When he didn’t answer, the gaze dropped once more and Snape’s face fell. “’M sorry.” he mumbled and started to back away.

“I can be. If you want.”

The small face, already framed with lank, dishevelled hair, was eager. “Really? You really mean it?” Small hands pressed on Harry’s knee. He grinned lopsidedly at the boy, one of his hands coming to cover Snape’s own.

“Yeah, why not?”

Eileen reappeared in the doorway of the room, a self-satisfied smile gracing her lips as she took in the scene before her. Evidently her son had already managed to use his wiles to entice this stranger to like him. She settled the tea tray on a low table.

“Tea?” she smiled, offering a cup to Harry. “Do you take milk?”

This man doesn’t look very old, she thought. Evidently they are getting in very young to the ministry these days. He doesn’t even have the matured appearance of a higher studied student; he looks rather more like he entered his job straight from school. Perhaps an apprentice then, learning his way up the ministry – hardly someone to exalt my son to power in that case. She mused. But there is time enough for that, she consoled herself. After all, Severus is only six. By the time he is ready to start seriously making his own plans this man could be quite high up. And there are many opportunities for introductions in between. Still, she appraised his clothes quickly as she handed his cup to him, he does not have the appearance of someone with money. Perhaps it was due to the tests. Maybe they had been asked to wear old clothes for this radar thing.

Harry squirmed under the scrutinising gaze, nervously trying to sip his tea whilst attempting – and failing – to work out if it was laced with poison. He was kicking himself for having not paid more attention during potions class. He cleared his throat – rather too loudly – and leant back awkwardly in the chair, trying to appear relaxed. He ran a slightly sweaty palm down his robe and cleared his throat again. He tried to think of something to break the silence and stop Snape’s mum from staring at him.

Snape himself had scuttled back to his corner of the room, away from Harry when Eileen had entered. He now stood, nervously flicking his gaze between his mother, sitting straight-backed in her chair, to Harry, stiffly slouched in his. His gaze also kept returning to the clock above the fireplace – when had his father left?

“So. Mr…er?” Eileen raised one dark eyebrow at Harry, her tone distinct and pointed. Harry was reminded strongly of Snape.

“Er…Mr, er, Longbottom.” Harry answered slightly defiantly, his anger pricked by the tone. Immediately he prayed that Snape did not know Neville’s family.

“Ah! Mr. Longbottom.” Here Eileen paused, as though hoping Harry would give the intimacy of his Christian name also. When Harry didn’t she resumed. “What exactly does your job at the ministry pertain? My little darling,” she simpered, “is so interested in working there when he is grown up. Aren’t you Severus?” she cooed.

Harry opened and shut his mouth several times. Like a fish, Eileen thought disparagingly, an absent-minded scowl darkening her pinched features. This worker must be very young and clearly not from a rich, pureblood background – he has absolutely no social graces! We shall be lucky if he can climb at all in the ministry’s ranks. Her mind almost purred the word ‘pureblood,’ while conveniently forgetting her own particular lack of social graces – and her son’s mixed heritage.

Harry blanched at the scowl. Pulling everything he knew about the ministry, he hastily began trying to prove his innocence to her.

“I work in law enforcement,” Harry gabbled, “We enter through the fifth fireplace; we’re currently developing the new radar technique from something the Department for Muggle Artefacts confiscated a while back.” He noticed that Eileen seemed to perk up at this. “We’re changing it to pick up magical-related wickedness, dangerous spells, etcetera.”

“Ah! I see. I’m afraid you haven’t quite got it working yet then, Mr. Longbottom.” Not at all, Eileen thought. “You see, my husband – ”

“Oh, no, no. Obviously the system picking up Sna- your son was purely, I mean, completely wrong. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“You misunderstand me Mr. Longbottom.” Eileen ground out, her smile seemingly fixed in place. “Evidently your device is working – only it targeted my husband, not my son.” Harry gaped. “He left just minutes before you arrived” She sipped her tea and cocked her head to one side, her piercing eyes and nose strangely birdlike in appearance. Her look gave Harry the vague sensation he was being drawn to his death by a grindylow.

“Wha..?” he asked in confusion, forgetting for a moment just where he was and who he was supposed to be. “Radar doesn’t… what do you mean?”

“I mean, Mr. Longbottom,” Eileen spoke slowly, as to a dense child, “I mean that the radar is working. Only it is still picking up muggles – not wizards.” She sat back expectantly, evidently thinking that Harry would start doing something. Apparently not. She sighed and twisted her features into something resembling constipation in any normal person, but that was probably supposed to be painful heartache. “My husband,” she faltered, “my husband is a cruel and vicious man. A malicious muggle.”

Harry remembered two adults fighting in a pensieve. And Snape’s venomous comments on his returned homeworks. “So? You’re a witch.”

Eileen gasped, and felt – for once – honest indignation and hurt. How callous was this brat? Then she remembered that he probably thought she had magic. He was a wizard after all. He would assume that she would be able to better him in a fight. He did not know she was a squib. Well. How to proceed? What would he do if he found out? She leant back in her chair and pursed her lips, her frown pensive. On the one hand, she wanted her husband removed and punished for the pain he had caused her, partly because he was a muggle and so she perceived him to be ‘in the way’. But, Severus’ future could be important in returning her to her own previous glory in the wizarding world. If Severus was to secure a high place of honour in a pureblood profession, her father may wish to see her again. Wizards would want her potions and she would gain the respect she craved.

It was Harry that broke the silence. “Do you know the Po-, the Evans’?” he asked abruptly.

Both Snapes gazed at him in confusion.

“Pardon?” Eileen queried.

“Er…does Severus know the Evans’ yet? Um. A family…” Harry tailed uncertainly into silence, realising that perhaps it was not the wisest topic of conversation. Eileen was now looking at Snape through narrowed eyes.

“Do you?” she snapped.

Severus shook his head and stared at his toes. Harry felt something akin to a balloon pop and ooze disappointment inside him. He realised his sole interest beyond self-preservation since arriving at Snape’s house had been to see his mother. Now that looked to be impossible. Snape was too young.

All at once the thought that he, Harry, wasn’t looking at his hated teacher, but only at a little boy, struck Harry. He remembered the angry adults in Snape’s pensieve, and felt a familiarity with the small, dark-haired boy staring at the floor in front of him.

Harry turned to find Eileen looking at him again, indecision marking her features. He remembered her conviction that he had been brought to the house following the wickedness of her muggle husband. He remembered Uncle Vernon when he had been drinking.

“Are the Evans purebloods?” Her voice was cautious and held a tremor of disappointment.

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, she’s a witch but –” Harry, flustered, shut his mouth tightly.

Snape’s stomach rumbled loudly. Instantly Eileen turned on the boy and hissed at him to be quiet.

“’m sorry.” Snape whispered miserably.

“He is such a greedy little boy – always hungry.” Eileen huffed – a throwaway statement. Harry was strongly reminded of Aunt Petunia. Only this was different. Eileen looked no better dressed than Snape. And the room was old-fashioned and smelt of beer and stale smoke.

And she hates her husband. This illumination was followed by another, with the weight of a hippogriff. She expects me to do something about him. She thinks I’m from the ministry. Guilt slowly filled Harry. Great. Someone else I can fail.

Harry put his cup and saucer down on the arm of the chair and rubbed his clammy hands down the leg of his trousers. “Look, about your husband – ” he began uneasily.

“Nothing!” Eileen broke in with another stretched smile and brittle brightness. “Like you said, Mr. Longbottom – I’m a witch.” She crooked her head at him. “I can easily deal with him; my husband isn’t really a problem.”

For once Harry felt like he had Hermione inside his head instead of himself. He didn’t know what to say. He felt terrible. You and your stupid saving-people thing. He didn’t know why Snape’s mum couldn’t protect herself from her husband, but he knew that she didn’t.

He stood. Eileen stood too. She looked expectantly at him, then began to show him to the door.

“Wait! May I take Sn- Severus out?”

“Take Severus out?” A raised eyebrow.

Harry swallowed. “Um yeah. To the, to the park.”

A pause. “All right,” she said finally.

Harry breathed out a breath he had not thought he was holding as Eileen turned to her son. “Severus! This gentleman is taking you out. Get your coat.”

Severus stilled, then hurried towards the door, his small figure almost thrumming with excitement. A sharp, though not excessive, slap to the back of his head was dealt as he passed his mother.

“Don’t misbehave, brat! Or else.”

Harry squirmed slightly at the threat, so often directed at him. And felt a moment of empathy with the small boy.

Severus reappeared in the doorway, a large trench coat now slung over his thin shoulders. He looked even more ridiculous than in his memories. Harry experienced a moment of uncertainty as he thought of what he was about to do: take his hated ex-teacher to the park. He stepped towards Snape, and automatically extended a hand to the six-year-old. The sudden recollection of his adult teacher’s cold, sneering face filled his mind, and revulsion caused him to jerk his arm back, away from the idea of offering his hand to his teacher. Hurt and confusion flashed across the small boy’s face. Harry swallowed, and with great effort, held his hand out to Snape once again. The small hand slipped into his. It was quite cool, almost cold. He squeezed it slightly to warm it.

“Shall we go then? I’ll bring him back soon, Mrs. Snape.”

They left a thoughtful and somewhat suspicious Eileen in the dowdy living room, her arms crossed, her lips pursed as she stared after them. A typical Snape.