His body tense, Harry waited for an attack as he stood outside Snape’s wards, holding onto the older wizard for dear life. A warm breeze stirred his invisibility cloak while Snape stood rigid beside him. Harry saw a squirrel run up a tree while birdsong echoed all around them. Slowly he relaxed, realizing that an ambush was not imminent. The muscles beneath his tight grip, however, were just as taut. Clearly Snape was not one to let down his guard.

Snape mustn’t have sensed any immediate threat either, though, because he opened his arms wide. Harry stepped inside of them, wrapping his arms loosely around Snape’s middle.

“Closer,” Snape growled.

Harry felt Snape’s arms snake around him and compress Harry’s body tightly to his own. Harry instinctively tried to pull away, but all of the air was being squeezed out of his lungs. He wanted to tell Snape to loosen his grip, but everything was whipping by and the world was spinning. He closed his eyes and buried his head against Snape’s chest. The scent of clean linen and potions ingredients filled his nostrils. He tried to focus on the steady beat of the other man’s heart and the solidness of the wizard he held onto in this indeterminate and unstable place.

When Harry’s feet touched ground, he stumbled, remaining upright only by the grace of Snape’s fingers digging into his upper arms to steady him. He felt his invisibility cloak slip off his head.

“You can open your eyes now,” Snape’s said, his voice sounding far away. “And please do try and refrain from vomiting on my boots.”

Potter sniggered at the thought and worked to regain his sense of equilibrium. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. He looked up in time to see Snape’s raised brow at his choice of words. “Sorry, sir,” he said quickly.

“By Merlin there is a first time for everything,” Snape uttered sardonically.

“Excuse me?” Harry asked.

“A Potter apologizing to a Snape.”

Before Harry could argue the point, Snape had strode away. Harry jogged to catch up. The weight and bounce of his feet pounding the pavement helped to ground him. For the first time, he noticed that they’d apparated into some sort of alley between two commercial buildings. “How far to the Grangers?” he asked when he caught up to Snape.

“About a mile,” Snape replied.

As they approached the exit of the alley, Snape stepped into the shadows behind a large dumpster overflowing with paper products. “A word, Potter,” he remarked, beckoning Harry to follow.

Harry waited as Snape fumbled for something in an inner pocket. A couple of cars whizzed by on the street beyond, but no pedestrians could be seen or heard. When Snape finally removed his hand from inside his jacket, it was fisted around something. Harry met the calculating gaze of his guardian without flinching. He wondered what Snape was about.

Snape’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, as if to steady himself for some unpleasant task. “This,” he said, holding out his hand, “was your mother’s.”

Instinctively, Harry reached out, holding an open hand beneath Snape’s clenched one.

Slowly, Snape’s fingers unfurled and a golden chain rained down onto Harry’s palm. An oval-shaped gold pendant came to rest atop the coiled chain. Harry picked up the pendant and studied it. “It’s the Gryffindor crest,” Harry murmured, sliding the cool metal oval back and forth between his fingers. “My parents...”

“Were in Gryffindor, yes,” Snape finished for him, rubbing irritably at the centre of his chest.

“Where did you get it?” Harry asked, enchanted by the knowledge that his mother Lily Evans had worn this.

“Your mother left it in my possession.”

As Harry caressed the smooth metal, he looked up and saw the deepening frown lines between Snape’s brows.

“It is meant to be worn, Potter, not idly played with,” the older wizard said crossly.

Chastised, Harry pulled the long chain over his head and dropped the pendant and chain beneath his shirt. The pendant hung to a point just below his sternum. Meeting Snape’s gaze, Harry noticed that the man’s features had relaxed into their usual impassive expression.

“Thank you,” Harry said, humbled by Snape’s gesture.

Snape nodded once. “It was always meant to go to you,” Snape remarked as he stepped out from the shadows and headed for the street.

Harry stood rooted to the spot, thinking over what Snape’s statement meant, when Snape’s voice drifted back to him: “Put your invisibility cloak on, Potter, and get a move on.”

“Harry!” Hermione shrieked.

Harry had just pulled off his invisibility cloak and didn’t have time to brace himself before Hermione threw herself at him in greeting. Snape caught Harry by the upper arm as Harry took a faltering step backward to counterbalance Hermione’s overenthusiastic embrace. He nearly stumbled again when he backed into his trunk which Snape had returned to its original size.

“Miss Granger,” Snape scolded, “Control yourself.”

Hermione pulled back immediately, looking abashed but still smiling.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger stepped forward, heartily shaking Snape’s hand and then turning to Harry and introducing themselves.

“We are delighted to have you here, Harry,” Mrs. Granger said. “Won’t you both please come inside?” she asked, gesturing to both Snape and Harry.

“I appreciate the invitation,” Snape said, “but I must be on my way.”

Harry watched the exchange with fascination. Hermione, he noted, was equally entranced.

“Really, dear, I must insist,” Mrs. Granger replied. “You’ve been so kind to us and we have a birthday cake for Harry and tea. Do take a moment and join us, won’t you?”

Snape hesitated, though Harry thought it was only to spare Mrs. Granger’s feelings.

“I am honoured by your offer, ma’am,” Snape replied, “but I am afraid I must decline.” Snape made a show of pulling out an ornate silver pocket watch that Harry had never seen before and checking the time. “Unfortunately I am expected elsewhere at present.”

Mr. Granger put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “You are welcome here any time, Dr. Snape. And thank you again for all you have done for my family.”

Harry darted a look at Hermione. “Doctor Snape?” he mouthed to her.

Hermione shrugged and returned her attention to the conversation at hand.

“It is I to thank you for opening your home to Mr. Potter,” Snape replied.

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Granger said. “It is no trouble at all. We’ve heard so much about Harry. It will be a pleasure to have him with us for the remainder of the summer.”

Snape nodded and turned his gaze to Harry. “I will send Hedwig to you this evening. If you need anything, send her with a message. I will key my wards to let her through.”

Harry nodded.

“I will return in a fortnight to take you and Miss Granger to Diagon Alley to purchase your school supplies. Your new school robes should have arrived by then.”

“Thanks,” Harry said.

Snape turned his attention back to the Grangers. “Once again, you have my gratitude,” he said. “Should you have any questions or need any assistance, please do not hesitate to contact me.”

As they said their good-byes, Harry found the charm of his mother’s necklace through his T-shirt and fidgeted with it. He looked up to see Snape frowning at him and promptly dropped his hand.

As Snape took his leave, Hermione led Harry into the house.

“He seems quite reserved,” Mrs. Granger lamented. “I wish he would have stayed for cake and tea.”

Harry snorted. “Can you imagine Snape singing Happy Birthday to me?”

“No, I can’t,” Hermione said, giggling. Suddenly, she sobered. “Then again, Snape has been full of surprises lately.”

Harry looked over at her serious expression and wondered what she meant. Before he could ask her, though, he found himself being herded into the dining room where a large birthday cake sat in the middle of an antique maple dining table. The cake was covered in white frosting and decorated with gold stars and brightly coloured candles. Written in a decorative script, it read: Happy 16th Birthday Harry.

“Wow,” Harry murmured, “I’ve never had a real birthday cake before.” Harry was so enamoured with the cake that he missed the concerned glance that passed between Mr. and Mrs. Granger, as well as the sad but knowing nod that Hermione gave her parents.

Hermione touched Harry lightly on the shoulder. “Should we light the candles?”

“Yeah,” Harry said wistfully. He wished Snape were here to see this. Then he froze. Did he really just think that? Shrugging, he ignored that train of thought and focused on counting the birthday candles as Hermione lit them—all sixteen of them.

“Happy birthday to you...” Hermione started singing. Her parents promptly joined in. Two light female voices balanced by a deeper male tenor filled the room. Harry felt his cheeks warm at the attention.

“Happy birthday dear Harry...” Hermione sang, bumping her shoulder against his in emphasis, “Happy birthday to you.”

Harry shuffled his feet. “Thanks,” he muttered.

 “Make a wish,” Hermione invited.

As the candles flickered, Harry glanced at his best friend, who stood beaming beside him, and then at Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who stood arm in arm across the table, smiling and nodding encouragement at him.

“Go ahead, son,” Mr. Granger said.

Closing his eyes, Harry thought: I wish for a home as welcome and loving as the Grangers or the Weasleys.