clearing his throat, Severus said, “Harry, we need to discuss a few things.”

The boy’s face immediately went blank with fear, and Severus rushed to reassure him, “It’s nothing bad, you’ve done nothing wrong. We just need to talk about how we can better spend our days, so you’re better taken care of.”

“You can take care of me, Father.”

“I want to, Harry, you don’t know how much. But I also need to work, so we can continue to live here.”

Harry frowned. “Can’t we live at Spinner’s End?”

“I’d still have to work, though. I’d just be doing different work, and sometimes, not even at home. And I’d still need someone to look after you when I can’t be there.”

“But Nelli looks after me here. And Fern, too, right?”

“Not as well as I’d like. They’re used to older children, not to younger boys like you, nor to parents who want something different for their son than the son sometimes wants.”

Harry gave him a confused look, so Severus elaborated, “Sometimes, Nelli and Fern let you do things that I would not have let you do. I think it’s because they are used to being around children who are older, and who make most of their own decisions. For instance, I wouldn’t have let you go near the Lake at all that day, nor would I let you get away with only having a slice of apple and a few sips of milk at lunch. Do you understand?”

“I think so, Father.” Harry worried his lower lip between his teeth. “But Nelli is nice.”

“Yes, she is. But she is not an appropriate caregiver for you.”

Unaccountably, Harry’s eyes filled with tears, though they did not fall. “You’re gonna send me away.”

“Oh, Harry.” Severus squeezed his eyes shut against the ache in his chest. But he had to be the courageous one here, and so he opened his eyes and held the boy’s gaze. “I will never send you away. But you remember, how Draco was here with us for a week, and then Ron was? I was thinking that perhaps Mrs. Weasley could come and spend some time with us again, and bring Ron with her. And then, maybe you could spend time at her house, in return. Maybe we could treat it just like school, like your day school, remember? Perhaps go to their house during the day, and then I would pick you up when I am done with classes. Would you like that?”

Treacle Tart, who had been lounging under Harry’s chair for the last few minutes, now leapt into the boy’s lap again, as if sensing his unease. Harry petted her and rubbed one of her ears in between his fingers. The tension in his shoulders dissipated somewhat as a result. The lip went between his teeth again, though, until he said, “I don’t want to leave here.”

“It wouldn’t be for very long, Harry, and like I said, first, I would get them to come spend time here.” If they could. Severus would have to speak with Molly soon. Tonight perhaps.

Harry gave a hesitant nod, and Severus rushed to say, “If you don’t want to do it, we’ll figure something else out, I promise. I don’t want you to ever feel like you are in the way, all right?”

“Okay. It’s okay, Father.”

Severus wasn’t sure if that was the truth, but it was somewhere to work from anyway. “Would you like to read some more?” he asked, and Harry’s eyes lit up. “We can sit in front of the fire and have cocoa.”

“Yes, please.”

“Let’s get you into nightclothes first, all right, in case you fall asleep.” Severus smiled at the boy. “Since I realize my voice can be very soothing.”

“I don’t fall asleep," the boy protested, though he had done just that the last two times they’d read together of an evening. “I was just resting.”

“Of course you were,” Severus said, suppressing a smirk. “All the same, nightclothes first.”

“Yes, sir . . . um, Father.”

Severus nodded, and watched Harry scamper off to his room and hurriedly change before scampering back, book clutched tight in his hand. It was one McGonagall had given him, a dozen Wizarding Fairy Tales with bright colorful pictures and words in large enough print that Harry could almost follow along if Severus read slowly.

Once the cocoa was ordered up, they settled together in the easy chair by the fire, with Harry on his lap and nestled in the crook of Severus arm. Treacle Tart, on Harry’s lap, purred and kneaded his leg with her paws, though she kept her claws carefully sheathed, Severus was glad to see.

Severus leant his cheek alongside Harry’s hair, which was as dark and thick as his own, and kissed his head gently. He opened the book to the next story, as they’d read several already, and started, “The Tale of The Wizard’s Glove. Once upon a time . . .”

As predicted, Harry was asleep before they had made through the second story, but Severus wasn’t too surprised, as the boy had had a trying day. He carried Harry to his bedroom and settled him into bed, smiling slightly when the kneazle followed at his heels and then jumped onto the bed, to curl into the curve of Harry’s arm, half under and half on top of the blankets. Severus kissed the boy’s forehead, and smoothed his hair back from the lightning bolt scar. “Sleep well,” he whispered, letting his fingers linger on the pale cheek for a moment before he left to go make a firecall to the Weasley matriarch.

---

Molly agreed to Floo through immediately, and speak to him in person, which was very good of her, considering how late in the evening it was.

“Can’t get enough of me?” she asked with a grin as she settled her bulk in one of his armchairs.

Severus ordered up tea from the kitchens, and offered her some, which she accepted politely. “In a manner of speaking,” he said quietly, not in the mood for her teasing.

Her smile vanished, even as she took a sip of her drink. “What happened? Is Harry all right?”

Trust her to see into the heart of the problem. With a small sigh, he told her what had transpired that day, and he even confessed his own horrible behavior, willing to fully abase himself before her, so she would know how dire the situation was, and would be less likely to deny him what he needed. What Harry needed.

She was quiet for a long moment, when he was done, and sipped thoughtfully at her tea, watching him over the rim of the cup. Finally, she nodded. “Well, that’s a right mess, isn’t it.” It was not a question, and so Severus did not answer. “It’s obvious the House-elves are nearly worthless. I should have listened to Charlie. He mentioned as much. Never held much truck with House-elves myself. Far too wishy-washy for my tastes.”

Severus forbore to say anything about how helpful they were in the right circumstances, since that would not help his cause. Instead, he nodded. “You see my dilemma.”

Molly smiled knowingly. “You need someone to take care of Harry while you’re teaching classes. Someone who will care for him like their own child, who will watch out for him, and make sure he eats and doesn’t find trouble, and who will clean up any scraped knees he has, or scrapes he gets into.” She paused, finished off her tea, and gave him another smile. “Someone like me.”

With a sigh, Severus swallowed his pride; he would do right by the boy, if it took everything he had. “Yes. Please.”

“I would be glad to, Severus. I loved Lily and James, too.”

Severus opened his mouth to tell her that this was his son, not James’, and that she should love Harry on his own merits, like he did, but he closed it again with a snap. She would come to love the boy, too. She had plenty for her whole brood, didn’t she? “Good,” he said instead. “I spoke to Harry about the possibility earlier this evening. I know he . . . I mean, he is worried that my sending him to others for caretaking during the day means that I’m sending him away, and he is already insecure enough as it is. I was hoping . . . that is . . .”

“Spit it out, Severus. I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded, and said in a rush, “I would like you to be able to spend a few days here, maybe with your youngest boy, too, until Harry gets used to the idea.”

She was quiet again, considering his request, and Severus hoped she would agree that it was best for Harry. Finally she said, “I have Ginny at home, too, and the twins. None of them can be left to their own devices all day long.”

Of course. He’d forgotten. She had other responsibilities, just as he did. Slowly, he said, “You could, perhaps, bring the lot with you if you came. Just for a few days. I’m sure Albus would not mind. And it would give Harry an easier time of it, too, don’t you think, if he met your other children here, where he is already accustomed to being?”

Her gaze sharpened. “And you would amenable to this? To having my ‘lot’ underfoot for several days?”

“If it will help Harry, yes.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “You have changed, Severus Snape. And for the better, I can see.” She smiled then, a mothering kind of smile, as if she were going to take Severus under her wing, as well as his son. “I’ll talk it over with Arthur and let you know in the morning, all right? But one way or the other, I’ll be here tomorrow for the little dear. That way you needn’t worry about him.”

Severus let out a sharp breath. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“You’ll be all right, dear heart. It just takes practice is all, being a father, and you’ve been thrown into the middle of a boiling cauldron.” She nodded again, her gaze searching his face. “You know, Severus, all parents make mistakes. Even those of us with more practice than most. We just have to accept that they’ll happen, learn what we can from them, and move on. You’ll do all right.”

He nodded, not quite believing her, but then she leaned forward and patted his hand. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, then hesitated briefly before she added, “I know you want Harry to forgive you for what happened today, but . . . try to forgive yourself, too.”

He was still staring at the space she had occupied when she Floo’d home, still startled by her insight and her agreement to aid him.

It wasn’t long before his reverie in front of the fire was interrupted by cries from Harry’s bedroom, and he dashed off to help his son through another round of nightmares. As he held the boy, rocking him and murmuring softly into his hair that everything would be all right, that he would never leave him, he wished fervently that he knew better how to help the boy, and that he could be what Harry needed so desperately. He despaired at that moment, that perhaps he would never be adequate to the task, that he was not good enough or strong enough for his son.

But in the dead of night, as he finally got the boy back to sleep and went to seek his own bed, Molly’s words came back to him, and he knew he had to take them to heart or he would never make it through another day as Harry’s father.

Accept that mistakes would be made. Forgive himself.

Two of the hardest things in the world for him to do. And yet he would learn how, he had to. For Harry’s sake.