The night Harry had found out he was a wizard was almost as strange as today was turning out to be.

He, Harry, was sitting in a pub, eating treacle tart, with Professor Bloody Snape. What was more, Snape had spent the afternoon being quite decent to him, again. Even when Harry ducked what he'd assumed had been a hand coming to box his ears, Snape had not lost his calm. He had assured Harry that he would not take up where the Dursleys left off.

Of course, that might all change when he couldn't get rid of Harry.

For the moment, Harry was pleased. It was nice just to be able to see properly, with a pair of glasses he wasn't shoving up his nose every five minutes. The temporary glasses the oculist had given him fitted him better than the glasses he'd had since he was eight ever had. And Harry saw immediately what she meant about headaches-he didn't feel he had to strain to see things with these. He couldn't wait to get back onto the Quidditch pitch to try them out.

Did Snape really mean for him to spend (Harry did a quick guesstimate) probably sixty galleons on glasses? Harry didn't remember what the exchange rate for pounds was, but he'd guess it was a lot. Harry had tried to stay down the end where frames were marked with one galleon or two galleon tags.

He remembered, vividly, the fuss Aunt Petunia had made at the opticians-the exam had been covered by the system, but not the glasses themselves, "Just give him the cheapest ones you have," she'd said, giving him a look, "He'll only break them or lose them, anyway."

The optician had given him a kind, sympathetic smile, but Harry had been mortified.

Well, he'd never broken them. Now, he had to wonder if that wasn't due to his magic. No matter what Dudley or Uncle Vernon served up, his glasses were whole at the end of it. Come to think of it, Dudley had stolen them a few times, but they always found their way back to his cupboard.

Snape was being so weird. When the oculist had made a comment about Harry's old glasses, Snape had come to his rescue. Making it sound as if Harry's regular pair had fallen prey to a broomstick accident. What the hell was that about? Snape had acted almost like he understood Harry's embarrassment.

Harry couldn't help but wonder: where was the money coming from that Snape was spending? From this mysterious support fund? How many months worth of that had Snape just blown? Perhaps the whole year's worth?

The hot meal (and not to mention treacle tart) was making Harry feel a bit braver, so he said, "Sir?" he thought he'd be a bit more direct about the clothing thing than he had been a moment ago. He'd been trying to give the man an out, without being obvious.

"Yes, Potter?" The professor used a civil enough tone. Perhaps, Harry should always talk to him after a lager.

"Er..Do I still have enough...I mean...I know robes are expensive...I usually spend about a hundred galleons and my glasses...well, I was..."

"Potter, stop rambling, and ask your question." Snape growled, losing patience.

Harry bit his lip, took a deep breath, "Well, can I afford...?"

Snape rolled his eyes again, "Yes, Potter. You are well within your budget. Assuming we don't buy any solid gold cauldrons to go with your glasses."

Harry blinked. That was nearly a joke. He looked at Snape's impassive face, trying to decide if the man meant it as such, "Well...so...what? It's going to be covered by this support fund? Is that for the year, then?"

Snape finished off the rest of his pint. Harry almost got the idea that he was stalling for time, planning his response.

"For the month." Snape finally said quietly, meeting Harry's eyes, "The fund is substantial."

"Are you telling me, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were getting almost two hundred galleons a month for keeping me?" Harry said, trying to work out how many pounds that would be. He'd never mentioned his vault at Gringott's to the Dursleys because he knew they would try to get hold of it. Now it seemed that they already had gotten at least some.

Snape cleared his throat, "The exact sum is actually nearer four hundred galleons. I must admit I was surprised myself, by the figure."

"How many pounds is that?" whispered Harry, his brain not taking it in.

Snape looked at Harry, with an unreadable expression, "I have no idea."

Harry's breath caught in his chest and he looked away. It was good news. It really was. He didn't need to worry that whoever ended up being his guardian would be hurting for gold. He wouldn't be a burden. So it was good news.

But, why was it making his throat hurt and his eyes prickle?

"Took you in out of the kindness of our hearts." Aunt Petunia said, in his head, "Ungrateful little freak."

"Can I wait for you outside?" Harry found himself asking Snape.

Snape gave him a sharp look, "I think not. But it is time to go"

Harry stood quickly. For some reason, this was even more upsetting than finding out Snape was his guardian. He wanted to get outside, away from people, before he started doing something stupid, like crying. At least outside, he could pass tears off as the product of the cold wind.
Snape stood and dropped some coins on the table, led the way out to the street.

Harry took grateful gulps of the cold air. Snape was watching him with narrowed eyes, "Are you all right, Potter?"

Harry nodded. What else was he supposed to do? It wasn't as if anyone (especially Snape) really wanted to know. Harry scrubbed at his eyes under his glasses, trying to convince himself that his eyes were running from the sharp, raw wind..

There was something about the Dursleys being paid to take him that made his skin creep. Always, they had told him that they took him in from pure charity. Merely because of the blood bond between he and Petunia. They'd said as much, any number of times. That though he was a freak, and a terrible burden, they were doing their duty by him. Blood was thicker than water and that was the only reason they took him.

"Potter?" Snape said, again.

"Fine." Harry grunted. And then, because it seemed he'd explode if he didn't say something, he hissed, "They always made me wear Dudley's cast-offs. Did you know that?"

"That would be your cousin?" asked Snape, quite casually, as if inquiring about the weather,. He wasn't looking at Harry now, he was brushing the wrinkles out of his robes, "No. I didn't."

"Aunt Petunia said they couldn't afford to keep freaks in clothes. She said I was taking food out of Dudley's mouth." He spat, "She always said that. And Marge said...she said..." Harry could picture Marge suddenly, very clearly in his mind, as she told him that his parents left him to be raised by the charity of his aunt and uncle. Of the nasty look of triumph, when she'd told him that he'd been left destitute by a pair of drunks. How, though his parents were such that the world was better without them, because of the ties of blood and family, the Dursleys had taken him in at great personal and financial cost.

Even after Harry discovered he was a wizard, he'd assumed they'd been telling the truth about how much money they had to spend to feed and clothe him.

"What did Marge say?" asked Snape, curiously.

"She called my mother a bitch." Harry ground his teeth again, "The night I blew her up. She said that my mother was a bitch who married a wastrel."

"That is what caused the accidental magic?" asked Snape.

Harry nodded, angrily. He crossed his arms across his chest, under his cloak, waiting for Snape to lay into him about it.

Instead Snape snorted. If it had been anyone else, Harry would have been tempted to say it was a laugh, "I understand it took the Magic Reversal Squad a good half hour to put her right." A twitch of the lips that was a suppressed smirk. Harry's back stiffened, the bastard was laughing at him.

Then Snape sighed and went back to his usual dour demeanor, "I assure you, you were never taking food out of anyone's mouth." he said stiffly, "We will correct the deficiencies in your wardrobe today." he seemed to hesitate, before continuing, "I'm sure you've realized by now, your father's family was quite well off. And your mother made some arrangements, through a Muggle solicitor that I have written to. It is quite likely that there might well be some money from that quarter, as well."

Harry really, really didn't want to discuss this anymore. He supposed he should be grateful that Snape wanted to keep this secret, else the Slytherins would have a field day. The Boy Who Lived; wearing cast-offs and sleeping in a cupboard.

Snape was going on inexorably, "According to the other teachers, you do have your textbooks. Did you have need for any other supplies for school?"

Harry shook his head, not changing his stance.

"I assume you ordered everything by owl?"

Harry nodded.

"Why didn't you order new robes that way?" Snape didn't sound angry, merely curious.

"I only had enough gold for one or the other." Harry muttered, embarrassed. Any minute now, Snape was going to laugh at him for his Hermione-ish tendencies, "It was what I had left over from my trip last year."

"How much gold are you accustomed to withdrawing at a time?" Snape asked, thoughtfully.

"I always take out about two hundred galleons." said Harry, "Didn't spend it all last years because there were a few things I didn't need to buy again. So I saved what was left over."

Snape's eyebrows went up, "All of it?"

"Well, yeah." replied Harry, "What do I have to spend it on, while I'm here? I get meals and everything. Even Hedwig's taken care of while we're here."

Snape was giving him that "You're-a-bug-I'm-about-to-chop-into-potion-ingredients" look again and Harry shivered involuntarily.

"Come along, Potter." Said Snape, "We've stood here, in the cold, long enough."

Harry nodded, trotting along beside the tall man. Snape's face was set into its' usual impassive expression, although Harry thought he felt the man giving him glances now and then.

They came to a shop whose sign proclaimed: Tatty's. Fine robes since 1453

"This will do." Remarked Snape, guiding Harry in with a hand on his shoulder.

The shop was smaller than Madame Malkin's, in Diagon Alley. On one wall a row of balck Hogwart's robes hung neatly, on the other wall, a veritable rainbow of robes. At the back was a wall lined with mirrors. Bright daylight sifted in from skylights in the ceiling.

Harry looked again. The sky through the skylights was false, since they showed a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. As Harry looked, a bird merrily flew across the clouds. After the chill grey of the outside, it gave Harry a warm I-love-magic feeling.

"Professor Snape? Oh, Sir. What can I do for you?" An oily voice called. A man almost as small as Professor Flitwik was standing at the cash register in the back.

"Mr. Potter needs robes for school." Snape said.

The man did a double take, then pulled out his tape measure as he hurried down the shop to them, "MR POTTER! Indeed! A great honor to meet you! Oh, yes of course." he stared avidly at Harry's scar, "A great honor!"

Harry felt his cheeks warm, he dropped his eyes and unconsciously tugged on his fringe to pull it down over the scar.

"And, what shall I get for you, sir? Something in velvet, to impress the witches, eh?" The man asked jovially.

Professor Snape cleared his throat, "I think we will make due with the regulation school robes. Thank you, very much." he said icily.

"What, buying your robes this late in the year?" asked the man, surprised, "Come to school without them?"

"Yes, well, Mr Potter's family is Muggle." Replied Snape, not giving Harry the chance to reply himself. "Generally he goes with the family of one of his housemates, but they were away this year. Professor Mcgonagall was going to bring him the first week, but..." Snape trailed off significantly.

The shop keeper nodded, suddenly grave, "Oh, yes. She's been in London, hasn't she? Over the Longbottom affair? Terrible tragedy, just terrible. I knew the boy's parents, you know." He sighed, "What's going to become of the uncle? Have they decided?"

Harry involuntarily sucked in his breath at the indirect reference to Neville. He didn't know why it was so upsetting. Probably because this day had him feeling all sorts of off-balance.

"Dementor's Kiss was the last I heard." Snape replied, darkly. Harry wondered what that was.

"I understand you knew the lad, Mr. Potter." said the shopkeeper, "Mrs. Longbottom said you were in the same year as he."

Harry nodded, stiffly.

"That is neither here, nor there." Snape said archly, unexpectedly coming to Harry's rescue. He gave the shopkeeper one of his fiercest glares, "I think it is best that you just take the boy's size and get on with it."

"Oh, yes. Of course." The shopkeeper replied, fawningly.

The shopkeeper kept his comments to a minimum after that, fitting Harry for robes with alacrity. Probably Snape standing there with his arms crossed, glancing at his watch every few minutes likely gave the man incentive to hurry.

Finally, the Harry had everything on the list ordered, as well as a load of extra things Snape deemed necessary. Boots and trainers, as well as shoes to wear to class, an extra cloak, and a stack of socks and underwear.

The shopkeeper became more servile as the order increased. Harry was relieved when they were finally done, and could leave the shop. Professor Snape ordered everything to be delivered to Harry's dorm, that afternoon.

"I will expect you to appear at dinner looking a bit less disheveled, Mr. Potter." Snape told him as they left, "Please, see to it that you toss those in the rubbish." he gave Harry's current robes a disdainful glance.

"They're not that bad." grumbled Harry.

Snape raised one eyebrow, but didn't say anything further.

Well, okay, they were, Harry had to admit to himself, fingering the threadbare sleeve, but he'd be damned if he'd agree with Snape

"I need to stop by the apothecary's while we're here." announced Snape, "I would appreciate if you would refrain from embarrassing me, while we're there. Mr Wold's appearance is quite startling."

Harry glared at Snape, but said nothing.

This shop had no display in the front window. The shop itself was floor to ceiling shelves filled with jars. As one came in the door directly to the right was a counter with a man standing behind it. He looked up and turned to them, as the door closed.

Harry had to bite back a gasp. He had never seen someone so scarred.

The left side of the man's face was perfectly smooth and unmarked. His features were regular and even handsome, but the right side had the look of a melted candle.

Where the right eye should have been, there was a flap of skin that fused to the man's cheek in pink and white lumps. The right side of his nose was completely without flesh; it was just thin skin drawn over cartilage, with no nostril on that side. The mouth had no lips and sagged on the right side, pulled down into a permanent grimace. It looked as though the skin had been burned down to the man's underlying skull. The cheekbone and the jawbone standing out harshly.

"Hello, Severus." The man's mouth twisted. It took a moment for Harry to realize it was meant to be a smile.

Professor Snape, smiled at the man, "How are you, Marcus?" Harry had never heard Snape so friendly with anyone before.

"Oh, you know, business is good. Can't complain." He turned to pick up a package, behind the counter, "Here's your order."

As he handed it to Snape, Harry saw that the right hand was similarly burned. He wondered if it were the man's whole side, or if he'd put up his hand to try to shield his face.

Harry quickly looked away, before either of the adults could catch him staring. Instead he looked at the many jars on the walls. Some were full of dried plants, others liquid of varying colors, some contained bits of things Harry didn't even like to speculate on.

Snape and the apothecary exchanged more pleasantries before Snape said, "Yes, this is our Mr. Potter."

Harry looked towards the man and said "Hello, sir." very quietly. He steeled himself and managed to look him in the (one) eye, without blanching

"Mr. Potter." The apothecary grinned that parody of a smile at Harry, but he didn't seem to expect further conversation.

After a few minutes, Snape's purchases were checked and paid for and tucked way in the man's robes (shrinking spells were very useful, Harry thought).

They were half a block away from the shop when Snape said, grudgingly, "I appreciate that you didn't allow Mr. Wold's appearance bother you."

"What happened to his face?" Harry asked quietly. His own scar was famous and drew stares, but really, it was easy enough to hide. The attention it drew was also mostly positive, Harry had to admit, even if it was a bit overwhelming at times. It didn't make people look away.

"Potion's accident. An explosion." grunted Snape, "That is why I do not allow horseplay in my laboratory."

"Oh." Harry realized that he needed to spend some time thinking on today.

"I believe Madam Vitrea will have your glasses ready. We should have them fitted and then head back to the castle." Snape said.

Harry nodded.

"I should mention, Potter," The man said slowly as they walked, "Professor Burbage has started a discussion group with some of the students who have had difficulties with their families. It's open to anyone who wants to join. It may do you some good."

Harry shrugged. That was not going to happen, the last thing Harry wanted to do was discuss the Dursleys, and it was certain to get out if he talked about it in a group.

"If you worry about keeping this arrangement secret, I assure you that Professor Burbage uses privacy spells to ensure no talks out of turn." Snape went on, "However, it is strictly up to you."

It seemed like the man was waiting for some reply, so Harry settled on, "Yes, sir."
"I should also mention that the Weasleys have spoken to the headmaster about taking over this responsibility, when we can arrange it quietly."

"They did?" asked Harry, hopefully.

"Until that happy day, I suggest we both try to make the best of things." Snape continued in that dry, arch tone. He sounded like he did when he was giving his first lecture of the year, "I will no more tolerate rule breaking than I ever have, but assuming you can avoid your more" he paused looking for a word, "Colourful escapades, I believe we can both cope with this."

"Yes, Sir." sighed Harry.

By this time they had arrived at the Oculist's again. Snape opened the door and waved Harry inside.

It took no time for Madam Vitrea to fit his glasses. Harry marveled at the change the new glasses made. First Harry thought they made him look older, then he decided they didn't, but they had the effect of making him look just...better. The metal picked up the color of his eyes and the clear crystal made them more visible.

Snape stood in the background, with that curious assessing stare again.

"He really does have his mother's eyes." Madam Vitrea, remarked to Snape, "Such a vivid green. I'd make a fortune if I could replicate the colour."

"You knew my mother?" asked Harry, "When she was in school?"

"Oh, she was in the healer's program at St. Mungo's. I worked in the hospital, then." replied Madam Vitrea, "But, I believe Professor Snape was in the same year as she."

Harry turned his startled gaze to Snape, "Did you know my mother, then?"

"Yes, Potter. I did." Snape replied quietly, "Now if you are done admiring yourself, I think it's high time we returned to the castle."