"How old are you, Echo?" Harry asked blithely at dinner a few evenings later.

Severus' fork clattered to his plate, and Albus snorted into his napkin, his eyes twinkling annoyingly. The younger wizard shot the older one a look that said very clearly, 'stop that infernal twinkling!'

Echo ignored the noise from the two wizards, and settled her attention on Harry. "Why do you ask, Harry?"

He was prepared for this question. "My birthday is in July, so I wanted to know when yours was, so if I needed to get you a present, I don't forget. Then, I was thinking about how old you were. My dad is thirty-six, Albus is 121, and I'm six."

"Fascinating," she said with a teasing smile. "How old do you think I am?"

Harry put down his fork and knife and squinted, as though to study Echo carefully. "Uhm... twenty?"

Echo laughed and dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. "Oh, Harry! That's the best compliment I've had in a long time! I haven't seen my twentieth year in... well, sometimes it feels like decades."

Harry wasn't too happy about being laughed at, even if his guess had been a sort of compliment. "Then how old are you? Or is that a secret all girls keep, because Daddy told me not to ask you."

Severus slammed down his knife, glared, and was prevented from saying anything to his impertinent son as Albus' hand came down gently, but firmly, upon his.

"A woman's age isn't really a secret, sweetheart. It's just that most women don't like to be reminded of their age. It is a part of their vanity. As for me, I don't mind if I'm asked what my age is. I'm thirty-two years old and my birthday is in December." She then winked at Harry. "And, I like pretty combs for my hair. That's my bit of vanity."

Severus saw it, but Echo missed it. A quick little, scheming glint in his son's bright eyes. Severus ground his teeth together and tried to finish his meal.

At bedtime, Harry waited for his father to come and read to him. Severus finally arrived, but didn't sit down right away in his reading chair. He stood over his son with a tell-tale, you're-in-trouble, glare on his face.

"Do you care to reveal what mischief you have up your sleeve, my impertinent child?" he inquired archly.

"I haven't done anything!" Harry asserted.

"After I expressly told you not to, you asked Miss Prosper her age."

"But she wasn't mad!" he countered.

"Whether or not she reacted negativly is not the point, Harry. You disobeyed me. In addition to that, you embarassed me in front of our guest."

Harry took a long look at his father. He'd embarassed his father. That made his stomach do a flip-flop that didn't feel good. The ache became worse as he realised Severus really wasn't happy with him at all. It had been awhile since his father was mad at him. He hoped he didn't yell because his yelling was kind of scary.

"I didn't mean to, Daddy," he whispered timidly. "I'm sorry. Are you going to yell at me?"

Severus took a deep, calming breath. He had discovered, quite by accident, that Harry was afraid of him when he yelled. It appeared that it reminded him all too much of the child's Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's voices. Petunia hit in addition to screeching like a banshee, but Vernon's voice was like thunder.

"I don't wanna go to bed!" Harry had backed himself into a corner in the sitting room and had his arms crossed stubbornly over his still thin chest.

"Harry, you've had a long day..."

"I don't... wanna... go... to... bed!"

Snape was late for his meeting with Draco and with exasperation, he yanked Harry up off the floor, carried him into his bedroom, and shouted, "Get into bed! Now!"

Scared, Harry scrambled under the covers, practically burying himself away from his father's angry voice.

"Don't you dare move, young man, or you'll really be in trouble. Understand?"

"Y-y-y-es," came the stuttered reply.

Snape whirled out of Harry's bedroom, shut the door and then cast a spell that would let him know if the little boy tried to leave. He then made his way to his office to meet with Draco. He never heard the little sniffle that came from under his son's blankets.

Snape returned to his and Harry's quarters about thirty minutes later. He was pleased at Draco Malfoy's offer to help keep Harry safe. It would also provide him with extra help when he couldn't keep an eye on his son, and couldn't immediately send him to Molly.

Pouring himself a brandy and retrieving a book he was reading, he sat down by the fireplace. He hadn't gotten very far in the book when he heard a door click open and feet clad in floppy slippers padding into the sitting room.

"Daddy?" Harry was at Snape's elbow, rubbing at red-rimmed eyes.

Has he been crying? What happened? "Did you have nightmare, child?" he asked gently. He put down his book and the brandy and reached for Harry, to lift him up in his lap but to his distress, Harry took a step back.

"Are you gonna spank me now?" Harry's voice was so quiet, Snape almost didn't hear him.

"Harry, why do you think I'm going to spank you? What's happened?"

The child sniffled sadly and swiped at a new tear that trickled down his cheek. "I was being bad and you yelled at me. Whenever Uncle Vernon yelled, that meant Aunt Petunia was going to punish me. So, are you going to spank me now, because I really am sorry for being bad boy. I promise I won't do it again! Really!"

Severus had been late. Harry hadn't wanted to go to bed. Angry, he'd shouted at his son. At the top of his lungs. And his beloved little Harry had just compared him to screeching Petunia Dursley and lard mountain Vernon Dursley. Snape dropped his head into his hands briefly. Could he have chosen a more spectacular way of screwing up?

Snape knew he couldn't wallow in his selfish despair at being a horrible father. Not with his child standing beside him, waiting for Hell to fall down upon him.

"Harry, I am so very sorry for yelling at you like I did. I truly wasn't thinking. I was just late, and, yes, you were behaving like a brat, but I just didn't have time... I was late for an appointment." His actions had made sense then, now he felt like an idiot. Shouldn't my son always take precedence over anything else?

"No spanking?" Harry asked, stepping a little closer to his father.

"No spanking. Come here." Harry climbed up onto his father's lap. "Did I frighten you with my yelling?" Harry nodded. Snape felt his hard heart crack painfully. "And did you cry?" Another nod and another crack in his heart. Drawing his child close to his chest, he thought to himself, I am a pitiful, greasy git of a parent.

Severus couldn't promise that he wouldn't ever yell again, but he did tell Harry that he would do his best never to yell at him when he was angry again. He had been angry and he had almost yelled at the table, but manners, practically beaten into him when he was a child, prevented him from doing so. Still, he was upset with the boy, but could he really blame him for what he'd done? Albus told him, mere minutes ago, that Harry was just being a normal child. The boy might have knowingly disobeyed his father, but he'd certainly not meant to make his father look the fool. Harry was the child of James Potter, but Severus had learned that Harry was much more like Lily than he was James. Harry had Lily's generosity of heart, and he truly cared about everyone. He could not bear to see anyone hurt.

Severus sat down on the edge of Harry's bed. "There really is no reason for me to yell at you, even though you misbehaved. I think the fact that I'm disappointed in you is punishment enough."

"I am sorry, but I was really, really curious, Daddy," Harry said contritely.

"I know you were. Someday, I ought to tell you the story about how Curiosity Killed the Cat." Harry grimaced as he thought of Hermione's ginger orange kneazle Crookshanks. Snape gave Harry one of his rare smiles. "Not tonight, then."

"Daddy, do you like Echo?" At his father's stern look he hastily amended, "I mean, like a friend."

Snape gave his son a thoughtful look. "I do find her company to be tolerable."

"Uhm... you sometimes look like you're afraid of her."

Snape snorted at that. Sometimes the mere prescence of the woman terrified him! "Let me tell you a secret, Harry, and this is just between us, as men. Women don't know this and we can't ever tell them, all right?"

Harry nodded and quickly sat up straighter so he could lean closer to his father. He loved secrets! "I won't tell," he whispered his promise.

"This is the secret," Snape spoke in a hushed voice close to the child's ear, "all men are afraid of women."

"Really?" Harry breathed in wonder. "Even grandpa?"

"Even grandpa. He's never had the nerve to tell Professor McGonagall how he feels about her."

Snape smirked as Harry's jaw dropped. "Grandpa loves Aunt Minnie?" Harry asked incredulously.

"He has for a very long time. However, you've seen how Minerva can get rather... hm, prickly?" Harry nodded. He loved Aunt Minnie, but she always looked like somebody smelled bad. Except when she smiled. "Well, Albus is scared of that."

Snape sighed. He'd watched Albus pine for the stern Deputy Headmistress and he'd never said anything. To either of them. Severus was not an interfering person. Now he wondered if maybe he shouldn't have done something more. If he weren't able to give Albus the Second Chance Potion, those two might never know how they both felt about each other and for the first time in his life, that loss between the only two adults he truly cared for, made his own heart ache.

"So how come He'mione and Ginny don't seem scary. Oh! And, Mrs. Weasley is only scary when she yells at Fred and George."

"Little girls aren't scary until they become grown up, Harry," he paused for a second, then decided that delving into the mysteries and peculiarities of the teenaged girl was not a subject he cared to address now. "Mrs. Weasley is no longer scary because she's married to Arthur." Snape had to sneer inwardly at what he was telling his son, but then he admitted, deep down, that perhaps what he was saying was true: women were rather frightening. Although he did find Echo's company pleasant, and it had been awfully nice when she'd held him that one time, he often felt tongue-tied and exceedingly awkward around her. It took every ounce of the skills he'd learned as a spy to keep the playing field level between them.

With childish logic, Harry delivered the killing blow. "So, if you married Echo, then you wouldn't have to be scared of her anymore, right?"

Snape sighed and then pulled his legs up onto Harry's bed and leaned his back against the headboard. He then helped his son to curl up against his side.

"I know you'd like to have a little brother or sister so you can be a big brother, Harry, but I need you to understand something. It's difficult, and it may be hard to understand because you're six years old, but you are the smartest six year old I know. So, listen carefully."

Harry shifted slightly sideways so he could easily look up at his father. He began playing with the buttons, idly, on his father's frock coat since he wasn't wearing his outer robes.

"Do you remember everything I told you about the evil wizard Tom Riddle and how Albus and I worked hard to fight him?"

"Vollymort," Harry nodded.

"Voldemort," Snape corrected with a small shudder. "And what did I tell you I did?"

Harry looked down at his father's left arm and ran his fingers tentatively along the sleeve that hid the Dark Mark. "Volly... Voldemort had other bad wizards as slaves called Death Eaters. You were a good wizard, but you were made a slave so you could help grandpa and his friends kill the evil wizard. You told me it was a very, very dangerous job."

"That it was, Harry. I worked very hard to keep alive, but I truly thought that one day I would be caught and killed."

"But you weren't!" smiled Harry.

Snape brushed the child's hair off his forehead. "No, I wasn't. I didn't know then that I would survive and because I was so certain I was going to die, I'd never made plans to have a family. When you came into my life, I was free for the first time in a very long time because evil Tom Riddle had been killed and would never, ever come back. You've been teaching me how to become a good parent, Harry, and because of you I have given serious thought to marrying someone, someday. However, I'm not certain I'm ready. I'm rather jealous of the time I have with you especially since you're growing so fast everyday."

"You like me because I'm little?" Harry asked slightly puzzled.

"I love you because you're my son."

"So, you don't want to share me?" Harry did understand most of what his father was saying, what he didn't understand was why it had to be so complicated. If his father wanted a wife, then he should just go get one. Echo was nice and pretty and she was close to his father's age. Didn't that mean they could get married?

"No, I suppose I'm not quite ready to share you, yet. That, and remember what I told you before, any woman I marry would have to love you just as much as I love you."

"But, Echo told me she liked you when we were on the ferris wheel, Daddy. And, she likes me and grandpa."

"Like isn't love, Harry."

Harry frowned and crossed his arms over his stomach. "You grown ups make things too hard," he muttered.

"That we do, child, but that is what adulthood is. The things that seemed so simple to us as children, is seen through different eyes, grown up eyes."

Harry stared at his father for a moment. "Well, that's just stupid," he declared with exasperation.

Snape chuckled and kissed Harry's forehead. "Perhaps it is, child, perhaps it is. However, I think you should leave it to me to find a wife and a mother for you. Allow me to do so when I think it is time, all right?"

Snape rose from Harry's bed and helped him scoot down into his covers. "Okay, but can you still like Echo?"

"She can still be a friend, Harry. Just like Minerva is."

"Good! G'night, Daddy."

At the doorway, Snape spoke softly, "Good night, Harry."

Right before the door closed, Harry's voice piped up, "Daddy?"

"Yes, child?"

"Is it okay if I call you 'dad' around Echo? I don't want her to think I'm a baby."

"That's perfectly fine, Harry. Now, go to sleep." A muffled g'night came from the blankets and Snape shut the door. He then raised the night wards that would alert him to late night wanderings, or nightmares.