“Harry, would you like to come and live with me?” he questioned, emotion making his voice thick.

But before Severus could form another question to help the boy in making his decision, Harry locked eyes with him once more.

“Yes sir.”

Severus balked at this. Was the child serious? “You may not be returning for quite some time, Harry.”

Green eyes stayed locked with black, “I know, sir.”

“And you are content with that notion?” Severus asked, hesitating a bit.

Harry’s eyes then darted to the entryway to the sitting room and then to his hands in his lap, never returning to Severus’. His small, whispered reply came a few seconds later, after what seemed like careful deliberation, “Yes sir.”

Severus noted Harry took a small breath, as though he was going to continue speaking, but another sentence never came. Severus then waited a few more seconds to be sure the child had nothing to say before he stood, moving past the small boy to the arch that led into the hallway to find the Dursleys standing with gleeful faces close to the entrance. “Harry will be coming with me. Can he visit his room to pack his things?” he asked smoothly.

Petunia, elated, handed a small backpack to Harry who had moved into the doorway after his father. This was puzzling to Severus; surely the boy had more toys and clothes than that? “Is that all you wish to bring?”

Harry gave him a tiny nod without even looking inside.

Severus pressed, “You do not wish to bring anything else?” Surely the boy has more possessions than what can fit into that bag?

Again, Harry gave him the tiniest of nods, eyes peeking out from under his fringe to glance at his aunt and uncle. Severus found this extremely odd, but perhaps the Dursleys were worse to the boy than he had originally thought. “Do you not desire to check your room for any errant possessions?”

“No sir,” came the reply, so soft that Severus almost missed it. Deciding not to press Harry further at the moment, Severus let the matter drop.

“Alright then, say goodbye to your aunt and uncle.”

“Goodbye Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon,” came the small polite reply and the boy then looked back up at Severus.

Curious about Harry’s response, but eager to get out of the house, Severus directed an abrupt nod in the general direction of the Dursleys and moved toward the door. Once outside, Severus realized how short a time it had taken him to collect Harry, the sun was just sinking below the horizon. He went around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for Harry before going to the driver’s side and getting in himself.

~*~*~*~

Harry sat in stunned silence as the professor, no his father, drove away from number four Privet Drive. I have a father. I’m going to live with him; I don’t have to live with the Dursleys anymore. It seemed almost too good to be true and Harry half expected to wake up any minute only to find himself back in his cupboard, his Aunt Petunia banging on the door, telling him to mind the bacon.

But Harry was shaken out of his thoughts as the car pulled into a house not unlike number four at the end of Privet Drive. Mrs. Figg’s house?

“Harry?” came the soft question from Harry’s right. “You are to stay inside the car for a few minutes. I will return shortly.”

“Yes sir,” he replied, keeping his feet in his line of vision where they were positioned by his backpack. Only when he heard the quiet noise of the door closing, did Harry look up. He could see the Professor walking toward the front door, knock, and a few seconds later, Mrs. Figg open the door. After the Professor disappeared behind the newly closed door, Harry looked around the front yard of his caretaker.

He remembered Mrs. Figg well from last summer when his Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley went to visit Aunt Marge for a week. Harry was made to stay with Mrs. Figg and although she wasn’t unpleasant, it could have been more enjoyable for sure. But then again, anything was better than the Dursleys. But is that true? Just because he’s my father doesn’t mean anything…the Dursleys are my family too and they don’t love me as much as they do Dudley. How can I be sure that he will even like me? He said that I do freakish things because I’m a wizard, but what if I’m not supposed to do them? What if he’s worse than Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon?

Harry was looking dejectedly out his window at the grass when it seemed to shimmer a bit. Curious, he rolled down the window and stuck his head outside to get a better look. At first, he couldn’t see anything but then the grass moved again, and a tiny green and black head stuck up above the foliage. Siles! What are you doing here away from your tree?

The little snake pushed himself up further from the ground, letting his tongue flicker in and out. I came to look for you…thosse boyss were not pleassant in the park.

Worried, Harry asked, Did they hurt you?

The snake shook his head hesitantly, Nothing that hasssn’t happened before, boy.

Glancing up at the door, Harry questioned Siles, Will you be okay or do you want to come with me?

The snake looked around and tilted his head back up to Harry. Taking a few more seconds seemingly to consider his options, before he answered, Yesss, I think I will go witth you.

Harry quickly opened the door to the car and unzipped his backpack a little, instructed Siles to hide in there until Harry had a chance to put him back outside, and to be quiet. Harry didn’t know how the Professor would react to having a snake in his car and hoped he didn’t find out.

Not two minutes later, the Professor came back out of Mrs. Figg’s house, leaving Mrs. Figg standing in the doorway with a happy smile on her face and began walking towards the car. Spying Harry in the passenger seat, Mrs. Figg gave him a little wave which he returned. Staying with Mrs. Figg had gotten easier with time, Harry realized, and she really was a nice old woman.

Realizing that he had only a few more seconds until the Professor made it to the car, got in, and drove Harry off to who knew where, Harry began to panic. He didn’t know this man. He didn’t know for sure that he was his father. He didn’t know where he lived, and he didn’t know that he would be better than the Dursleys. But after listening to his heart beat at three times its normal rate, the blood pounding in his ears, blocking out all other sound, Harry realized that it didn’t matter. No, he didn’t know who this man was, but he would find out. He didn’t know for sure that he was his father, but they looked a lot alike. He didn’t know where he lived, but presumably, that’s where they were going. And he didn’t know that he would be better than the Dursleys. But, Harry reasoned, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon weren’t that bad. I could deal with them no problem…and I won’t give him any reason to get mad at me.

With this thought still in the front of his mind, Harry kept his eyes to the floor, not looking up as Severus came and sat in the driver’s side of the car. Within a few seconds they were driving down the end of Privet Drive and through the city of Surrey, Harry fingering his beige trousers, keeping his eyes firmly on his hands as they twisted and untwisted the material as Severus cast periodic, cautious glances over to his son, who was attempting to calm his erratic heart, slow his rapid breathing.

Within a half hour, Harry was panicking again. They had been driving for quite a while in complete silence, Harry too afraid to ask the questions that were burning in his mind. How did the Professor know Mrs. Figg? How much longer were they going to be driving? Where did he live? He couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere other than at his hands, which had finally stopped their sporadic twisting of his trousers, but were left coiled in the fabric. Harry tried to make his hands loosen again, but couldn’t. And so he continued to stare at them as his thoughts ran away once more.

Why did Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia never tell me that I was a wizard? And why did they have to lie to me about how mum and dad died? Or, just mum, Harry thought, refusing to allow his eyes to travel to the Professor sitting next to him. And how did he know Mrs. Figg? Is she a wizard too? Then why didn’t she tell me I was one? I wouldn’t have let on to Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon or anyone. I wonder what they talked about. She did seem really happy to have him there.

As Harry was wondering about his caretaker, he heard a soft noise coming from somewhere around his feet. Attempting to keep as relaxed as possible, Harry simply stared at his backpack. It moved the smallest amount with another noise being issued forth from its depths. But after a few more terse minutes in which Harry was intently hoping that the Professor hadn’t noticed, the bag fell silent and still.

Harry leaned back into the seat of the car, letting out the breath he had unconsciously been holding, and moved his eyes up through the front window. The day had turned into dusk and the small houses the car was flying past with ease sat warm and inviting on lush green lawns. Harry turned his head as he let his eyes droop a tad, looking out the passenger window at the scenery.

~*~*~*~

Harry’s silence was both a blessing and an irritation to Severus as he steered the Volvo through the streets. Are little boys not supposed to be constantly fidgeting? Are they not extremely loud and rambunctious? Not that Severus really minded…it was more that he was worried. He had never come into contact with a child, especially a boy of ten, who was as withdrawn and secluded as this one was. His mind running wildly, Severus thought of the possibilities. Perhaps he is simply wary of me. I do after all, seem to have that effect on students…and occasionally other professors, he added as an afterthought, a smirk of delight present on his face.

He schooled his features as he cast yet another glance towards the small boy seated in the passenger’s seat. Perhaps he feels as though he must behave extremely well in order to gain my favor. Severus thought about this. He did seem tremendously well behaved at his relative’s residence and they seemed eager to rid themselves of him. Is it possible that he is the worst behaved child in the history of the planet, so like James, and was simply tired of the discipline his relatives attempted to bestow upon him that he decided to come along with me, hopeful to gain his own way? Severus dreaded the change in personality that would transform this small, quiet, withdrawn boy into one of extreme craft and annoyance.

But that day was not today, or so he hoped, and cast another glance to the passenger seat. This glance made him wary of his son. The boy was sitting with his hands entangled in the material of his trousers, his gaze set on the knapsack at his feet. What would Severus do when that day did come, though? He shuddered to think about it, how would he be able to discipline this child? He had no formal training in the ways of children; he was almost constantly confused by them. Assuredly, punishing Harry at his home would not be as simple as giving him a detention, either. However, not wishing to dwell on the fears of the future anymore, Severus instead turned his thoughts to the reaction of one Albus Dumbledore.

The wizened old wizard would certainly be furious with Severus for taking Harry without first discussing the situation with him, but Severus really didn’t give a damn. What did it matter what Dumbledore thought? Harry is my son and I’ll not let the Headmaster have any influence over him…unless he sorely needs it. Severus almost groaned at the thought. What would he do if he couldn’t take care of the boy? What if Harry is just like James Potter? How would he handle it? What if he couldn’t handle it? Stop getting ahead of yourself, there is nothing to be concerned about, not now. I will simply deal with it as it develops.

But these thoughts gave him little comfort as he took a fleeting look at Harry again, now seemingly relaxed, looking out the passenger window of the car. They were still a good half hour away from Spinner’s End and Severus was growing disgruntled with the continued silence. Clearing his throat ever so slightly, Severus turned his head towards Harry.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, his voice level.

The fleeting look of panic unsettled Severus as Harry looked quickly at his face and then stared at his hands on the steering wheel. In a few moments Harry’s face lost its slightly scrunched look behind his overly-large glasses and shook his head, only then returning his gaze through the window.

Severus nodded in return. “We are about thirty minutes to my home in Spinner’s End,” and returned his full attention to the road.

Lost in his own thoughts, Severus almost forgot that Harry was in the car. That is, until they rounded a corner, causing Harry’s sleeping form to tilt and fall into Severus’ shoulder. The sudden contact startled Severus more than he would have expected and broke Harry from his slumber. He began muttering apologies to his hands in his lap while Severus was attempting to determine an appropriate response. But the moment passed where it would have been fitting to supply a reply, so Severus merely nodded his head, hopeful that Harry at least noticed the movement with his head bowed as it was.

Not too much later and Severus was parking the Volvo on the side of the street near the driveway to his home on Spinner’s End. Out of the side of his vision, he could see Harry glancing cautiously about at the surrounding houses. Quietly letting out a small sigh, Severus asked him, “Are you ready?”

Again the look of panic flashed across Harry’s face, but this time it lingered for a few seconds. Severus kept his face impassive, saying, “I would prefer to sit inside the house, rather than in the car, and I am certain you feel the same. It was a long trip,” he added with quick movements to open the door. It wasn’t that he disliked sitting in cars when there was no need; he simply wanted to get Harry inside as quickly as possible.

The sooner they were inside, the quicker they would be within the protection of the wards. The closer Harry would be to being asleep in his room. The quicker Severus would be able to brew some potions and empty his mind.

~*~*~*~

As soon as Severus started unbuckling his seatbelt, Harry scrambled to do the same with his. He didn’t quite have it apart when the Professor was standing on his side of the car, and so Harry felt bad that he had to wait for him, as it was clear that the Professor wanted to get inside.

The Professor was walking really fast, too fast for Harry to keep up without jogging after him, on his way up to the front door of the house. It was a good thing Harry thought to put his arms through his backpack because he didn’t make it ten feet jogging in his too-large trainers before he fell to the ground. The stones that made up the walkway to the front door were small and uneven, with corners sticking up out of the ground.

As soon as he went down, Harry let out a little gasp. He’d scraped his knees pretty badly and the palms of his hands began to burn as well from when he’d tried to break his fall. Before he could really try to stand up, though, the Professor was grabbing his tiny bicep and pulling him to his feet. Harry kept the second gasp in. His arms were still bruised from his last encounter with Uncle Vernon and Severus’ long fingers gripped around it easily. After he began to walk towards the house again, Harry tried to still his hands which were itching to rub his arm; surely the bruises would be a darker color tonight.

Severus opened the door just as Harry was coming to stand on the top step, ushering him in with a hand as he held the door open. Harry stepped in cautiously, not knowing what to expect. But the house seemed well put together, granted it wasn’t as spotlessly clean as Aunt Petunia’s was, especially the kitchen which depicted worn cupboards and an older-style stove. Harry wondered if he were going to be required to clean, although he couldn’t find anything blaringly out of place. Granted that never stopped Aunt Petunia from shoving cleaners and flannels into his hands to scrub uselessly at something for hours.

Harry was startled out of his thoughts as he gave a little jump at the sound of the door closing behind him. So he was really here, then.

The Professor moved in front of him then, speaking as he continued to walk through the small living area to the kitchen, “This is where we will be living until the new term begins at Hogwarts.” There was that word again.

“This is the kitchen, where you will be expected to attend meals each day. Would you like to eat something now or wait until after I show you the rest of the house?” Severus asked from behind an island countertop to Harry, who was still standing in the middle of the sitting room.

Harry began to panic, wondering which answer was the right one. Sometimes when he said he wasn’t hungry, the Dursleys would withhold food, and him being hungry never bothered them anyway. How would the Professor react to an answer? Instead of chancing it, Harry simply shrugged with a little nod of his head, his eyes on the dingy carpet. Let him decide what he wants to do.

Harry only looked up when he heard movement in front of him, “Upstairs is your room, along with a bathroom.” He had to move fairly quickly to follow the Professor through the house on his make shift tour, but not as fast as when they were outside. When Harry reached “his” bedroom, he was unsure what he was going to find. But without hesitating, the Professor opened the door and stepped inside, gesturing for Harry to enter, just as he had done before.

Harry stepped in tentatively, his eyes traveling throughout the space. It certainly wasn’t a cupboard. A chest of drawers stood in one corner. There was one window with a fairly wide ledge to sit on, a desk and drawers down its sides and a chair. All the furniture, along with the headboard to the bed was done in a rosy redwood; the cushions and bedding were a deep burgundy with silver embroidery. Harry stared in wonder at the room, no, my room. But why would he do this? The Dursleys never would give me my own room, that is until I no longer fit into my cupboard, I suppose. Maybe he’s just being nice to me at first. When he finds out I’m a freak he’ll make me stay in another room, or in the basement or garage.

“The bathroom is through that door” Severus added, pointing. “You may place your things in this bureau. Come back downstairs in fifteen minutes for dinner.” With a nod, the Professor then made his way past Harry, pulling the door behind him, leaving it ajar a few inches.

Harry let out a big gust of breath. He didn’t want to do anything wrong, so he started right towards the highboy to put away his things. Unzipping the knapsack revealed a small green and black head. Harry had forgotten all about Siles.

Siles! I’m sorry you had to stay in there for so long, you can come out now.

The snake slowly made his way out through the hole in the zipper, his tongue flicking in and out rapidly. What is this place?

This is where I live now, Harry answered smoothly, more smoothly than he would have thought possible.

Siles’ eyes grazed the room, Do you have anything to eat?

Harry shook his head no, but made his way over to the window. We’re on the second floor, but there’s a tree right here. I could hold you out to it and you could find your own food outside if you want.

Siles seemed to shrug and made his way over to where Harry stood, now attempting to open the window as silently as he could. In just a few minutes, he had the window open far enough that he could lean out while sitting on the windowsill. After sitting down, he reached for Siles who, understanding, moved closer to Harry’s hands, gliding his smooth body through his fingers. Harry straightened up easily and began to lean out the window. But he had misjudged the distance of the tree from the house. Just a little bit further, he leaned a little more and felt his center of gravity begin to plummet out the window. Grabbing the window with his left hand, Harry found he could steady himself enough to keep his right hand semi-steady. Once he had found his balance again, he urged Siles to move off his hand to the branch closest to them.

Siles did so without any hesitation, apparently uncomfortable with the height of the window. Only once he was safely on the branch with his body wrapped around several times, did he turn back towards Harry who was still half-hanging out the window to deliver his appreciation, Thankss boy.

No problem, siless. Sstay nearby, ok? Harry concluded nervously. Siles was his only friend here and he didn’t want to lose him.

Yess, I will, boy. Time for a nice juicy mouse…

Harry climbed back into the bedroom, and closed it again as quietly as he could. He then placed the clothes Aunt Petunia had packed in his backpack into the dresser. There were two other nice shirts with collars, one other pair of pants that didn’t have any holes in them and Harry’s other clothing that he always wore at the Dursleys. He sighed; at least he had more than just the nice clothes that he was wearing now. All his clothes fit into the bottom drawer of the bureau, and since he didn’t have a closet, Harry moved to put his knapsack into the middle drawer. He pushed aside an extra pillow and blanket, wondering if it was ok for him to use the drawer. Glancing at the clock on the wall above his head, Harry figured he still had ten or so minutes until he was expected to be downstairs for dinner.

The Professor seems nice enough so far, hopefully I can stop anything freaky from happening. Harry plopped himself onto the bed, leaning back into the softness of the comforter. He thought that he probably shouldn’t be up here; surely the bed wasn’t for him to sleep on. After dinner, the Professor would give him a cot to set up in the room; beds weren’t for freaks like Harry. But still he laid there, his arms stretched out from his sides; his feet dangling off the edge. Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the way his body dissolved into the bed.

Harry knew he shouldn’t be on the bed. He’d been told as much from his aunt and uncle; that’s why he slept in the cupboard under the stairs. But there were days when the Dursleys went out and Harry snuck into Dudley’s second bedroom to play his videogames, and once Harry even went into Dudley’s real bedroom and accidentally fell asleep on his bed. That was the first time he ever got a lashing from Uncle Vernon, or at least the first time Harry could remember.

Seconds ticked by…I should get up and go to dinner…if I’m late, the Professor will get mad…he’ll surely punish me. It was this last thought that forced Harry to move, he didn’t need to be punished the first day he arrived. The Professor would send him back to the Dursleys, or worse, an orphanage. Harry’s blood ran cold through his veins, making him shiver and jump to his feet and scramble out the door. He almost tripped at the top of the stairs at the end of the hallway. Only the thought of being left at the bottom of the stairs, his body broken after a fall, made Harry slow his steps.

He turned into the kitchen, glancing at the clock hanging above one of the cupboards by the window, good, I’m early. Harry moved towards the Professor who was stirring something in a pot on the stove, to stand nearly beside him, waiting to be told what to do.

~*~*~*~

Severus was surprised to find Harry standing beside him, facing the pots and pans on the stove. Realizing he needed to say something to the boy, he said, not looking away from the vegetables he was stirring in one of the medium-sized pots on the stove, “Fetch two plates from the cupboard just to your right,” giving a slight nod in that direction.

Feeling satisfied with dinner, Severus took the plates from the boy’s slightly grubby hands and set them on the counter next to the stove. “Wash your hands in the sink here.”

Harry moved quickly to comply, reaching over the side of the countertop to turn on the water, subsequently grabbing the soap from beside the sink. Severus watched from the corner of his eye with little interest, but these subtle requests showed that the boy was eagerly sucking up to him…and he didn’t know how to properly wash his hands. Inwardly, Severus sighed. This was going to be a long night.

After Harry had partially dried his hands on a towel hanging near the sink, Severus pointed towards a drawer on the other side of the kitchen, “Retrieve silverware from that drawer and set the table.”

Once Harry had returned to his side, Severus handed him two glasses from a top cupboard near his head and motioned to the fridge, “There is a pitcher of milk on the bottom shelf.” Assured by the boy’s hard grip on the pitcher, Severus knew he wouldn’t drop it and moved back towards the stove to serve up their plates. Harry returned to his side after a few seconds, and Severus handed him the plate to place on the table. The boy returned dutifully for the second plate which contained a smaller amount of food for him. Severus turned and made his way towards the table where he sat, pouring two glasses of milk.

After Harry had not returned to the table, Severus twisted in his chair to find him crouched on the floor, the plate held in one hand with the other systematically and quickly picking off pieces of food to be popped in his mouth.

What is wrong with the boy? Surely he has better manners than those? Crouched in the corner like a rabid beast? He obviously has no respect for propriety, and cringed at needing to instruct Harry in the most basic of table manners.

His irritation at a maximum as Harry continued to eat in the corner, Severus snapped, “What are you doing?”

Harry’s head shot up, his eyes connecting with Severus’ for a fleeting moment, then returned back to his plate. His hand was currently poised over the remnants of his dinner, covered in the sticky sauce Severus had poured over the chicken, his mouth hanging slightly open with partially chewed broccoli and cauliflower in plain sight through his lips which were also coated in the marinade sauce.

“Are you attempting to make me ill, digging into your food like some sort of wild animal?” Severus balked at the now cowering child in the corner of the kitchen. “What is wrong with you?” he continued, his voice gaining in volume, “Is this how you would act with your relatives?” Severus stared the little boy down, his face a stony mask of exasperation, the confusion hidden below its carefully constructed layers. Is he merely testing my patience? I am assured he knows how to behave, and thus it rests on me to straighten the boy out.

~*~*~*~

Wild animal? Is this how I act at my aunt and uncle’s house? What is he talking about? Harry was so confused. How am I supposed to act? Maybe it’s because he didn’t start eating yet. I was supposed to wait until he had started, or maybe even finished eating, Harry berated himself. That was stupid, why did you have to start eating so soon?

Harry was staring at his coated fingers as Severus spoke again, “Do you believe yourself too important to sit at the table with me?” Harry scrambled for a response.

“If you cannot act like a civilized being, you will remove yourself from the vicinity,” Severus continued in a near growl.

Harry looked dejectedly into his plate. After a few seconds, he heard the Professor heave an almost silent sigh followed closely by the scraping of his chair across the linoleum floor. Harry almost gasped in surprise as a big, pale hand grabbed his plate, setting it above his head on the counter. The hand came back with its pair and reached Harry under the armpits, standing him up on a stool in front of the kitchen sink.

~*~*~*~

Severus sighed; surely the boy could not be that thick. It was truly disgusting what he was being subjected to, and on Harry’s first night here. Oh, how I do look forward to tomorrow, he thought to himself as he stood up and moved his way towards Harry. Severus stooped and snatched the plate from sticky fingers, placing it on the counter. After conjuring a stool in front of the sink, Severus reached down to pluck the boy off the ground. He stopped himself after Harry noticeably flinched away from his hands, and scrambled further into the corner. What is wrong with the boy? He eats off on his own in the corner, without utensils and refuses to be touched? Sighing once again, and hopefully for the last time that night, Severus directed his pointed finger toward the stool, a slight glare set on his face.

Harry, apparently understanding, stood. He scooted around Severus, as though trying to ensure he stayed just out of arm's reach, finally making his way to stand on the stool. Severus first rolled up his own white sleeves of Muggle attire he had been wearing since this morning and then moved to do the same with Harry’s. But he must have sensed what was to come, for Harry rolled up his own sleeves, using his sides, as to not get any sauce on them. On his own, Harry then turned on the faucet, subsequently reaching for the soap and began washing his hands.

Hmm…perhaps he is not as dense as I previously imagined. Just as Harry was turning off the water, Severus brought the towel to his small hands. While Harry was drying them, Severus wet a flannel and handed it to him next. He then wiped his face clean of the sticky marinade, and placed the flannel in the sink.

Satisfied, Severus moved back towards the table, gesturing towards Harry’s own plate. “Retrieve what remains of your dinner,” he ordered tersely. “I expect you to behave as you would with your aunt and uncle in your presence. I will accept no less,” he said, his voice less harsh now as he sat down.

Once Severus realized that only silence met his request, he shifted in his seat once again to find Harry staring at his plate, his face scrunched up in deep contemplation.

~*~*~*~

What did the Professor mean? “Behave as if you were at your aunt and uncle’s?” What did he think he was doing? What did he want him to do? Harry didn’t realize how long he was standing in the corner of the kitchen, staring dejectedly at his plate until Severus cleared his throat.

With a slight glare set on his stoic face, Severus gestured towards Harry and then to the chair on the adjacent side of the table. He wants me to sit at the table? Harry just stood, dumbfounded at the chair as though it were the most perplexing thing he had ever seen. Why? Why would he want me to sit at the table?

Harry’s eyes snapped to Severus’ face when he began speaking. “Bring your plate to the table and sit.” His voice was enough to make Harry want to hurry. He practically threw his plate onto the table and scrambled onto the chair as fast as he could. Severus reached over and moved the plate to where Harry could reach it, as well as his glass half-filled with milk. Harry stared up at his guardian with expectant eyes.

~*~*~*~

Severus looked into those green eyes. So green. He blinked rapidly a few times, trying to dispel the memories that were threatening to surface, and looked down at his own plate.

“Eat,” he said simply, reaching for his own utensils that were set out by Harry earlier. Harry complied, clumsily taking his fork into his hand, carefully stabbing a piece of cauliflower and just as carefully, placing it into his mouth. Perhaps there is hope for the boy after all, Severus reflected, still baffled at the boy’s earlier behavior. But this he shrugged off as he continued to eat his dinner, carefully watching Harry out of the corner of his eyes.

They sat in silence, contemplating their futures as well as their pasts, but choosing to focus on the hope of tomorrow.