“Is there a problem with the date, Potter?” Snape asked him as they left the bookstore and headed towards the Apothecary’s. Harry’s reduced books now resided in Severus’ pockets beside his shrunken clothes.

“No, no problem. I was just out longer than I thought and I turned twelve without realising it. It’s all right, though – birthdays don’t mean that much. I had just forgotten.” He shrugged his indifference as he continued to gaze into the stores they passed.

Severus grunted in response and continued on over to the Apothecary’s where Harry was hard put not to start sneezing at all the different smells tickling his nose. Severus greeted the Herbalist behind the counter and gave the man several orders, which included new potions ingredients for Harry’s school kit as well as replenishing his own stock.

Harry looked around the store, but his eyes were caught by a splendid set of weights and measures that included a full set of various stirring rods. He thought, with a set like that, he would have no problems getting his potions correct; but he was sure his guardian wouldn’t let him have it - he had already bought him enough things today, as it was. The old training that Vernon had pounded into him over the years asserted itself and Harry knew deep down that he wasn’t worth a wonderful set like that, not unless he paid for it himself – and he had already had that discussion with Snape; he wasn’t about to trundle down that road again. He sighed in envy and started to turn away.

Severus had turned around to look for his charge while the clerk put his orders together, and saw Harry eyeing the potions set with longing. Then he saw the look of dejection on his ward’s face as he sighed and turned away. Severus got a thoughtful look on his face as he turned back to the clerk when the man reappeared.

A few minutes later they were on their way to the Leaky Cauldron for a bite of lunch before Apparating back to the main gates of the school. Harry handled the transport better this time around – his stomach didn’t rebel nearly as much – but he still felt he preferred brooms. They made their way quickly across the grounds and into the castle to Snape’s quarters where the professor gave Harry the password to get through the oak door’s guardian portrait.

Snape gave Harry a push between his shoulder blades, after handing him his packages and teaching him the unshrinking charm, towards his new room. Harry obeyed and, after enlarging the packages, slowly put his new things away.

He couldn’t quite believe how his snarky potions professor was acting towards him. He had been resigned to the fact that he was now under the man’s guardianship, and had expected little better from Snape than he had received from his Uncle Vernon, especially after the way Snape had treated him all year during school. However, ever since he had woken up yesterday, Snape had been uncharacteristically well… kind was a bit much, but maybe understanding? As if he understood, all too well, what Harry had lived with for the last eleven years. And the man had laid out the rules nice and clear. Living with the Dursleys, Harry was never quite sure what the rules were – as they constantly changed depending on Vernon’s whim. But Snape had told exactly what was expected of him, what the punishment would be if he disobeyed; and, in turn, what Harry should expect from Snape as far as what he would be receiving from the dour man. That was the real eye-opener: an adult being concerned that Harry had the basic necessities of life and more.

He carefully hung his new clothes, caressing fabrics he never dreamed of owning, and placed his folded things in the drawers in the cupboard. His new shoes he placed at the bottom in a neat row, then he turned to his desk. He piled his new books on one side with reams and rolls of new creamy parchment and several new quills and bottles of ink. Snape had been generous with his spending on Harry’s behalf and had refused any offer of payment. He had acted as if it was an insult to him for Harry to even think of paying his new guardian back for what the man had spent.

Harry did not understand that; he’d had it drilled into his head by the Dursleys that he was not worth any amount being spent on his behalf, but he decided it was best to leave it alone. Maybe he could come up with some other way to show his gratefulness? He would have to give it some thought. He changed into some new casual clothes before his transfigured ones from the infirmary lost their charms, and headed back to the main room with one of his new schoolbooks. One of the places they had stopped at was the oculist’s to have Harry’s glasses adjusted, something that had never been done before. His glasses had come from a bin of used frames – Petunia wasn’t going to spend the time, nor the money, on fixing his eyesight properly. Now that he could see without straining his eyes, he could enjoy reading.

Severus looked up from his desk as Harry entered the room, pleased to see him in clothes that fit, for once. He made a few more adjustments to the schedule he was drawing up for the boy then went to sit across from him in the other chair. Harry looked up at him expectantly, closing the book over his finger to hold his place.

“I have drawn up your schedule for the rest of the summer. Take a look, and I am open to reasonable adjustments to it.” He handed the piece of parchment over to the young man.

Harry looked it over. It really wasn’t that unreasonable, considering it had been Snape who had drawn it up. Except for one thing… there didn’t seem much time for flying.

“Erm, just one thing: flying time?” he asked apologetically, a bit afraid to even bring the subject up.

“Let’s consider that a reward for good behaviour. When you finish your assignments each day, to my satisfaction, then you will get at least one hour of pitch time. If you don’t – extra penmanship lines. Agreed?”

Harry brightened at this offer, concentrating on the positive rather than the negative. “Thank you, professor.”

“Let’s get some dinner – it is getting late.” He led Harry over to the table where he had Harry try the summoning charm.

Harry tapped the table once with his wand and the serving dishes arrived piping hot on the centre of the table. Severus served a bit of everything to both of their plates and watched as Harry began to eat. He noticed that Harry still held his silverware like a five-year-old. He sighed to himself as he realized that he was going to have more teaching to do than just academics. He cleared his throat and got his ward’s attention. “Potter, you are holding your cutlery incorrectly. Try to copy what I’m doing.” Harry looked at him as if he was from Mars.

“Why does it matter… sir?” he added hastily as Snape’s left eyebrow hit midlevel.

“It matters because you are expected to act correctly in polite wizarding society. As the purported ‘Boy-Who-Lived’, and the heir to the Potter fortune, you will be expected to act the part of a well-bred wizard at certain functions. This includes knowing how to use your eating utensils correctly. I’m assuming your – relatives - never taught you how to use them?”

Harry looked down at his plate, his hands now hidden beneath the table, balling up his serviette. “They never let me eat with them at all,” he murmured. He felt Snape’s finger raise his chin gently to look at him.

“I figured as much,” he said quietly before releasing his chin. “Therefore, I will teach you what they didn’t. Now this is how you hold your knife and fork.” He demonstrated for Harry. “It will feel uncomfortable at first, but you will get used to it fairly quickly. Now, you do it – go on, Potter, pick up your knife and fork – that’s right. You cut your meat in this manner… that’s right, stretch your index finger along the back of it, you can control your knife better that way… correct. Well done, now continue on.” He kept one eye on Harry as he attempted to use his silverware correctly per Snape’s instructions. Snape nodded in satisfaction at his successes, and gently corrected him as to where to place his utensils when not in use and so on, as well as the universal rule of no-elbows-on-the-table. When Harry had eaten his fill, the professor tapped the table twice and the dishes disappeared back to the kitchens.

Snape chivvied his charge back to his room to get ready for bed.

“Take a shower, and you may read in bed – if you so wish – until ten. Do you still have the vial of potion… ah, good. I suggest you drink it when you are ready to sleep, it will block any nightmares.” Severus turned to leave the room, after he saw Harry nod his understanding.

“Professor?”

Severus turned back with a sigh, “Yes, Potter?”

“Thank you, sir, for everything; for saving me and taking me in, and the trip to Diagon Alley. I know you didn’t have to do it…”

“You’re right, Potter, I didn’t.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he stood in the doorway.

Harry screwed up his face in a perplexed look. “Then why did you?” he asked quietly.

Severus pinched his nose before he waved Harry to sit on his bed and he walked over to the desk chair, turning it around and sitting in it to face the small, messy-haired boy sitting on the bed. He truly wanted to tell the boy it was none of his business, but felt that he needed to gain some rapport with the child – and telling him the reasons just might aid in that endeavour.

“It’s complicated, Potter,” he took a deep breath before continuing. “Will you believe it if I told you I owe it to your parents?” Harry shook his head ‘no’. “I didn’t think so…” Snape muttered under his breath.

“I was told you hated my parents.” Harry plucked up the courage to say.

“Not so,” Severus replied. Now it was Harry’s turn for his eyebrows to rise in disbelief. “No, it’s true,” he insisted. “Yes, there was a rivalry during our early years at the school – that was with your father and his gang of friends; but never your mother. I’m quite sure your aunt never told you, but I grew up in the same neighbourhood as your mother and aunt. I’ve known them since your mother and I were eight or nine.” He paused a moment as he considered his next statement. Yes, the boy deserved to know the truth in order to understand. “We were even married secretly for a time.”

“But… Hagrid said…” Harry got up quickly and went to his night table where he grabbed his photo album and handed it to his professor. “Why aren’t you in here? I know all these photos by heart and you aren’t in any of them.” Severus took the proffered book and flipped through the pages, seeing the pictures of his darling Lily smile up at him. The pictures grabbed at his heart and he hurriedly shut the book, holding it in his lap. If he looked any further, he would lose his composure – something he did not want, or need, at this moment.

“No one knew. Well, two people knew, but no one else; that is the nature of a secret.” He almost sneered – but caught himself in time. “I am only telling you this because you need to understand, it is not for general consumption.” He took a deep breath before continuing on. “We were married secretly, for a short time, until it became evident that I would be putting her at great risk if it should ever come out. The marriage was never registered, it was just between the two of us – but we counted it as a true marriage. We thought that with my spying for Dumbledore, it would be safer for her to marry James legally and live with him. Then she got pregnant with you, almost immediately, and you know the rest.”

He paused, looking at Harry to see his reaction. When the boy made no sound, just continued to stare at Severus, he continued on, gently setting the album aside on the desk next to him. “Lily told me that if anything should happen, she wanted me to care for you. But you have to understand; there was nothing I could do at the time. I was a known Death Eater and barely managed to keep myself out of Azkaban with Dumbledore’s help. There was no way the Ministry would let me have you. Merlin, they wouldn’t even let Lupin take you!” he muttered to himself.

“Lupin?” Harry asked.

“Another friend of your parents who wanted to care for you.”

“What was wrong with him?” Harry asked curiously.

Snape looked hard at his ward, should he tell him? No, not yet, this whole bit with Lily was more than enough for now. “He has a condition that makes him ineligible for adopting minors,” he said dismissively and Harry realised he wasn’t going to get a further answer from that line of questioning.

“What’s a Death Eater, and Azja…” Harry stumbled over the word.

“Azkaban: a wizarding prison in the middle of the North Atlantic Sea. A Death Eater is a follower of the Dark Lord.”

Harry looked fearful, and almost angry. “You were a follower of Him?” he accused, backing up a bit on the bed. Severus eyed him from beneath lowered brows.

“For a very short time – until I woke up and realised your mother was more important. I went to Dumbledore and he convinced me to be a spy for the light. So, I played double agent for nearly three years until you defeated him.”

“Then why didn’t you try later?” he cried, jumping off the bed and taking a few angry steps towards his guardian. “Why didn’t you check to see what my aunt was doing? If you knew her, you knew what she was like! Why didn’t you save me then?” Unnoticed, tears streamed down his face as he stood and accused his professor. “Didn’t you care?”

“Of course I cared!” Snape shot back. “But Albus assured me you were safe! And, Merlin help me, I believed him!” He shook his head, letting his hair fall forward shadowing his eyes as he wrapped his black robe-draped arms around himself. “Of course I knew your aunt, and what she felt towards wizards. Merlin knows she hated me when we were growing up – but he told me that she was taking good care of you, and she was your blood relation; she had more claim on you than your mother’s secret spouse,” he snapped. “Not even Dumbledore knows we were married, he just assumes I am interested in your welfare because of our previous friendship.”

That stopped Harry cold in his tracks. “He doesn’t?” He finally realised he had been crying and rubbed his face with the sleeve of his jumper, as he sniffed back the mucous in his nose. His face reddened, as he felt embarrassed about crying in front of Snape.

“No, Harry, he doesn’t.” Snape walked up to the boy and knelt in front of him. Harry’s eyes grew wide as he watched his professor lower himself to the boy’s level, and heard him say Harry’s given name – things the man never did! “This is something only very few knew – your mother, James and Lupin knew; and now you know.”

“He knew about my cupboard,” Harry whispered, green eyes wide with revelation.

“What do you mean?” Snape narrowed his eyes towards his ward. “How do you know that?” He swore silently to himself, if Dumbledore had known all along what those people had been doing… but Harry was already explaining.

“My first Hogwarts letter came addressed to my ‘Cupboard Under the Stairs’. That’s where I lived until the letters came. My aunt was convinced people were watching the house and I was moved up to Dudder’s second bedroom that evening. The rest of the letters were addressed to ‘The Smallest Bedroom’, but my uncle took every single one of them and destroyed them. And there were hundreds of them – even came through the fireplace!” His eyes brightened in remembrance at the silliness of it all. “I didn’t get to read my letter until Hagrid brought it to me. We were hiding out in this shack on this tiny island in the sea.” Harry paused and looked straight into his guardian’s eyes. “So, he knew where I lived and what they were doing,” he snapped out in clear accusation of the headmaster.

“You lived in that cupboard where I found you? The entire time you were there? Merlin!” he swore, his eyes becoming hard pieces of coal. “Harry, I don’t know how the first-year letters are addressed, but I assure you I will find out,” he promised.

He placed his hands on the young boy’s shoulders, impressing on him the sincerity of his next words. “I am sorry that I believed Albus and never went to check on you. I am sorry for last year – but you need to know that I was watching out for you then, even though you never knew it. Professor McGonagall and I both noticed how malnourished you were when you arrived and took our concerns to the headmaster, but he insisted you were fine. So, Minerva and I kept an eye out for you. Poppy and I spiked your pumpkin juice, and I saved you on your broom when Quirrell was hexing it. I couldn’t do anything overt – I do have a reputation to keep with the Death Eater children.”

“You’re still a spy?” asked Harry, having to whisper over the queer lump in his throat that had formed as he heard the man apologising; Severus Snape – most feared man in Hogwarts – apologising to one damned Harry Potter. It boggled the mind.

“Yes, in a manner of speaking,” Severus said as he nodded his head. “There is still some speculation that he is out there, biding his time, too weak to make any moves yet.”

“He…he…” Harry stumbled a bit on this confession; he wasn’t sure what the professor knew about the stone escapade. “He was in the back of Quirrell’s head when I rescued the stone. … He drank unicorn blood last year in the forest…” He raised worried eyes to his guardian’s face. “He is still alive,” he said quietly.

“It appears so, Potter,” Snape agreed, without any hint of sarcasm or snideness. That alone hammered the truth home for Harry.

Harry sighed in resignation and he stepped away from his guardian to sit back on the edge of the bed. Snape stood up and sat back in the chair, ignoring his creaking joints as he did so.

“So, does that… what does it mean?” Harry asked, a bit confused.

“Let’s just see how the next month goes and take it from there, shall we?” Snape suggested. Harry nodded his head but didn’t look back up at the man. “Good. Now go take your shower, and don’t forget to drink the potion. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

Severus left Harry’s room, leaving the door cracked open and headed to the main lounge area. He pulled the latest copy of Potions Monthly from his desk, and setting a nice blaze going in his floo, settled back in his favourite chair for a nice read. He found, after staring at the same paragraph for fifteen minutes and not remembering a word it had said, that he was not going to be allowed that nice quiet read.

Why had he told Potter about his marriage to Lily? Those green eyes did it – they made him want to explain, because it had been necessary for the boy to believe his motivations, and to explain them, in a way, to Lily – at least that is what he told himself. He got up from his chair and walked to his bedroom.

On his bedside table was a picture he had taken out the previous morning when he knew Harry would be moving in with him; his wedding picture with Lily. Merlin, they had been so young! But they had been so in love, as well. He caressed a finger down the side of her face as she smiled up and waved at him, blowing him a kiss, then hugged the younger version of his smiling self in the photo.

“I make this vow to you, Lily: he will never go back to Petunia. I will care for him as if he were ours. It will be hard; he is so damaged by that Neanderthal your sister married, but I swear I will do it,” he whispered fiercely to the photo.

He had let himself grow old and bitter after the Potter’s murders. He had tried to save them, but the Dark Lord had lied to him – as he knew deep down he would – and he had let himself fall into the pit of depression and self-loathing for the last eleven years. He had to admit he had been stunned at the shape Potter had been in when he had arrived last September.

He hated having to show contempt to the boy – if only he had been sorted into Slytherin… the boy could easily have been his and Lily’s, but the timing wasn’t right. He had told her to move on, and she had – he couldn’t blame her in the slightest, as much as it hurt. And the boy was an exact replica of James, all except the eyes – those were hers.

He shook himself out of his reverie. Well, now he had a chance to right some wrongs. Harry understood a little better, and Severus himself was letting his young charge melt some ice from his heart. He let the corner of his mouth rise a bit in a small smile as he did his own nightly ablutions before checking one last time on Harry and going to bed himself.

He padded to Harry’s door, the hard leather soles of his slippers clicking on the cold stone floors. He tightened the belt of his dressing gown and opened the door. Harry was sound asleep, his transfiguration book lay open on his chest, glasses askew on his face and the bottle of dreamless sleep empty on his bedside table. Severus gently took the glasses off and placed them atop the now closed book on the night table. Tucking the blankets more securely around the small body, he brushed back the fringe to uncover the mark with the gentlest of touches. How he wished that this boy had been his, but James had won. All he could do now was make sure the man’s sacrifice was not in vain. He sighed and Nox-ed the light as he left the room.