Strangely enough, the incident in the study marked a small turning point in the relationship between Harry and Tobias. Tobias was still gruff with the child, but he no longer regarded his grandson as an annoyance, as he discovered when Harry came downstairs the next morning, still rubbing his bottom. Tobias felt a twinge of guilt settle somewhere in the region of his breastbone. Surely he hadn't hit the kid that hard?

"Still sore?"

Harry nodded warily, wondering if his grandpa was still angry with him.

Tobias coughed uncomfortably, his conscience was reproving him with Eileen's voice now, the way she used to when he'd whipped Sev for something totally uncalled for, only this time he couldn't block it out or ignore it or drown it in alcohol like he used to do years ago. This time there was no escape from the voice that scolded him, yelling that he carried his discipline too far. Dammit, Toby, you were angry when you punished him and you hit him too hard, if he's still sore this morning. D'you want him to hate you the way his father does, you dumbass? He concealed a wince, for he knew only too well that his son hated him, and if he were being brutally honest with himself, he knew he had done much to cause his child to hate him, indeed the reasons Severus hated him were all his fault. He couldn't blame his son for not wanting to be around him, just as he had not wanted to be around his father once he was grown. It was why he'd moved from Yorkshire to London.

He eyed his grandson, wishing like hell he'd waited to punish the boy, he hated feeling guilty over something he couldn't change. Harry's emerald eyes stared back at him, uncertain and wary, like the eyes of a deer poised to spring at the slightest movement. Tobias looked away for a minute then quickly back. What the hell was happening to him? So what if the kid's bum was a little sore, it would remind him not to cross his grandfather in the future. And yet, and yet, his conscience was still pricking and poking at him, recalling memories he'd wanted forgotten, of how it felt after one of his father's thrashings, and the way his mother used to hold him sometimes and tell him to take a bath afterwards, it would soothe the welts.

Abruptly, he came back to himself with a start, and blurted, "Go and take a bath, Harry."

"Why?"

"It'll take some of the sting away. Don't argue with me, boy. Just do it."

"Okay, sir," and then he turned and went back upstairs.

It was a small thing, but it was the first baby step towards acknowledging that perhaps his treatment of Harry was a bit harsh.

In the days and weeks that followed, Tobias found himself paying more attention to Harry than he had previously, although this was mostly Harry's doing, since the child decided that even his grouchy grandpa was better than no company at all and began watching Tobias do things around the house.

Tobias had always been handy with tools and could repair things quickly, he was a sort of jack-of-all-trades, though his real love was working with wood. But his family never had money to send him away to school or apprentice him to a carpenter and so he picked up carpentry here and there, by reading or observing others at work. For a self-taught man, he was surprisingly good, and anything he built lasted for years. Woodworking had been his passion, until he discovered spirits and that need had obliviated anything else.

One evening Harry was washing the dishes, standing on tiptoe to reach the sink, and spraying water all over as a result. Tobias looked over and shouted, "Hey, kid! Watch what the hell you're doing, you're getting water all over."

"Sorry. But I can't help it," Harry cried, wondering if he were now in trouble. "I can't reach the sink. At home, Dad always lets me use a stepstool when I help him wash dishes and stuff."

Tobias grunted, then rose to his feet and nudged Harry away. "Clean up the water, I'll finish here."

Harry obeyed, getting a dry towel to wipe up the droplets of water scattered on the floor.

"A stepstool, huh?" the big man murmured, half to himself. "That shouldn't be too hard to make."

"Make it? Why not just buy it?"

"Because I can make one better than the cheap crap they sell in the stores these days," replied Tobias gruffly.

"You can? How?"

"With a couple of pieces of wood and a saw and a hammer and some nails."

"Neat! Can I watch?"

Tobias considered. Normally he didn't like anyone watching while he woodworked, he preferred no one gawk at him or ask dumb questions, it threw off his concentration. Then again, perhaps watching him might keep the brat out of trouble and learn something useful at the same time. He'd tried to get Severus to work with him, but his son had always been off doing some magic thing with his wife or had his nose buried in a book like a nerd.

"All right. You can watch, but only if you're quiet and don't ask me any dumb questions and stay still and don't touch anything. My tools aren't to be played with, boy, they're sharp and dangerous, so you keep your hands still, understand? Otherwise I'll-"

"-wallop the living daylights out of me?" Harry guessed.

"Exactly. So unless you want that to happen, you'd better behave."

"Okay sir. I'll be good."

Tobias finished drying the dishes, then led the way into his workroom, which was off the kitchen and had been kept locked until now.

Harry found himself in a medium-sized room which had a long workbench built into the wall and above it hung tools of various shapes and sizes. In one corner was a machine called a jigsaw, though Harry didn't know that and in another was a large sander and a bandsaw. On a table in the center of the room were small pieces of wood, mostly pine, oak, and maple. Larger pieces were stacked neatly against the wall along with a broom and a shovel. The whole place smelled of wood shavings and sawdust, though it was not unpleasant. Everything was very neat and orderly.

Harry heard the hum of an air conditioner and glanced up to see five light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, providing enough light for Tobias to whittle and cut anything he needed. Two folding chairs leaned near the workbench, his grandfather unfolded one, brought it to the table in the middle of the room and pointed to it.

"Sit there and don't move."

Harry slid onto the chair, his green eyes glowing with undisguised curiosity.

Tobias brought over the other chair and a selection of sharp knives and sandpaper and a ruler and a level and sat down at the table. Tobias poked among the small blocks of wood, at last selecting several lengths of maple which he then began to measure and mark with a graphite stick.

"See here, first you measure everything, that way you know where and how to cut it," he explained at Harry's curious look.

For the next hour, Harry watched avidly as Tobias cut and shaped the blocks of wood into four small legs for a stool. When he was finished with one leg, he set it aside on the table and began on the next one. At first, Harry was riveted to the spot, but soon he wriggled and leaned his elbows on the table. Sawdust swirled in the air above their heads.

"Sit up," Tobias ordered abruptly. "You want to get sawdust in your eyes? It hurts like bloody blazes."

"No sir."

"Didn't think so." He turned back to the leg he was shaping.

Harry sat up, but he eyed the nearly finished leg longingly. The maple had small golden streaks running through it and it looked soft and Harry's hand inched over and stroked it. The wood felt smooth and silky, even though Tobias had yet to sand it. He ran his hand over it.

Then he jumped when his grandfather smacked it. "Ow!"

"What'd I say about touching, boy?"

Harry snatched his hand back. "I just wanted to feel it," he pouted.

Tobis shot him a warning look. "Look but don't touch. Don't you understand English?"

"Yes, but I wasn't hurting anything."

"Doesn't matter. Would your dad let you touch his potion ingredients while he was making one?"

"No sir," Harry answered. Severus never even allowed him in the lab if he was brewing something complicated, and the one time he'd snuck in there, Severus had caught him and yelled at him, given him a swat and made him stand in the corner for fifteen minutes.

"It's the same here." Tobias then turned back to the wood he was carving.

Harry was still for a few more minutes, but sitting still was not something he was particularly good at, or rather it wasn't something he could do silently. "Who taught you how to do that? Your dad?"

Tobias bit back a laugh. Jeremiah Snape, carving wood! The old man was probably spinning in his grave at the mere suggestion. "The only thing my dad knew about wood was that you cut a tree to get it and burnt it for firewood. He was a coal miner, he worked the mine up in Yorkshire. No, an old man named Jim taught me how to whittle wood, lived down the road a piece. The rest of it I picked up here and there." He picked up some sandpaper and began to sand the leg he was working on.

Green eyes followed him intently.

"Can I help?"

Tobias almost was going to say no, but then he recalled old Jim letting him occasionally sand the little animals he'd whittled out of scrap wood. Tobias had been eight, only a little older than Harry. "Okay, kid. C'mere."

Harry jumped off the chair and ran over to him. Tobias picked up one of the legs and handed Harry a piece of sandpaper. "Hold the leg like this and then rub the paper up and down in a smooth motion." He took the youngster's hands and positioned them upon the wood and the sandpaper, then showed Harry how hard he had to rub. "Like that. Got it?"

"Yes sir. I can do it myself."

"Independent little brat, aren't you? Just like your father," Tobias drawled, but for once there was no real bite to his tone when he said that.

Harry returned to his seat, industriously sanding the block of maple.

Tobias watched him for a moment to be sure he was doing it right, then turned back to choosing the wood for the step and top of the stool. He wondered how long it would take for the kid to get bored and run off.

The soft shush of the sandpaper filled the room and Tobias rose and went over to another stack of wood, picking through it for the right sized piece. He would never admit it, but he actually didn't mind the company, especially now that the kid was behaving and doing something useful instead of just running around causing trouble.

* * * * *

The stepstool his grandfather had made him was perfect for reaching the counter, Harry thought happily a week later, as he used it to climb up and reach the biscuit tin Tobias kept to the right of the sink. Tobias wasn't strict like Severus about mealtimes and snacks, and Harry took full advantage of this and ate biscuits and sweets whenever possible, one reason why he was so hyper during the day.

Tobias hadn't figured this out yet, and Harry wasn't about to tell him either. So he gleefully reached into the tin and took two rather large chocolate chip shortbreads, then climbed down and put the stool back in the corner where it belonged.

Then he poured some milk in a little glass and ate his two biscuits at the table. Tobias was outside, trimming the hedges or some other weird grown-up chore, and he had told Harry to go inside and fix himself a snack if he wanted, since today Dumbledore was coming to take them to St. Mungos to see Severus again. "We'll grab a bite while we're there for lunch or whatever, but if you're hungry now, go make yourself something while I finish these hedges. Damn things grow like ivy," Tobias scowled at them and turned back to wielding the shears with vengeful purpose.

Harry was excited at seeing his father again, he'd drawn him ten new pictures since the last visit and he wanted to hang them up on the wall near Severus's bed, so he'd see them first when he woke up finally. He'd told his grandfather and Uncle Al that it was just like the art wall at home.

The folder with his pictures was sitting next to him on the table and Inky was sprawled atop it, ready to go on the trip as well. Harry rarely went anywhere without the panther, it was his security toy, purchased for him just before Lily had died by his mother. Severus kept it looking new by casting mending charms and freshening charms on it, so its fur wouldn't fall out and it wouldn't smell musty or dirty.

Finishing his snack, Harry ran outside to see if Tobias needed any help, he was sick and tired of being inside, it had rained nearly the entire week before and Harry had been stuck inside driving Tobias crazy until the man taught him how to play cards and checkers, recalling the old board he'd made years ago for Severus and put away after he'd gone off to school. He had also shown Harry the pictures in the shoebox, which he had found after Eileen had died and saved to remind him of the few years they had been happy, before the shipping company Tobias had worked for went bankrupt and he'd been unable to find work and turned to drinking as a means to dull the pain of failure. After that, it had been rare that he'd been completely sober and had moved from one job to another, barely making ends meet. He'd been a frustrated angry son-of-a-bitch back then, and his son and occasionally his wife paid for it, he'd thought with regret.

But there was no sense in dwelling on the past. What was done was done and couldn't be changed. "Regrets fill no bank account", was an old saying of his mother's, who had died when Tobias was eleven, leaving him and his brother Evan to be raised by their strict father, who treated Tobias much the way he had treated Severus. What was important was now, and right now Tobias's grandson was tugging on his sleeve, asking hopefully, "What're you doing, Grandpa? Can I help? It looks like fun."

"Fun? Trimming hedges isn't fun, boy, it's work," the older man snorted. Then he pointed to all the sticks and pieces of foliage scattered about. "Pick those up and put them in a trash bag if you want to help so much, Harry."

"Okay!"

Harry ran around picking up all the sticks and leaves eagerly, happy to be helping out like a grown-up for once. He was finished in a matter of ten minutes and Tobias told him to go in and wash up. "You're sticky and dirty, kid, now get!" he scolded when Harry pouted. "You can't visit your dad looking like a refugee, change your shirt too."

"But this's my favorite shirt," the six-year-old whined.

"Harry Severus, don't make me count to three," Tobias warned softly. That was yet another tip he'd picked up from Carl Middleton. "Now go up and change your shirt."

"Fine!" Harry huffed, turning and stomping back into the house.

"Lose that attitude, boy!" yelled Tobias. "Or else you'll be over my knee."

"Sorry," he tossed back half-heartedly over his shoulder.

Tobias went to put away the shears and wash up himself, the old wizard ought to be here any minute now.

Sure enough, just after Harry had put on a clean shirt and Tobias ran a comb through his hair, trying in vain to make it lie down flat, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" shrilled the little boy, and raced to the door, happy to escape the comb.

He threw open the door and cried, "Uncle Al!"

Dumbledore stepped into the house and Harry threw his arms around him. "Hello, Harry! How are you?"

"I'm good. I helped my grandpa make a stepstool, he carved it himself and I sanded it and then I helped him pick up sticks and do you think my daddy will wake up today?" Harry said, practically all in one breath.

"It sounds as if you are getting along well with your grandfather," Dumbledore said, pleased.

Harry nodded. "He teaches me things, like how to play checkers and stuff, and that's fun, but sometimes he's mean."

The old wizard arched an eyebrow. "Mean? In what way, child?"

Harry squirmed, then said quietly, "He, uh, he spanks me when I'm bad sometimes. And it really hurts!"

To his surprise, Dumbledore chuckled. "It wouldn't be much of a spanking if it didn't hurt, child. Did you deserve it?"

Harry nodded reluctantly.

"Ah, well, child, my grandfather used to do the same to me once upon a time."

"Really? You mean you were bad too, Uncle Al?"

"I'm afraid so, Harry," laughed Dumbledore. "I was a mischievous scamp, like most children are, and when I was naughty, my grandfather spanked me."

"Ow! Did he use a belt?"

Dumbledore shook his head. He didn't want to tell Harry that his grandfather had used a hairbrush, he winced to this day in remembrance. "Does Tobias?" he asked in concern.

"No. But he says he might if I don't shape up."

"Child, saying and doing are two different things." Dumbledore said calmly, thinking that if Harry had answered that question differently, there would have been problems. As it was, Severus was going to be none too happy when he awoke and found Harry living with Tobias, there would have been hell to pay if Tobias was abusing Harry. But Dumbledore saw no sign of abuse, Harry was well fed, clean, and acting like a normal six-year-old.

"Harry, will you let the man in the door before you start pestering him," called Tobias, sounding faintly exasperated.

"I did, Grandpa. He's in the house."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at the boy's remark, and Tobias just rolled his eyes, a gesture reminiscent of his son. "C'mere, let me put on your jacket, Harry." he beckoned the boy over, holding out a bright green jacket.

Harry trotted over to him and while the child's back was turned and Tobias busy assisting the boy with the coat, Dumbledore cast a swift diagnostic over the boy. It came up perfectly normal, and the old wizard heaved a sigh of relief. He would have felt dreadful if Harry had shown any signs of being hurt.

"All right, we're set," announced Tobias, shrugging into his own jacket, for it was bit windy today, despite the sunshine.

"Wait! I gotta get my pictures and Inky," Harry exclaimed, then ran over to the kitchen table and snatched them up. "Okay, I'm ready, Uncle Al!"

He ran back over to them, grinning happily, for he loved it when Albus Apparated with him. Unlike some people, Harry did not get sick or dizzy with Sidelong Apparition and neither did Tobias, or if he did, he never showed it.

The Headmaster picked Harry up in his arms and grasped Tobias firmly by the shoulder before he concentrated and then they were gone in a flash of bright blue light.

They emerged just before the doors to St Mungos, Albus had explained that it was safer Apparating before a building then into it directly, unless you had a designated Apparition point beforehand inside, since people walking about could interfere with a wizard Apparating and result in a nasty accident.

"Kind of like a head-on collision," Tobias surmised and Dumbledore nodded, knowing enough of the non-wizarding part of the world to understand where Tobias was coming from.

Harry was so excited to go and see Severus that he was practically spinning like a top. "Hurry up! Why do grown-ups take forever to go somewhere?" he cried, tugging on Albus's hand impatiently.

Tobias reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Now you just hold on a minute, Mr. Impatience. There's no need to go racing about the hospital like a little hooligan. People are sick here and need their rest, not to be woken up by a hyper brat running down the corridor. So you just calm your little butt down, boy, and walk next to us."

"Aww, but Grandpa, you all walk too slow!"

Dumbledore had to turn away to keep from bursting out laughing.

Tobias frowned sternly down at his grandson. "Harry, that'll do. If you can't walk down the hall like a big kid, then I'll treat you like a baby and carry you over my shoulder."

"No! I can walk myself," cried the child, plainly horrified at the threat. "I'm not a baby, I don't need to be carried."

"Then I suggest you behave, Mr. Potter. Because if not, everyone will see you being treated like a baby, and maybe even smacked like one too."

"No! No, please. I'll walk slowly," Harry cried, aghast, putting a hand over his bottom, as if afraid Tobias would swat him right then and there.

"Take my hand," ordered his grandfather, and Harry obeyed.

Then the three walked calmly and sedately down the corridor to the information desk, where Dumbledore informed the witch on duty that they were here to see Master Healer Snape and signed their names on a clipboard.

"Have a nice visit, sirs!" she called cheerfully after them.

Dumbledore led them up the stairs to Severus's room, which looked more like a hotel room than a hospital room. This was because Severus was one of the staff's own, and therefore got the best sort of room and top-notch care as well, which was not to say that the other patients were neglected or anything, but simply that Severus was given the best of everything since he was their Master Healer and well-respected.

There were deep blue curtains at the window, which overlooked the park, and the walls were done in a serene eggshell blue. The bed was spelled to conform to the sleeper, so they would never wake up stiff or sore, and so were the pillows. There was a small table, two very comfortable wing recliners, and a nightstand upon which rested a glass with a straw and various potions and a special cream to prevent Severus's skin from getting too sore and dry from remaining for days in a bed, even one that was magically kept cool and the sheets were changed twice a day.

The wall opposite the bed was decorated with Harry's artwork and there was a vase of fresh flowers upon the table. It was cozy and homey and it was a pity Severus was not awake to appreciate it.

When they arrived, they found his attending physician, Healer Morgan, performing a set of exercises on his comatose partner designed to keep his muscles flexible and limber, so they did not atrophy. He was working on Sev's hand at that moment, bending and flexing all the Healer's long fingers gently and placing a rubber ball in his palm and squeezing the hand about it several times.

"Uncle Matt!" shrieked Harry as soon as he crossed the threshold. He shoved Inky and the folder on the table and climbed up on the bed next to the blond Healer and his father. "Hi! Did you miss me? What are you doing with daddy?"

Matthew turned and gave the boy a one-armed hug. "Hi, scamp! I missed seeing your trouble-making face around here all right. I had no one to blame when something went wrong," he teased, smirking. "And right now I'm playing a little game with Sev called flexing and exercising." He demonstrated, flexing the Potion Master's wrist up and down ten times.

"Oh? Why?"

"Because your dad's sleeping so long, we don't want his muscles to become all weak and limp, like wet noodles," answered the Healer. "So we do exercises like this to keep him strong."

"Oh. Can I try?"

Healer Morgan shook his head no. "Sorry, buddy, but this is a job for a certified Healer. You could hurt your dad if you aren't careful, which is why I'm doing this and not one of my nurses." Harry's face fell. "But you can help me brush Sev's hair if you don't mind." He paused in his ministrations to summon a brush and hand it to Harry.

Harry took it and crawled to the sleeping wizard's head and began to tenderly comb the dark hair. "I'll be real gentle, Dad," he said softly, drawing the brush through the silky locks. "I won't pull when there's a knot, promise." He was true to his word, stopping each time the brush encountered a knot and detangling it with his fingers.

"Very good, Harry!" Matthew praised, then spoke to his partner. "You've got a very compassionate son there, Sev. You ought to be proud of him, buddy. Now, let's start on the elbows, mate." He began to bend and stretch Severus's arm firmly yet gently, working the muscles well so they were not totally useless.

"How long is it before he wakes up, do you know, Doc?" asked Tobias, a note of concern creeping into his tone.

Healer Morgan didn't answer for a moment, waiting until he had finished fifteen reps before replying, "Well, the swelling on his brain has gone down greatly and we've managed to mend a good deal of the initial bruising using a new potion developed by Sev himself." Matthew's lips twitched into an ironic smile. "Ironic that Sev's the first patient we ever used it on so far. But it worked exceedingly well, not that I'm surprised, Mr. Snape, because your son's a bloody genius, as I'm sure you know."

To Tobias's surprise he felt a sudden surge of pride in Severus, this was the first time he'd ever heard anyone acknowledge his son's achievements or seen the results of them, and he found himself longing to whisper in his son's ear that he was proud of him-something he'd never said to Severus ever.

"Yeah, Severus has always been brilliant, got top marks in every school he ever went to." Unlike me, who skived off every chance I got and barely squeaked by. School bored me silly, and I'd rather get whipped than stay in class, which happened as soon as I got home and my father found out I'd cut class again. That had been one of the few times Tobias recalled actually deserving a thrashing, though he'd always resented his father for it, since Jeremiah had not even graduated secondary school, being forced to leave and work in the mine. He supposed, looking back, that his father had wanted his son to get the education he never had, but Tobias was rebellious and stubborn and hadn't cared about school then.

"Figures. Around here we call Sev the Scholar, ‘cause he knows the damn Healer Codes and the formulas inside out and invents new spells and potions practically every day. It's been . . .really rough not having him up and about these past months," Matthew admitted, coughing slightly. "All his patients are very concerned, ask about him constantly, send him cards and flowers and gifts, we've put most of them in storage to show him when he wakes up."

"When will he wake up, Uncle Matt?"

"It's hard to say, Harry, but hopefully soon."

"You always say that," whined Harry petulantly. "I want it to be now. He's missing my whole summer."

"I know, kiddo. I know it's hard, seeing him still asleep like this. It's hard for me too," Matthew admitted softly. "But you can't give up hope, Harry. He's getting better every day, it's just a long slow process."

Severus's son gave the Healer a mulish scowl, clearly not happy with that response. "Why? You can do magic, Uncle Matt, so why can't you just fix him?"

Tobias had been wondering that same thing also, and he waited for Matthew's reply eagerly.

"Because, Harry, fixing up a person, even with magic, is not like fixing a broken watch or a stuffed toy. People are a lot more complex and delicate. If I sewed a stitch wrong on a toy, say, all I'd have to do to fix it would be to pull the stitch out and start over. But if I made a mistake on a person, I could kill them, so we have to be extra careful and sometimes, Harry, it's better to let time heal someone. Not even magic can cure everything, kiddo. Though we come pretty close."

Harry peered at his sleeping parent and said, very softly, "I bet if my magic were awake, I could heal you, Daddy. You said once that in order to cast a spell you have to really want to, and I want you to get well more than anything, even more than a real broom, even more than a puppy!"

Dumbledore smiled at the boy, who was gazing at his father with such fierce devotion it brought tears to the sentimental wizard's eyes. "When Severus wakes," he deliberately used the word "when" and not "if", not wanting to dash Harry's hopes or Tobias's either, because he could sense the other man was very concerned over his son, despite being estranged from him for years. "-will you be able to tell if he suffered any memory loss or other trauma?"

"Yes, although we can tell right now that he hasn't suffered any memory loss and his dreaming patterns are normal too. We had one of our best staff empathy psychologists read Sev, and she swore Healer's Oath that he was not brain damaged permanently."

"But you don't know for sure?" Tobias pressed.

"Well, Mr. Snape, the human mind's as complex as the body, and given it's Severus, his mind's more complex than most, so it's hard to be one hundred percent sure. But we'll know as soon as he wakes up."

He gently turned Severus on his side and began massaging and lifting his legs, bending his knees, rotating the ankles, making sure the blood was circulating properly. Once he was satisfied, he rolled Sev onto his stomach and began to massage his back.

Harry resumed brushing Severus's hair then, running the brush through the blue-black strands until Tobias asked him if he wanted something to eat. Harry considered, then nodded, slipping from the room to get lunch with Tobias.

Dumbledore waited until the two had departed before questioning Matthew again. "Was there any damage to his magic, Matthew?"

"No, as far as we can determine." Then the Healer asked a question of his own. "Have you caught the ones responsible yet?"

"Unfortunately, no. But the Aurors are out in full force and eventually we will identify them and send them to Azkaban," Dumbledore said chillingly, with a look in his eyes that promised a swift death if he found them first. Severus was very like a son to him and he was terribly protective of the younger man. "And then they had better pray that I am not a judge at their trial."

Matthew shivered involuntarily at the dark tone in the wizard's voice and counted his lucky stars Dumbledore had never looked at him that way. Then he said with a quiet chuckle, "You know, Sev's patients really love him. We had a seven-year-old kid come in here yesterday and sit there, holding his hand and begging him to get better. The kid told him he'd let Sev give him a dozen needles in his bottom if only he'd open his eyes. And this is coming from a kid who's absolutely petrified of them and has to be restrained magically when it comes time for Sev to give vaccinations, he's kicked and bitten Severus more than once, to his mum's mortification. Last time Stevie's mum threatened to spank him if he didn't behave for us, right in front of everyone in the office."

"I take it that worked."

"Yeah, he let Sev get as far as an alcohol swab before he started to shake too badly and he had to resort to a Body Bind. And yet he volunteered to get shots to make Sev better. Amazing!" Matthew laughed. He patted his friend on the shoulder, continuing his massage. "I wish you'd come back, Sev. You'd get a real kick out of all the care packages and what not and I can't wait to see the look on your face when I tell you about Stevie! And here you were sure the kid hated your guts and would be pleased if you drowned yourself in your cauldron one night."

Dumbledore chuckled and said quietly, "He is loved more than he knows."

Matthew nodded. "If only that were enough to heal him, damn it all!" He gave the wizard lying in the bed a fierce glower. "C'mon, Snape, get your act together and come back to the real world. Before the hospital falls apart. You know it will without you there to whip all of our lazy arses into shape. Nobody can browbeat the potions crew into getting test results done in less than two days the way you can."

Sadly, Severus did not respond to Matthew's words with anything more than a soft sigh and the Healer shrugged and said, "Anytime you're ready to wake up, Snape, I'll be here. And so will that hot new Healer Apprentice Amy Turner, who thinks the best medicine for you is a kiss, mate! She's got eyes only for you and you aren't even awake to see her!" Matthew sighed in longing. "Maybe I ought to get myself mugged and in a coma, I might get some hot woman to feel sorry for me then. You've all the luck, Snape!"

Matthew finished the massage, applied the cream to Severus, spelled several potions into his stomach, cast a diagnostic, then pulled the covers back up and said, "I'm finished here for now, Albus." He made several notations down on Sev's chart with a silver quill. "If there's any change, you know where to find me, in my office trying to get through a mountain of paperwork."

The busy Healer departed then and soon after Harry and Tobias returned. Harry immediately climbed up on the bed and snuggled next to Severus, resting his little head on Sev's shoulder. "I ate chicken nuggets for lunch, Dad," he informed his father casually, holding the older wizard's hand. "And Grandpa let me have a milkshake too. I made you another picture too."

He continued talking in this manner, telling his father what he had done with Tobias and concentrating at the same time, trying to summon his dormant magic with all of his heart. Please, please! Help me make daddy get well. He felt a strange thread of fiery energy run through him, but it did not appear to have any effect on Severus that he could tell. Disappointed, tears welled in his eyes, but he quickly turned and wiped them away with the hem of the sheet. He was no coward crybaby. Sorry, Daddy. I tried. I'll try again next time.

He felt a sudden headache coming on and he felt tired and cross for some reason.

Tobias rose and came over to them, saying, "It's time to go, kid. Visiting hours are nearly up."

"So? I wanna stay here."

"We'll come back soon. Now say goodbye, Harry," Tobias instructed with a touch of firmness.

"Nooo!"

"Harry," Tobias said warningly and gave the little boy a Look.

"Okay," Harry said quickly, he knew what the Look meant-behave or else! He bent and kissed Severus on the cheek. "Bye, Dad. Love you forever. See you soon." Then he held out his arms to his grandfather, who picked him up and held him.

"What's this, boy?"

"M' sleepy. And my head hurts a little."

"Sounds like someone needs a nap," remarked Dumbledore softly, then took hold of Tobias's arm. "Get well soon, Sev."

Tobias leaned down and let his fingers brush Severus's forehead. "You may not believe this, but I really hope you wake up soon, Sev. Harry and I miss you."

Then Dumbledore Apparated away with them and reappeared on the Snape's front porch. Tobias unlocked the door and they all went inside.

But once they were home, Harry wanted to be put down. He was sulky and cranky, refusing the asprin Tobias offered, and the dreamless sleep potion the Headmaster wished to give him. "Harry, this might make you feel better," urged the old man.

"No! Don' want it! Leave me alone!" he cried, then turned and ran upstairs.

Tobias stared after him. "Sometimes I just don't know what gets into that kid. He's a moody little brat all of a sudden."

"I think most of his moods come from fear and frustration that his father is here and yet not here. It's a great deal for a little child to comprehend."

Tobias nodded in understanding. "Hell, it's a lot for me to understand, and I'm an adult. What should I do?"

"Perhaps you might talk with him or hold him, children his age need reassurance that you still like them even when they act up. I think he's cranky because he's tired and upset. You might try reading to him, Harry always enjoys being read to, it might put him to sleep."

Tobias looked doubtful. "I guess so . . .uh, would you care for a drink before you go, Headmaster?"

"No thank you, I am fine. I shall see you both next month, unless Severus regains consciousness. Farewell."

Once the old wizard had vanished, Tobias headed upstairs to deal with his grandson.

Harry was flopped on his bed, pouting and worrying that his words to Uncle Al had gotten him in trouble. Tobias didn't like it when he talked disrespectfully to adults and he wondered if the man were going to take him over his knee. He sniffed, feeling sorry for himself. He hadn't earned a spanking in a long time (a month was long to him), and he really didn't want to get one now.

So when Tobias entered the room, Harry looked up at him warily and asked in a small voice, "Are you mad at me, sir?"

"A bit, yes. I taught you better than that, Harry. You don't yell at an adult that way, no matter what. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir. I'm sorry." He peered up at Tobias through thickly fringed lashes. "Are you gonna spank me?"

Tobias didn't answer for a minute, instead coming to sit on the bed. "I should. But I won't, this time. You're tired and out of sorts ‘cause you miss your father, so I'll let it slide. But only this once, mind. You pull this attitude with me tomorrow, young man, and your bottom's going to be very unhappy."

"I'll be good," Harry promised. Then he rolled over and Tobias began to rub his back, which Harry found very soothing.

Even so, fifteen minutes later, Harry was still awake and Tobias asked if he were hungry.

"No. I can't sleep."

"Hmm. If . . .if I read to you will you fall asleep?"

"Uh-huh."

"All right, here goes," he plucked a book from the shelf and began to read the story of the Too-Trusting Unicorn. Tobias couldn't do voices like Severus, but he did read with a certain amount of emphasis, and not just a monotone. He actually did quite well, if only Harry had known, since this was the first bedtime story he had ever read to a child. When Sev was a child, he'd never had the time or the patience to tuck his son into bed and read to him, that had been Eileen's job. By the time he'd turned the last page, Harry was fast asleep.

"Well, I'll be damned. It worked!" He got up and replaced the book, patted his grandson on the head, and then left the room. He glanced back to see Harry sleeping peacefully, one hand curled about Inky, and smiled slightly. I guess that wasn't too bad. Maybe I'll do it again tomorrow night. He suppressed a sigh of regret, thinking of how he might have done that with Severus long ago, and if it might have made a difference.

What's done is done, Toby. Just try not to make the same mistakes with this one as you did with Severus, he reminded himself and then went downstairs to watch a bit of TV before turning in as well.

* * * * * *

Back in the hospital, silvery motes of magic swirled around the comatose Severus and began nudging the wizard infinitesimally back towards consciousness-a son's love accomplishing what all of the Healing mysticism and treatments could not.