Once they had left the house, Snape's whole demeanour changed. He was still shy and quiet, but he no longer appeared so anxious. He had a slight spring in his step as he plodded along beside Harry, down the narrow pavement on the road side. Harry glanced sideways down at him, wondering at how much happier and relaxed his potions master was, now that he was no longer within the glare of his mother. And you wonder why your students hate being in your presence? He thought with a slight smirk.

Snape's hand suddenly tightened in Harry's grip and he unconsciously moved closer to Harry so as to hide himself slightly behind him. His walk slowed and became more awkward so that Harry got the impression that he was almost dragging the small child along.

He looked with askance at the mop of untidy black hair now trying to hide in his robes, then up at the pub. Snape's memories of an ugly man, slightly larger than the adult professor, yelling at Snape's mother swam into his mind. Your father for drink?! He realised that if Snape's mum was like Aunt Petunia, then his dad had to be almost a carbon copy of Uncle Vernon. With a sharp intake of breath, Harry realised that Snape's childhood was only too similar to his own…and that the memories he had found in Snape's mind two years ago were not singular occurrences. All at once he understood something he had not seen when he had cowered under the ferocious glare of his teacher: as a child, Snape had experienced neglect and hatred just the same as Harry. And this small boy was currently trapped in it.

Snape whimpered softly as the pub door began to open and Harry felt both his own fear and indignation for the small boy at his side. Sharply he pulled the boy forward, hurrying them both past the pub before anyone saw them there.

Strangely, the righteous anger he had never felt towards his own aunt and uncle, and the various other adults responsible for his care up until the age of eleven filled him now. Harry felt it, not for himself, nor for his teacher, but for the small boy at his side.

“It's ok, we’re past it now,” he said as calmly and soothingly as he could. “No one will hurt you; no one saw us.”

Little Severus looked up at him, searching for truth. Apparently he found it, for he relaxed and stepped slightly away from Harry's side. Together they walked down that road and the next. It occurred to Harry that, though he had seen the park in Snape's memories, he did not know how to get to the park from Snape's house. He stopped and looked at the black hair.

“Do you know where the park is?”

The boy looked up at him, slight disbelief in his eyes. “Don't you?” he asked.

Harry shook his head, feeling foolish.

“Oh.” Snape's body seemed to deflate a bit and he stared ahead down the grainy road.

“But if you've been before, you know the way Sn - Severus” Harry pointed out.

“I haven't been,” the boy replied, “Uncle Longbottom” he added quickly. At Harry's shocked look his eyes dropped to the pavement again. “'m sorry” he muttered, dragging his shoe on the stone.

Harry felt slightly shocked as he looked down at the child holding his hand. Not been?! How could Snape not have been? It was where he met Lily. He had to have been by now surely! What was the point of him coming back here if he wasn't going to be able to meet his mum? What use was it meeting Snape if Snape couldn't even introduce him to Lily? Harry's disappointment flared into jealous anger. He glared down at the bowed head, selfishly hating him. The shoe scuffed the pavement again and Harry's anger faded. He remembered that this was not Snape in front of him; it was only a six-year-old boy whose childhood was horrible. His face softened. Well, then–maybe he, Harry, could make it better! He would take him to the park –they would ask someone the way–and then Lily would probably be there. Harry could see Lily and he could introduce Snape's childhood self to her, giving Severus a friend. Feeling happy now that he had sorted everything out, Harry wiggled the small hand he was holding.

“Never mind!” he said brightly. “We'll ask someone the way. Then you'll know it for the future.”

The change in Snape was instant. “Really? You don't mind, Uncle Longbottom?” he asked, craning his neck round to see right up into Harry's face. Harry was now looking round for someone to ask.

“Nope!” Harry replied, not really paying attention.

Snape perked up and skipped a bit on the spot. His uncle wasn't mad at him anymore and they were going to the park! He saw someone walk across the road ahead and vanish round the corner. “There! There Uncle Longbottom!” he yelled, dragging Harry along after him as he started running down the road to catch up with the man.

Harry ran with the boy. But once they had reached the corner the man Snape had seen had vanished. Instead Harry saw a woman across the street, and holding Snape's hand tightly, he quickly crossed over to ask her.

“Just down this road,” she answered pointing with one hand, the other weighed down with a sticky blond child, “then turn right and take the first street on the left. It has a large sign outside it with some graffiti on, but it's OK. My Alfie loves it.”

“Thank you.” Harry smiled and nodded at her, then began walking. Absentmindedly he stuffed his hands into his pockets, only to discover some resistance. Snape's hand. Of course. He smiled down at the boy, uncomfortable once more at the idea of holding his teacher’s hand. Snape beamed back. And the thought that this boy was his teacher blew away once more.

When they arrived at the park they found that someone had indeed graphitised the entrance sign. Snape looked up at it interestedly and Harry hastily pulled him through. There was a small, grassy area in the middle of the park, with an old set of swings in the middle of it. A girl and a boy were playing on them, the boy trying to stop his sister's swing so that he could get on. Harry found himself wincing as he looked at the boy's small fingers neatly placed within the swing's chain ropes. He held his breath as the heavy swing knocked forward into the small boy's chin, knocking him off balance. Snape tugged on his hand and the spell was broken as the other child picked himself back up and set again upon getting his sister out of the swing.

“There's some ducks Uncle Longbottom–can we go and see them? Please?” Snape, seeming to have lost some of his meekness, was trying to get Harry to follow him to some ducks next to a murky-looking pond.

“Yeah, all right.” Harry replied, looking around as they walked, hoping to spot a small, ginger-haired girl among the various parents and children sitting and standing round the park. But there was no one there that fitted that description. Once at the ducks, he feigned interest as Snape crouched down to look more closely at them.

“That's a mummy duck. ’Cos she's not as pretty as a man duck,” he told Harry. “They're all ducks,” he added, waving his hand extravagantly over the pond, including swans, a moorhen and a stray seagull in his definition. “They eat bread.” He glanced up at Harry. “Do you have any bread, Uncle Longbottom?” He asked hopefully.

“Uh, no.” Harry replied, feeling slightly fazed by the sudden flow of somewhat biased information. Snape instantly flushed and looked down again. Why?! Harry thought. Out loud he said, “What does a man duck look like?”

“Severus?” Snape blinked. “Are you OK?” Yes, he nodded, he was very OK. Then he remembered his uncle had asked him a question.

“'m sorry.” Snape flushed lightly. “I've forgotten what you asked me.” The last was almost whispered, but Snape stared at Harry's face the whole time he spoke and remained, his eyes locked on an area, Harry supposed, of his chin. Harry noted that his whole body had tensed up. He realised the signs of a small boy expecting punishment but unsure of what form it would take.

“That's OK,” he said kindly, “It doesn't matter. I just wanted to know what a man duck looked like.” He mentally erased 'if you knew' from the sentence.

Snape breathed a sigh of relief. “A man duck is prettier than a mummy duck. It has a shiny back.” He stood up and gazed round, trying to spot one. “Over there. See, Uncle Longbottom?”

“Uhumm, I see it.” Harry agreed standing up and stretching his legs. Snape's attention was caught by a woman and her daughter just next to them as they took out bread from a bag and started to throw it at the ducks at their feet. She looked up and smiled when she caught Snape's eyes.

“Do you want some too?” She asked.

Severus glanced up at Harry. “Are you sure? That would be great, thanks!” Harry reached out to accept the proffered bread then broke it and handed some to Snape who turned to throw it at the waterside. None of the ducks ate it because it landed in awkward places on the bank.

“Here,” Harry broke a small bit of bread off, “Hold out the bread to the ducks, and then when they come for it you can throw it just in front of them.” He demonstrated as one fat duck waddled up. “I think this is a greedy one, don't you?” he giggled with Severus as the small child joined in.

Snape held out a piece of bread to the duck. Before Harry knew what was happening, the duck prodded its head forward and nipped the bread out of the child's fingers. Severus gasped and held his fingers next to his chest, his eyes filling with tears.

“Shh, hey, it's OK.” Harry said gently, taking the small boy into his arms, bread still flopping about in one hand. “It’s OK Sev, I'm sorry–I didn’t know the duck would be so greedy, I should have told you it might do that. Did it hurt?”

With more warmth than before Harry took the proffered hand and turned to walk out of the park again. He grinned and reached down to brush breadcrumbs out of the child's hair. Severus smiled wetly up at him, his hand covered in saliva.

“Thank you.”

They walked back out of the park and turned to make their way back. Harry spotted a small café just over the road and dug his hand into his pocket in search of cash. He turned up a small number of wizard coins.

“Would you like a drink Sev? We could go and get a lemonade or something in that café.”

“Really? A real drink? Not pretend?” Severus asked, slight disbelief in his voice.

Harry smiled reassuringly and nodded. “A real drink. Anything you like.” Severus's face erupted in a wreath of smiles. And Harry felt something sing inside him. “And a cake too!” He added feeling suddenly flamboyant and fun. He could not remember the last time he had felt 'fun'. He surreptitiously tapped the handful of coins with his wand and watched them change into muggle money of the same value. A trick Hermione had taught him, after she had complained about having to take her parents into Gringotts and pay massive exchange fees. She had then spent some time in the library until she found the charm. They had found it particularly useful last year.

Severus decided he wanted a lemonade and a chocolate cake. He kept asking Harry if it was cheap, seeming unable yet to read and understand prices. “I don't want to be a greedy boy” he told Harry over and over again. Finally, though, Harry got him to make a choice, then ordered a lemonade and a muffin for himself. The somewhat elderly lady serving them thought Severus was incredibly sweet and told him she would give him an extra big piece because he was such an angel. Harry just thought it was rather sad.

When they sat down Severus waited, perched on the edge of his seat for Harry to start eating. Then he tentatively took a small bite of his cake.

“Is it good?” Harry asked encouragingly.

“Umm! ‘Ank oo!” Severus spewed out, his mouth still full of sticky chocolate. Harry grinned, trying not to be put off by the half-chewed food.

“Good.” This seemed to put Severus in the mind that he was fully allowed the cake and he dug into it with surprising speed.

“Sev, why did you ask if it would be a real drink?” Harry asked, thinking that he already knew the answer.

Severus shrugged and, still focused on his cake replied, “Mummy used to say I could have a drink sometimes but it was only ever pretend. She said I wasn't good enough or that she,” Severus screwed up his face, fork in the air dangerously near to his eye and recited, “wasn't going to waste good money buying me an expensive drink that I didn't need.”

Suddenly Harry wanted to buy the whole shop for the small boy across from him.

“It's not a waste,” Harry said sharply. Severus looked up at him. “You're worth every penny Severus Snape. Don't ever let anyone tell you different!” The words rung in the otherwise empty shop. Severus was staring across the table at him, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. Harry was caught in their gaze; long black tunnels leading to hidden depths. Harry was sucked in and swirled along. He remembered holding a man in his own time. Who had died in his arms, blood soaking into his robes. Leaving Harry with only his memories.

“No, I'm not, that's not me. I'm a bad boy.” Severus, flushing, had ducked his head. Harry swallowed, thinking of a similar small boy who had lived with an unloving aunt and uncle.

***

As they neared the house in Spinner's End, it was growing dusk. Through the net curtains, the orange light of a fire glowed. Eileen walked into the room and placed something on the sideboard. Harry felt strangely reluctant to return Snape into her care. Snape himself had grown quiet on the walk back home, and now stood silently at Harry's side. Harry sucked in a breath and pushed the lopsided gate open. With determined strides he walked towards the door.

He lifted a hand to knock, then brought it down. Quickly he crouched in front of Severus, turning the boy to face him. He grinned at the small face. “I have to go now Sev, but I'll come back and see you soon – OK?”

“You mean less than years, Uncle Longbottom?” The face was hopeful, but sad.

“Years? No–tonight!” Harry frowned, confused. Then his face relaxed into a grin again. “I'll be back after tea.”

The door opened and black skirts and tight laced boots filled the doorway. “Was he a nuisance, Mr Longbottom? I hope you behaved yourself Severus, this gentleman is very important.”

“No, no. Severus was great. We had a fun afternoon.” Harry straightened up. He ruffled Snape's hair. “Well, I'll see you later, Sev.”

“Thank you. Goodbye, Uncle Longbottom.” Snape stepped into the doorway, next to his mother, his pale face lit by the light filtering past Eileen.

Harry waved over his shoulder as he walked back down the path and opened the gate again. As he made his way down Spinner's End, he passed a man loudly saying his farewells at the pub. He turned the corner and began making his way back to the park where they had fed the ducks. He wanted to go back to see Snape again that evening. He saw another road which had several shops still lit and turned down it. The shop fronts were quite shabby, though their contents neat, and he assumed it to be the high street. As he passed one window, he saw a small teddy bear sitting in one corner. It was wearing a green ribbon round its neck and looked slightly forlorn. Two button eyes stared unseeingly down at the wooden window seat. A slight smile formed at the corners of his mouth and he pushed open the shop door. The tinkle of the bell brought a man out of the back of the shop.

“Yes sir? Can I help you?” He was slightly stooped, his greying hair in the style of a past era. His brown, weather - beaten face crinkled up at Harry as he placed work-worn, arthritic hands on the wooden counter top.

“Er, yes thanks. I'd like to buy the teddy with the green ribbon in the window. Please.”

“Certainly sir. A sweet bear that one. Been there for a while now it has sir. Though it's a very good make–seen others like it in the big shops in London. But it seems that dolls are more in demand at the moment. Ah, well. Times change, times change.” The man wrapped up the bear in stripy, crisp paper. “That'll be three and six, sir. Thank you very much. Hope your son likes it sir.”

“Thank you.” Harry took the bag and left the shop, not bothering to correct the older man.

He saw a small restaurant, walked in and sat down at a table. A girl came up to take his order, and as he ate he pondered what to do. The memory of his teacher lying dying in his arms kept presenting itself at the front of his mind, and he was finding it difficult to eat his meal. Harry realised that he had come to think of the small boy with whom he had spent the afternoon as Snape, and not as some other child. All right, perhaps he wasn't exactly ready to forgive his teacher for all that he had done–and he certainly wasn't about to think of the grown-up Snape with anything but awkwardness–but…

The image of the dying man, his face drained of colour, grasping at Harry's cloak, filled his mind once more. He swallowed and pushed his plate away, fighting the sudden nausea that filled his throat. Snape. Dying. Already dead. The small child, Severus, already dead. Before his time. Tears pricked Harry's eyes as desperation and sorrow swelled in a tidal wave inside his chest.

“Are you alrigh' sir?“ The girl, chewing her gum, had come to remove Harry's still half-full plate. “Do ya wan' some tea?”

“Um, no. I mean, yes and no. Could I have the bill, please?” The girl popped her gum and moved off, shooting a glance at Harry as she left. Harry scrubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve, then, when the girl returned, hastily pulled some muggle change out of his pocket and placed it next to the receipt on the table. Grabbing his bag, he left, turning back up the high street in the direction of Spinner's End. He would go and see Severus, give him the teddy bear, and try to find some way he could help the boy who would go through so much only to die later in his nemesis's arms, abandoned by everyone. The sudden remembrance that he had still to return from this time to the present and defeat Voldemort, by–he felt bile rise in his throat–dying himself shook him, and he redoubled his pace. He wanted to be somewhere familiar, even if it was the Snapes’ unwelcoming home.

As he neared the cluttered garden for the second time that day, Harry paused. Unsure, he simply waited, wondering if Severus would be able to help him get back. He felt very young, and wished Dumbledore had been around to contact for help. Resolutely he pushed these thoughts out of his mind as they threatened to swamp him. However he was to get back, he would no doubt find out in good time. And besides, the longer he stayed here, the more he could help Severus, and the longer he would be able to stay alive. Maybe he could even stay with Snape, teaching him and helping him to find happiness in life before he became so bitter later on. Maybe he could even change the future…

Harry walked down the path and knocked lightly on the door. After waiting a moment he cautiously pushed the door open and peered round it. He thought he could hear noises coming from a room down the hall. As he neared it, he heard a man's voice speak roughly to Severus. He turned the handle and pushed the door open. The first thing he saw was Severus, cowering in a corner, his knees drawn up to his chest his eyes wide with fear. He jumped out of his skin at the bellow which assailed his eardrums. A heavier built figure than the Snape Harry knew towered, crimson-faced, over a cowering Eileen just behind the door. A sharp tug jerked Harry off his feet, then he was falling backwards, tumbling down and down and down.

“Beozoar!” He yelled into the silver mist as the kitchen dissolved around him.