Lunch had been a rather mild affair.  Sandwiches were simple and not too far out of reach of his rather fatigued mind.  It was a good thing so many potions had been brewed the previous evening, because glory knew he would be of no use brewing anything today.  He cast a glance at Potter, trying not to grimace at the sight of him wolfing down his tuna.  The Weasleys had indicated a slightly difficult evening, but to his admittedly tired eyes the boy looked to be in satisfactory condition.  He had even grinned at the sight of his lunch – who knew tuna salad could inspire such joy?

Currently acceptable condition or no, clearly Harry had been concerned enough to confess his fears to the Weasleys.  Severus couldn’t help but be bothered by this on several levels, but chose to focus on the lingering of these fears of abandonment, rather than nagging voice in the back of his mind that seemed to take pleasure in reminding him of his own inadequacies in the parenting department.

Why else would he so easily confess his fears to Arthur Weasley when he continues to deny them to my face?  When every admittance is a weakness?  Does he continue to fear me? Does he not trust me?

He had thrown the last of his mangled sandwich to his plate with a sigh when a quiet cough came from his side.

“Can I take your plate, sir?”

Well, it had come to this had it?

“One night away and you are back to trying to serve me, Potter?  Back to ‘sir’?” He did not think about the appellation he would rather have heard.

“Well, you’re back to ‘Potter’.”

Severus could not keep from sighing.  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to steady himself.  “Too true.  It would seem we are both out of sorts.  You must excuse me, I had a rather – late night.  I will take care of my own plate and you take care of your own, Harry.”

So, with a rather frustratingly searching look, his ward backed away to take his dishes to the sink.  That’s when Snape noticed the state of his clothing.  The child was a disaster.

“What on earth happened to your clothes?  You look like a little --”

He caught himself just in time, recognizing that one of his mother’s favourite descriptors – ‘You look like a little orphan child!’ – would be inappropriate. Harry, who had been balancing his plate and glass in one hand and hitching up his trousers with the other, turned to look at his guardian and proceeded to drop the dishes with a grand shatter.

“Oops.”

Severus was to his feet with his wand in hand in less than a second.  If he knew this boy at all, he’d be on his knees picking up the glass with his fingers any second now.  “Do not move,” he stated, trying to prevent that vision from happening.

Harry did what he was told, standing stock still as his teacher waved his wand and cleaned the mess up in seconds flat.  As soon as Snape finished he found himself a little short of breath, a little shaky on his feet.  Would his guardian be angry?  So far nothing too scary had happened, but then he hadn’t done anything bad yet either.

But Snape didn’t even seem to notice his stupid mistake.  Instead he reached over and grabbed Harry’s wrist, turning it over somewhat roughly.  

“You don’t appear injured.”

“No, sir.  I mean - no, Professor, I --” This was why he preferred signing to talking.  When he talked, people actually heard the stupidity that came out of his mouth.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to.  Were the dishes valuable?”

“That’s of no concern.  My concern is the condition of your wardrobe.  There was a lot of spell work put into making them last until we could get to Diagon Alley.  Did someone cast a finite at you?”

“No.  It just happened.  I don’t know why.”  He wasn’t sure what the man wanted him to say.  To be honest, he hadn’t really noticed right away that his clothes had changed.  They felt pretty natural this way, after all.  He had just been glad it hadn’t happened while he was on his broom.  The twins’ reactions would have been . . . unpleasant. 

“It would seem your clothes were older and more damaged than the spells could handle.  I can fix this temporarily, but we shall have to go shopping sooner than expected.  Grab of your waistband and tell me when.”

He had to admit, the man had a flair for improving rubbish clothes.  Within seconds things fit better, smelled cleaner and generally looked less inclined to fall to pieces at any given moment.

“Thank you!” he exclaimed.  Severus only rolled his eyes in response.

“Thank me when you have an actual wardrobe of your own.  Tomorrow we shall go to London and remedy this situation.”

“Wow, tomorrow?  We don’t need to rush.  I – I’ll be fine like this for a bit longer,” Harry protested, following the man like a duckling as he swept out of the kitchen.

“I have no doubt whatsoever that you could.  I, however, cannot abide it another minute.  Besides which, if you’re going to have a birthday celebration we cannot have you wearing those – rags.”

Harry would have been embarrassed if he wasn’t completely blown away.  A birthday party?  He couldn’t have heard the man properly – if there was one thing he was confident of it was that Professor Severus Snape did not do birthday parties. 

“Um, I really don’t understand.  A birthday party?”

“Yes.  You may be familiar with the idea. People gather to give you accolades for surviving another year of life.  You are turning twelve soon aren’t you?”

“Yes.  But I think you’re teasing me, and it’s a rather rotten thing to do.”

For what felt like the fiftieth time that day, Severus held back a sigh.  He was amazed at the both the boy’s bravery (although he would have labelled it cheek) and his capacity for emotional hurt.   Not to mention his own tendency to fall for that full-on bottom lip pout that Potter was currently sporting.

Leaning over to poke the offending lip back in place he smirked slightly at his ward. 

"Teasing, yes.  You'd think you'd be used to it by now.  Regardless, the fact remains that we need to take you shopping and we will do so tomorrow.  It would be prudent of you to begin making a list of invitees.  I will look it over before you send out the notices.  And you may wish to think about what you'd like for gifts."

Harry was left staring at the man's back as he retreated to his library.  Invitees?  Birthday *gifts* - plural?  It's not like he had no idea what the whole phenomenon entailed, he'd certainly seen enough of Dudley's birthdays.  But he had never considered what he'd do if presented with a birthday party for himself.  It had never really seemed like a possibility before. 

It took him all day to come up with what he felt was something approximating a list of people he wanted to attend.  With parchment in hand, he went to find Severus.

"Um, sir?"

"Come in, Harry."

"I've got a list of people for my party."

"Well, let's see it then.  I'll need lots of preparation to brace myself for the gaggle of Gryffindors you no doubt intend to have romping through our home."

Harry took a breath and handed the list to his guardian and waited.  Would it be acceptable?  Would Snape be angry or annoyed?  Whatever way the man would react -- a raised eyebrow and a look of disbelief was not what Harry had expected.

"Really Harry?  This is your list?"

"Yes."

"You're certain?" 

"Yes!" Harry was starting to get frustrated. "If there's too many people just say so!"

"I do suggest you watch your tone.  Now let's see...who do we have?  Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger of course.  The rest of the Weasley family.  I'm rather surprised at the fact you did not invite more of your classmates."

Harry flushed.  Well he would have, but....

"How am I supposed to know I could?” He exploded.  “I'm not stupid, no matter what you think!  You didn't tell me how many people I could invite, and there are a lot of Weasley's and I know you don't like people.  I've never had a birthday party before, only seen Dudley's and lord know's nothing her does is normal!"

He didn't even realize he was yelling, let alone practically hyperventilating, until Snape grabbed his shoulders and gave them a hard shake.

"Breathe!  Take a deep breath and stop panicking."

With a blink of surprise, Harry took a long breath.  Oh.  Perhaps he had been panicking a little bit. 

"This is hardly the disaster you think it is.  You're right; I should have told you have many people you could invite.  I do appreciate you trying to keep the guest list short.  But I wouldn't think it out of the ordinary for you to invite the rest of your dorm mates.”

“Even Neville?” Harry asked with a sniffle – not that he had been teary.

“Yes, even Mr. Longbottom.  Are there any other young ladies besides Ms. Granger you would like to invite?”  Harry’s horrified face was enough of an answer to that question.  “All right, apparently not.  Well, have you thought of any gifts you might like?”

Suddenly the hem of his shirt became fascinating.  “Just one.  But I don’t know if it’s too much. I just don’t – it’s like with the list,” he clumsily tried to explain why he was at such a loss.

“Well, why don’t you let me decide whether or not it’s too much?” Somehow he doubted very much that it would be.

“I’d like a new pair of glasses, please.  These ones are really old and Hermione’s already repaired them twice.  It’d be nice to have a pair that fits right.”

“I imagine it would be.  I certainly think a new pair of eyeglasses can be arranged. But I should tell you that I’d rather you thought up another birthday request.  New glasses are similar to the healing balm I once gave you, or new clothes.  You shall have them, but not as a birthday gift.”

“Oh.  Well back to square one then.”

“Yes, it is a hard life to lead, trying to come up with birthday gift ideas.”

“You’re teasing me again.”

“Perhaps.”

SHSHSHSHSSHSHHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Morning seemed to come very early for Severus, and he had to stifle a groan as he turned and caught the time on his nightstand clock. 6:45 a.m.  Far too early.  He shut his eyes and made to turn over and go back to sleep when he heard the distinctive ~click~ and ~rattle~ of his doorknob.

The boy.  Why he needed to develop the sleeping patterns of a toddler when he was excited was anyone’s guess, but Severus knew he couldn’t be ignored for long.

“You’d better at least be wearing your slippers if you insist on waking me at such an hour.”

“I am!” His voice was much closer than Snape has expected, and a moment later there was a slight dip in the bad as Harry say and lifted his feet to the bed.  “See!”

“I would have taken you at your word, you know.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“Hmmmm.”

“Don’t go back to sleep!”

“Why not?”

“We’re going to Diagon Alley!”

"I'm aware of that -- it was my idea after all.  However, trust me when I say that no shops will be open at this time of the morning, so there is no reason for us to be awake yet."

"But this way we can be ready to go as soon as everything does open!"

"Yes, but --"

"And the sooner we get there, the less people there will be to annoy you, and the sooner you'll be back home to your potions and stuff."

"Nicely done."

"Did it work?"

"Just barely.  I will humour you this time, since you put so much effort into trying to manupulate me.  Very Slytherin of you."

"Thanks, I think."

With their early morning banter out of the way, Snape removed himself to shower and change.  He tried not to think of his own foolishness in leaving the boy unattended in his room.  Who knew what he was getting up to?  Had he left anything -- inappropriate -- anywhere in the room?  Well, it was too late to worry now.  Hopefully the worst Harry was getting into was jumping on his bed.

Then again, perhaps jumping on the bed wasn't the worst thing the boy could do, Severus realized as he left his washroom and went to send his ward off to get washed and dressed.  No, falling asleep in his bed had to be worse than jumping on it.  Yes, there was Harry curled up in the middle of the bed, blankets kicked to his feet, looking smaller than usual lost within the large bed.  He clearly hadn't intended to fell asleep - his glasses were still on and while they had agreed he needed a new pair, Severus still didn't think the boy would be so careless with them on purpose.

With a sigh he walked over and plucked the offending eyewear from Harry's face, and gently pulled up the blankets.  By all rights he should wake the boy as had been done to him.  Or at least move him back to his own room.  But there didn't seem much point at this juncture.  No, better for him to catch a few winks now, rather than turn into an overtired, impudent, brat later while they were in public.  Sometimes you had to pick your battles.

SHSHSHSHSHSSHSHHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

So it was an extra energetic Harry that waited for him by the front door several hours later.  The boy had practically inhaled his breakfast whole, ignoring every appeal to stop and chew. 

"Chewing will only slow me down!"

"And choking to death will slow you down permanently. Now at least pretend to have some manners and chew your food please."

He rolled his eyes, but did as he was told.  Perhaps his dad had a point after all.

"We'll be apparating, so I hope you're prepared."

"Is there any way to really do that?  Prepare yourself to apparate? Doesn't it just kind of suck no matter what you do?"

“Just brace yourself.”

Which would turn out to be good advice for the entire outing, in the end.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

He didn’t force the boy into Madam Malkin’s straight away.  He knew that getting measured for new clothes was practically torture for someone of Harry’s age.  No, instead he went straight to an optometrist.  Luckily there was at least one in the Alley that did exams on a walk-in basis, and at this time of the morning there would be no one there ahead of them.

Sure enough, Harry’s script was very out of date, and the optometrist had been horrified to see the state of his current glasses.  Horrified enough to turn an accusing glare and likely a hearty lecture on Severus until Harry had stopped him by assuring the man that his guardian wasn’t the one responsible.  When they walked out almost an hour later with the new pair, Severus was feeling rather guilty, despite his lack of culpability.

The delighted gasp from the child at his side pulled him out of gloom rather quickly, however.

“Everything is so clear!  I can see every single leaf on the trees. Wow!”

His need to examine every part of Diagon Alley that had previously been unclear to him slowed their arrival at the clothing store considerably, but the elder wizard didn’t have the heart to tell the boy not to dawdle.  After all, for all intents and purposes he was seeing the place for the first time.

Eventually they did reach Malkin’s however, and the owner hurriedly ushered the boy on to a stool to be measured.  “What will you be needing today, gentlemen?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Shirts, trousers, trainers, jumpers, pyjamas, pants, socks, and so on.  Everything.  The child needs a new wardrobe, and he needs it all.”

Madame Malkin turned a critical eye on Harry and examined him in a way that made him squirm.  “I don’t imagine you’ll be needing school robes yet – it looks like it’ll be at least a year or two before you’ll be at Hogwarts.”

Severus watched silently as Harry sputtered in disbelief.  Oh, this ought to be interesting.  The boy had a rather delicate temper to say the least.

“What?!  I’m almost twelve!  I’m starting my second year at Hogwarts!”

“Oh my.  I apologize dear, it’s just that you look a little younger than most of the Hogwart’s students that come in here.”

“You measured me for my robes last year when I was starting, you know.”

“Madame Malkin cannot possibly remember every student she serves Harry.  And you are being exceedingly rude.”

“Sorry.” Harry mumbled.  His mood did not improve, however, and it was clear that he was itching to have the measuring over and be gone.  Severus, on the other hand, took his time settling the account and paying; there was no point in rewarding bad behaviour.

As soon as they were out the door Harry burst out with his complaints.  “I can’t believe she thought I was nine!  Nine!  That’s insulting.”

“She did say a year or two.  Maybe she thought you were ten.”

The glare he received made it abundantly clear that his commentary was not helpful. 

“I’m going to look at the owls!” Harry said with a huff, and stomped off.  Or tried to, anyway.  He only made it a few feet before a running bundle of limbs and blonde hair ran straight into the back of his legs, sending both boys tumbling to the ground.  In an instant the offending toddler had burst into tears.

Severus and a tall man reached the boys at the same time.

“Icarus! Are you alright?”  The boy was still sobbing as his father knelt in front of him and began examining him for wounds.

Severus offered Harry a hand up and watched silently as the boy dusted off his hands and knees.  “Great, my new clothes are all ruined!” Snape was a little alarmed to note that his child seemed close to tears as well.

“We can clean and mend them Harry, it is not a tragedy.”

“I should apologize for my son,” the other man said.  “He just got away from me.”

Harry knew he was being unreasonable.  He knew it.  But as he watched the blonde man kiss his son’s  bruised and scratched knees, he grew angrier than he had been in a long time. Before he could stop himself he burst out,

“Well maybe you should have kept a hold on him then!”

The reaction from Snape was instant.  “Mr. Potter!  Apologize for your rudeness at once!”

“Oh, oh. You’re Harry Potter!  I am so sorry for Icarus, he really should watch where he’s going.”

“And perhaps if Harry hadn’t been stomping off in a snit he would have seen the boy coming.  I said apologize for being so rude to this man, Harry.”

“No.”

“Really, it’s okay.  Harry Potter, I mean he doesn’t have to --”

“He most certainly does.” Leaning down he got very close to Harry’s ear and whispered harshly, “You are being ridiculous.  If you don’t apologize now you can forget the rest of the afternoon at Diagon Alley.”

“No! And I’m not going anywhere!”

That was enough.  In an instant Harry found himself grabbed around the waist and flung over Snape’s shoulder, fireman style.

“And now it is my turn to apologize for *my* son. Good day.”

As soon as they arrived home Harry began kicking, much as Severus had expected.

“Let me down!”

“You’re lucky I don’t send you straight to the corner for your behaviour back there!” he replied, as he dropped Harry to his feet. “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing!  I was mad.”

“I could clearly see that.  There was nothing done to you that would make that kind of response acceptable!”

“Maybe it’s what wasn’t done to me!”

“What are you talking about? You expected something from that little boy?”

Harry screamed in frustration.  “NO!  Don’t call him that!  I’m....”

“Old enough to know better!”

“You don’t understand! He got, he – I don’t want to be old enough to know better.  That sucks!”

“I obviously don’t understand because you’re making NO sense!  Just moment before you were so angry that Madam Malkin thought you were younger than you are.  Now you’re angry because people expect you to act your age?”

Before Severus could stop him Harry spun and smashed his hands into the wall in front of him, sobs wracking his body.

“Stop that!  Stop that and talk to me.  Use your words, not your fists.  Merlin, use sign language if you have to, just tell me what is bothering you so much.  I cannot help you if you don’t.”

Harry collapsed against him.  “I can’t.  I can’t tell you.  I don’t even really know.  It was just that boy with his dad and you and me and it made me so mad.”

The boy and him and the father, what...? Oh. Oh.  “I see,” was all he could manage to say.

Taking Harry by the hand he led him into the bathroom and with quick, steady movements picked him up and set him on the counter.  First he wet a flannel and wiped the tears from the child’s face, all the while being watched with wide eyes.  Then he grabbed the rubbing alcohol.

“This may sting a bit,” he warned, as he dabbed at the wounds Harry had inflicted on himself during his attack on the wall. As Harry flinched, he pressed a dry cloth against the area to ease the burn.

“Can you straighten your fingers?  Good, then nothing’s broken.”

As he began repeating the process with Harry’s knees, the boy finally asked “What are you doing?”

“Healing your wounds.”

“Can’t you do that with magic?”

“Yes, but sometimes magic isn’t the cure one really needs.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. I understand.”

“You can’t.  No one can.”

As he applied a plaster to a bruised knee, he replied, “It’s okay to want to be someone’s little boy.  Like young Icarus was today.”

He looked up to find Harry had hidden his face in his hands.  Clearly they were both a little embarrassed to be a part of this conversation.  Nonetheless, it needed to be said.

“We can’t turn back time to give you what you missed.  Not in any real way.  And I don’t know why anyone would want to be my little boy, but it’s perfectly normal to feel the way you do.”

“It’s not fair.” Harry’s voice sounded so sad.

“I know.” So did his own.