"Hey Mr. Snape let’s play I spy I love that game ok I’ll go first I spy with my little eye something white now you guess what white thing I see go on guess guess guess-’ Hermione said as the four of us rode to the Hogwarts gate in a carriage. I sighed reluctantly before answering.

"The snow?" I asked flatly.

"How’d you guess?!!?" she cried, flabbergasted.

"Er … Because it’s everywhere," I said gloomily, glancing out the frosted window of the carriage and into the swirl of snowflakes.

"You know Severus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much snow!" Minerva exclaimed, forgetting she wasn’t speaking to me.

Minerva wasn’t the only one; I had never seen the castle so heaped in the stupid white stuff. It was so deep that the carriage got stuck twice and I was nominated to go out into the freezing cold to get us moving again. The worst part was that the snow wasn’t stopping anytime soon, or at least according to the wireless.

"Minerva, perhaps you and Hermione should floo straight back to my place after, instead of all of us meeting in the square when we are done shopping. The storm is getting worse. Besides, I haven’t much to find and will no doubt be done earlier than you two."

"That sounds fine by me," replied Minerva as the carriage stopped with a bump.

"Oh my, I would have put a second jumper on the children if I’d known it would get this bad!" Minerva said as we got out into the snow.

"Brrr!" Harry said as he shivered. I picked him up and held him close; next to me Minerva did the same with Hermione.

Before following Minerva through the gate I gave the thestral that had pulled the carriage a nice scratch on the back as thanks. It had worked very hard that trip, and certainly deserved it. Harry however, didn’t see my action, for he had buried his head into my cloak.

***

"What would you like to get Hermione for a Christmas gift?" I asked Harry once we were standing in the cheery square of Hogsmeade. Here the storm seemed far friendlier, but the wind was still rather fierce.

"I don' know, I never had a friend to get a gift for before," Harry replied, leaning against my leg as he held my hand. No friends… Who does that sound like, eh Sev?

"Well what does she like?" I asked.

"She likes books."

"Then let’s go to the bookstore," I said, leading him over to a little shop to my left.

Once inside the storm was all but a faint swishing of snow brushing against the shop’s window.

Toasty warmth washed over us as we browsed the tall rickety shelves for a book that Hermione might like. Harry looked with the same determination of a man trying to find a ring for his bride to be; in his eyes it had to be just right. He would occasionally ask for me to read aloud the title, and sometimes even flip through a few pages of the hopefuls. But every time he would set the book back on the shelf with a shake of his head. I wondered what he was looking for exactly. I had never seen a child so dedicated before.

We finally found it - a small blue book resting on the top shelf at the very back of the shop. It looked out of place, rather as if it had been forgotten where it lay.

"What does that blue book say?" Harry asked, pointing up.

"Er, I can’t tell, it’s all dusty," I said, squinting at the little book. "I can’t reach it either. Come over here Harry."

"Why?" he asked curiously, glancing behind his shoulder to look at me.

"I’m going to lift you up so you can get the book." I said. He smiled and walked over to me, holding his hands up.

"’Kay, I’m ready!" he said.

I lifted him up and sat him on my shoulders; he reached his little arm above his head and grabbed the book with ease. He dusted it off with his scarf.

"I like the cover," he said, sounding quite pleased. He handed it down to me. "What does it say?"

"It’s called 'Best Friends', and it’s a fill in the blank book," I replied, thumbing through the pages with interest.

"Fill in the blank?" Harry asked, looking down at the book.

"In this book you get to write you and your friend’s name, so the story is about both of you."

"Can we get this one for Hermione?" Harry asked as I lifted him off my shoulders and set him on the ground.

"Yes we can," I replied before handing the book to Harry. He held it close and smiled.

"But I don’t wanna get eated by a fireplace!" Harry shook his head ten minutes later with tears in his eyes. "Please don’t feed me to the fireplace!"

Harry seemed quite frightened by the thought of travelling by floo powder. His face had gone a pale white shortly after seeing a man disappear in the emerald flames a moment earlier, and I had been having a difficult time getting him to believe me in the fact that it was really just a mode of transportation.

"We’ll go together Harry, I’ll hang onto you the whole way!" I said desperately as I knelt by the hearth.

"You’ll make sure it spits me out?"

"Yes, I will not let the fireplace eat you."

"Promise?"

"I Promise."

"’Kay," Harry said finally, leaning into my arms. Much to my chagrin the female occupants of the three broomsticks let out a loud chorus of “aww!"s.

"Ok, now hold on tight to me and close your eyes. This might make you a bit dizzy," I said as I picked him up, ignoring the comments on just how “Sweet” the both of us were.

I threw a handful of floo powder and stepped into the green flames. Harry tensed against my chest.

"Severus Snape’s quarters, Hogwarts!"

***

"Do you feel sick to your stomach Harry?" I asked after setting Harry down in my kitchen.

"Nuh uh," he said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Harry said adamantly a moment before throwing up on the floor.

"Apparently not," I said, vanishing the mess and carrying the sick little boy to the bathroom.

I gave him a teaspoon of Children’s Stomach Soother and washed his face with a cloth, all the while he sat on the bathroom counter.

"Do you feel better now?" I asked softly, concerned.

"Yeah, 'm sorry," he said, tears slipping down his pale cheeks.

"Shh, you don’t need to be sorry," I said, pulling him into my arms.

"But I made a mess," Harry sniffed from my arms, looking fearfully into my eyes.

"All kids make messes sometimes Harry, I did the same thing the first time my mother took me through the floo," I said, rubbing his back. It seemed to have a calming effect on him.

"You did?" Harry asked incredulously as I took him into the living room.

"You bet I did. Only I puked all over her shoes, and in public too!" I said, recalling the incident.

"Was your mummy mad?"

"No, she was a good mummy. She got me all cleaned up and gave me a hug." I sighed with a slight longing in my voice. I missed my mother. Thirteen is far too young to lose a parent … It was difficult after that with only my father, strict as he was.

"Are you my Daddy?" Harry asked out of the blue, breaking the silence and making me sit down on the sofa to recover from the shock.

"What makes you think that?" I asked curiously, but not unkindly.

"Well, you tuck me in at bedtime and … and give me hugs when I’m sad. You do everything a daddy does," he said with all his four year old wisdom.

"I’m sorry Harry, but I’m not your daddy, he died when you were young." I said heavily, resting my chin on his messy hair.

"I know… but I wish-" he started, but fell silent.

"What do you wish?"

"That you really were my daddy and I could stay with you instead of go back to my Aunt 'n' Uncle’s," he whispered. Me too kid, me too.