Chapter 5 – Get into the Groove

“Sir? I’m really so-”

Potter stopped speaking abruptly as Severus slashed his hand violently in the air. He didn’t notice Potter flinch at the action or track his hand until he brought it back to his side. His shin was throbbing, and he wanted to go back to his room to inspect his leg, quaff down a Pain-Reliever, and maybe apply some dittany. Definitely some Bruise Paste.

He limped inside the house and awkwardly up two flights of stairs until he reached his room in the attic. He took off his trench coat and threw it across the room onto the chair. Summoning his potions kit, he sat on the bed and downed a Pain-Reliever, sighing in relief. Who knew a scrawny brat like Potter could kick like a mule?

Gingerly, he rolled up the hem of his trousers, wincing at the size of the bruise. His usually pale leg was black and blue. Picking out the Bruise Paste, he dabbed it delicately onto his shin. He’d placed a Tracking Charm on Potter the whole time, so, against his better judgement, he’d allowed Potter to go off alone with a three-year-old; he knew where Potter was the entire time. In that time, he’d done his own shopping, helped Jacqueline with hers, and had everything loaded into the car, and then they went to the entrance where they told Potter to wait for them.

In hindsight, it was silly of Severus to reach for Potter without letting him know he was there. He’d only meant to help Potter by relieving his burden. He didn’t know how long Alexandra had been sleeping, but he’d meant to help Potter, not harm him.

The drive back from Stockport had been in painful silence, literally for Severus. Jacqueline hadn’t chattered the whole time, which was uncharacteristic of her, but he appreciated the quiet. Now, having calmed down with his pain muted and leg tended to, Severus could reluctantly admire Potter’s swift and aggressive reaction.

With a mad murderer like Black after him, he couldn’t fault the boy for his reaction, as much as he didn’t appreciate it as it was happening thirty minutes ago. Severus had tuned out the boy’s rambling explanation but knew he needed to go speak to Potter. Later, though, he thought, tucking the Potion’s kit into the bedside drawer and lying back. Much like Alexandra, he needed a nap after the entire ordeal.

ooOoo

Harry sat on his cot, knees drawn up with his arms and head resting on his knees. His heart had stopped hammering in the car, but he was still anxious. Jacky tried to brush the whole thing under the rug and sent Harry inside, calling for the others to come and help with Lexi (who slept through the entire thing) and the shopping.

Harry had been glad for the reprieve but, on the other hand, felt like he was waiting for the axe to fall. A blustering and yelling Snape was easy to handle; as long as he was screaming at Harry, he would not be expected to make any explanations, not that Snape cared. A silent Snape reminded him of a silent Uncle Vernon – so much more dangerous because what comes next would be painful for Harry.

An hour or so later, a knock at the den door made Harry flinch, but he quickly calmed himself and, in an unexpectedly hoarse voice, called out, “Come in.”

To his surprise, Sarah poked her head through but didn’t enter the room, keeping the door partially closed.

“Hi Harry,” her voice was hesitant to begin with but continued firmly. “We kicked out Aunt Jacky from the kitchen and told her we’d make the meal for today. She brought us a recipe book. Are you okay with helping us?”

“Please, Harry?” Maya’s voice called from behind Sarah.

Sarah’s lips twitched.

“What about – where’s S-” he had to stop himself from saying Snape.

“Your dad’s in his room. Aunt Jacky went to check on him, but he’s fallen asleep,” Sarah told him. “So she made sure he was alright and left him to it.”

“We’re making pasta. Can you help us make pasta?” Maya called out again.

“Please?” Harry heard several voices call out.

Harry relaxed slightly.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah. I can make pasta. Er, I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Sarah smiled at him, looking pleased. “We’ll be in the kitchen.”

Harry took a deep breath as she left, closing the door behind her. He needed to calm down. He hadn’t hurt Snape on purpose; Snape must realise that. But Harry had grown up with the Dursleys, who never cared if Harry did things by accident or whether his intentions were well-meaning. Someone punished Harry regardless of what he meant. And no matter how friendly Snape’s muggle family was and how quickly they had accepted Harry into their fold for Christmas, Snape was still Snape. He still hated Harry for something that Harry had no control over. He hated Harry for reasons Harry didn’t understand. Snape was just like the Dursleys. He might like his own family, but he’d like it better if Harry didn’t exist.

Everything else was just pretend. So, now he needed to pretend that kicking Snape wasn’t a big deal. Snape couldn’t do anything to Harry in front of his muggle family, though he knew once they were back at Hogwarts, Snape would find a reason to have Harry in detention, even if he had to make it up.

Harry made a quick trip to the bathroom before making his way to the kitchen. Apart from Lexi, everyone else was already waiting there. Harry wondered if she was still napping or if Jacky was keeping her away. The youngest Snape had been remarkably patient with Harry during his shopping trip. Though apparently, she was quite a placid toddler around him, Lexi wasn’t averse to throwing tantrums. Luckily, Harry had distracted her with juice and sweets and included her in his decision-making, which might have helped keep her occupied. He needed to wrap everyone’s gifts tonight after everyone had gone to sleep.

“What kind of pasta are we making?”

“Well,” Brian started and showed Harry the recipe book his mum had picked up from Asda while she had been browsing. Harry was glad it was different from the book he had picked out for Jacky.

Harry impressed the others by knowing several recipes off by heart. Macaroni and cheese was the simplest pasta for the others to learn, so Harry showed them how to make that. Sarah turned on the oven to preheat it, and Brian set the pasta to boil.

Jacky had also bought minced beef, so Harry offered to make Spaghetti Bolognese.

“I thought your mum wanted to make a homemade sauce with the tomatoes from the garden?” Harry asked when he noticed the jars of Dolmio sauce.

Andrew snorted. “She always says that.”

“She tries; bless her,” Brian continued. “Mum only seems to be good at making jam. She doesn’t seem to care about other food.”

“At least she bought a recipe book,” Sarah pointed out.

Harry had never actually made sauce from scratch. Even Aunt Petunia used the jarred kind. Deciding they had plenty of time, he used the recipe book and tried to make it from scratch. He set Sarah to chop the tomatoes whilst he seasoned the beef for the Bolognese.

As was his habit at the Dursleys, he cleaned up as he went along. Aunt Petunia hated a messy kitchen, and with so many of them in the room, it was easier than letting the used dishes accumulate. The others protested that they’d do the cleaning at the end, but Harry insisted.

Being in the kitchen with the Snapes (and Rogers, as that was Jacky’s married name) was quite fun. It was easy for Harry to deflect any questions about himself. They already knew Harry went to the same school Snape taught, but they’d made it sound like Harry only got in because Snape was his dad and got him a discount on school fees. Harry never knew if he was good at sports because he was too busy defending himself from Dudley and his gang, so Harry just said he’d never been into sports.

He spoke about his friends briefly, telling them about Ron and Hermione and how they were celebrating Christmas abroad in Egypt and France, respectively. Talking about schoolwork was slightly more complicated, but Harry had seen enough of Dudley’s books to carry the conversation despite not having a muggle education since he turned eleven. He said he hated History because the teacher was boring, which was true enough. He told them Snape piled on loads of expectations about his school marks and end-of-year exams but made it sound like he was a hard taskmaster because he didn’t want Harry to embarrass him with the other teachers, especially since it was such a prestigious school for the gifted.

He steered clear of any conversation about his supposed parents, Mum and Step-Dad as much as he could but often substituted Petunia and Vernon’s behaviour for his fictional parents’.

Apart from all that, Harry made sure he always asked more about the others rather than answering for himself.

So he knew, though Sarah would like to be a doctor, she was struggling with biology and English Literature but was working hard on her coursework and passing her exams. Brian wanted to be a Vet like his dad in his practice with Alfred. Andrew hated school and was better at sports but felt like he had no direction. Maya was constantly being told by boys at school that she couldn’t do certain things because she was a girl, and wanted to prove them wrong. Laurel and Beth missed their mum a lot because she was always working at the hospital, but she’d promised that she’d be home for Christmas, which was why she was hardly home in the days leading up to it.

They all loved Nana Bea and had been worried when she’d fallen in the garden and were surprised that she’d ended up in a wheelchair for so long because they’d been led to believe the fall wasn’t serious. They told him this was the longest time they’d spent with their Uncle Severus because he only usually came around for Christmas Eve and left not long after dinner on Christmas Day. Harry had to think hard for the past two years and realised that maybe Snape wasn’t hiding from the Christmas cheer in the dungeons as Harry thought but actually spent some of that time here. He also knew Snape was Draco Malfoy’s godson; therefore, he must be close to their family and spend time at Malfoy’s house.

They knew very little about Snape. They knew he was brilliant to go to that prestigious school in Scotland and study for his degree in Chemistry. They were confused as to why he was a teacher since he was so clever. They knew he only cared about Nana Bea because she received more personal gifts than anyone else, whereas the other adults got something thoughtful but generic. The kids only got money in their cards for Christmas, which they didn’t mind.

“It’s actually better, to be fair,” Sarah was saying as she stirred the tomato sauce they were making. “At least we can buy what we want instead of pretending to like what he’s got us. I wish Uncle Edward would do that instead of sending us those horrible Christmas jumpers that itch like mad.”

Harry didn’t know who Uncle Edward was but understood Sarah’s sentiment.

“He sends money for our birthdays as well,” Andrew added. “Fifty quid, just like Christmas.”

Harry didn’t mention that Snape would probably give him the same. Of course, whatever Snape thought, Harry wasn’t a freeloader. He would give the money back to Snape. Unless he took the money from Harry like he’d suggested earlier after lunch, Harry would only get his own money back.

“Look, it’s starting to snow again,” Laurel pointed out excitedly.

They all peered out the kitchen window. It was getting darker, but Harry could see the white flakes as they drifted across the window. It had apparently snowed at some point before Harry arrived; however, since he’d come to Marple, they’d experienced more rain and sleet than snow.

“How long until the food’s ready?” Beth asked.

“There’s still some time, Beth,” Sarah shook her head exasperatedly.

“I’m hungry,” the younger girl complained.

“Eat an apple then,” Sarah snapped in the way older siblings tended to.

Harry had noticed how close they all were to each other. They acted like brothers and sisters rather than cousins, even though they lived in separate houses. He and Dudley had grown up in the same house, but they were cousins in name only. That was how the Dursleys treated them. Harry was Cinderella, and Dudley was his wicked stepsister. That made Petunia his wicked stepmother.  But then, what was Uncle Vernon? The other stepsister, Harry decided ridiculously. That must mean Hagrid was his fairy godmother, he mused. Then snorted at his train of thought.

“Where did you learn how to cook?” Andrew asked keenly, paying particular interest to Harry making the Bolognese.

Self-defence, Harry thought to himself, not for the first time.  He didn’t say this out loud, though. He shrugged instead and said, “I just spent a lot of time in the kitchen as I was growing up. My aunt encouraged my family to keep me interested, so I just learned as I went along.”

“We spent a lot of time in the kitchen as well,” Andrew gestured to his brother and himself. “We should have paid more attention than just eating the jam Mum made.”

“You interested now, aye?” Sarah teased.

“If Harry teaches me,” Andrew said, slanting a sly look in Harry’s direction.

“If you want,” Harry shrugged again. “Start with something simple, like pasta which you just boil according to packet instructions. It’s not that hard, especially if you’re using Dolmio sauce. Find one dish you’d like to eat and keep practising. Taste as you’re going along.”

Sometimes that was the only bit of food Harry could sneak at the Dursleys.

Andrew nodded thoughtfully. He leaned away to pick up the recipe book Jacky had brought. It was already stained with various sauces and oils, even though they’d had it no more than an hour or two.

True to their word, the kids didn’t let any of their parents into the kitchen that evening. The twins carefully opened the door enough for the others to pass through with the cutlery and crockery. Any conversations the parents wanted to have with the youngsters were either yelled through the firmly closed kitchen door or on the other side.

Harry was the last to go through the dining room, having finished the last of the washing up and ensuring the kitchen was cleaned up as much as possible. He even put away the pots and pans they’d used and gave the counters a good scrub.

Drying his hands on the towel, he picked up the bottles of Coke and 7Up and walked into the Dining room, where everyone smiled appreciatively over the food.

“Come on, Harry,” Sarah beckoned with a smile.

The adults were herded at one end of the table, whereas the children made spaces at the other.

“Why is all the food closest to you lot?” Jacky complained, taking the bottles of drink from Harry as he seated himself between Lexi and Andrew.

Harry carefully avoided Snape’s eyes as he sat down.

“Because we cooked it,” Laurel smiled. “And it’s only fair we should try it first.”

“That’s unfair. When I cook, the food is always distributed evenly throughout the table,” Jacky frowned.

“Your food is awful, Mum,” Brian said bluntly. “So, everyone suffers equally.”

“Yeah, Mum. If it were up to you, we’d all be surviving on bread and jam,” Andrew joined in.

Alfred snorted in laughter but held his hands in surrender when Jacky directed her glare at him.  

“Lay off, you lot,” Barry defended, though he also had a smile. Placing an arm around her shoulder, he quipped, “I married your mother because of her jam.”

“She knew you liked it, so she made herself good at making it,” Alfred muttered.

Jacky nodded. “It worked, didn’t it? And anyway, be careful, or you might find yourself in the kitchen more often.”

Andrew shrugged, “Eh, we can handle that.”

“As long as we have Harry,” Brian tagged on.

“Enough talking. I’m starving. Can’t we start?” Sarah asked.

“Here, here,” Alfred and Barry said together.

For the next several minutes, all that was heard was the clinking of cutlery on plates and the spoons scraping in bowls as everyone served themselves. Harry spooned a small portion of macaroni onto Lexi’s plate and poured her a small glass of Coke before helping himself.  

“Pass me the salad, will you,” Jacky demanded. Her plate was already heaped with spaghetti and macaroni before she added some salad to it.

“The macaroni is perfect,” Barry complimented, taking up another forkful.

“What did you add to the Dolmio?” Nana Bea asked, tasting her Bolognese carefully.

“We didn’t use Dolmio,” Sarah told her.

“Harry made a fresh sauce,” Andrew added.

“Well done, Harry,” Barry praised. “We’ve never had food like this.”

Jacky huffed, but Harry was pleased (and relieved) to see she wasn’t taking it personally. In fact, she even reached for a second serving.

At Barry’s look, she said, “What? I’m eating for two. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, no, no,” Barry spoke hastily, wary of his wife’s wrath. “More Macaroni?”

“Yes, please,” she said, holding up her plate for Barry to spoon more pasta.

Harry felt a tug on his sleeve and turned his attention to Lexi. She pointed to the Spaghetti Bolognese.

“You want to try some of that?”

Lexi nodded, so Harry carefully added it to her plate. He topped up her glass with Lemonade instead of Coke but poured water from the jug into his own. The Dursleys never allowed him to drink fizzy drinks, though Dudley could do so to his heart’s content. The wizarding world had an array of fruit juices, yet nothing fizzy, which he found strange. However, having sampled Coke and other fizzy drinks at the Snapes, he decided that he preferred his beverages fizz-free.

“Did you make dessert as well?” Alfred asked hopefully, running his finger through the leftover sauce on his plate and popping it into his mouth.

“Apple crumble,” Beth beamed.

“No custard,” Sarah added. “We have ice cream in the freezer, though.”

“That’s acceptable,” Alfred nodded, then laughed as the kids sent him glares.

Seeing everyone was done, the twins looked at each other. “We’ll take the dishes through and bring back the crumble.”

“And ice cream,” Laurel piped in.

“You lot can wash them,” Andrew told them.

“That’s fair,” Barry nodded agreeably.

Dishwashing duty was often shared amongst the family.

Harry noticed Snape ate his meal silently and barely contributed to the conversation around him.

Leaving the younger girls at the table, the twins, Sarah and Harry carried through the dirty dishes back to the kitchen, carefully stacking them in the sink. Andrew opened the oven door and pulled out the Apple crumble dish. Sarah pulled out the giant tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezer. Between them, Harry and Brian grabbed new bowls from the cupboards and spoons (plus the ice cream scoop) and carried the whole lot back to the Dining room.

“That smells wonderful,” Nana Bea admired, craning her neck towards the dessert. “I do adore Apple crumble. You children have really stepped up today.”

“Custard would have been nice, though,” Jacky said.

“Ungrateful,” Andrew shook his head.

“We slaved away in the kitchen all afternoon for this,” Brian sighed.

“Drama queens,” Jacky muttered with a smirk.

“Apple crumble, please,” Lexi inserted, holding up her bowl.

That earned the three-year-old some chuckles, but no one wasted time digging into the huge dessert dish. Harry served himself a small portion of the crumble and decided against the ice cream. He preferred custard as well, but there’d been no cream in the fridge and none of the powdered stuff either, so he hadn’t been able to make any from scratch.

“Are you serving us tea as well?” Barry asked, leaning back in his chair with an air of satisfaction.

“Nope,” Maya answered, scraping the last of her ice cream, making everyone wince at the noise. “But I’ll have two sugars in mine.”

Jacky rolled her eyes.

“Half a job,” she mumbled but obligingly pushed back her chair. Still smiling, she said, “Excellent nosh, children. I formally hand the kitchen over to you lot. Forever. This lady’s on strike.”

“We’ll negotiate,” Sarah said after a brief pause in which the teens exchanged glances.

“Oh, we will,” Jacky promised with a laugh.

Harry hesitated briefly, feeling like he should help with the rest of the dishes. However, Lexi and Maya were already pulling him into the sitting room. Leaving the adults to take care of clearing the table, he smiled as the chatter of the others washed over him.

“Can we play Ludo?” Laurel asked.

ooOoo

Severus kept his sigh to himself, not looking forward to the cleaning if he was honest. He usually didn’t mind, but knowing how messy children could be, he expected the kitchen to look like Longbottom’s cauldron after an explosion.

So, when he walked (limped) into the kitchen (the first to do so), he froze with his arm full of dirty bowls as he stared around in disbelief. Bartholomew, who followed behind him holding several glasses, bumped into him.

“How bad is it?” Jacqueline asked in a resigned sort of voice from behind them, assuming the kitchen would be in shambles.

Severus stepped aside, still looking around. Slowly they all filed in, each giving the other a look of incredulity.

“You know,” Alfred said thoughtfully, “I genuinely believed they would be tomatoes spattered on the ceiling and spaghetti stuck to the wall. I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“They’ve even washed the pots and pans,” Jacqueline commented, bottles of drinks in each hand.

“I’ll stick the kettle on and make tea,” Alfred said, placing the almost empty crumble dish on the counter. They were saving the last bit for Gloria when she got back from work.

“I’ll put away the leftovers,” Jacqueline volunteered.

“That leaves Severus and me to the dishes,” Bartholomew said dryly. “Funny how that worked out.”

“I know, right?” Jacqueline grinned, reaching into a cupboard above the counter for Tupperware.

Severus and Bartholomew placed their dirty dishes into the sink. Severus held back another sigh as he rolled up his sleeves, reached for the sponge, and ran the tap with hot water.

Bartholomew went back to the Dining room to gather the rest of the glasses. Alfred reached into another cupboard to retrieve enough mugs for everyone and grabbed the canister that held the tea bags. Severus began scrubbing away with the sponge, resigned to his task. He would let Bartholomew collect the rest of the dishes, Severus would soap them up, and the other man would rinse them off and stack them.

Jacqueline moved about the kitchen, retrieving empty butter and ice cream tubs to place the leftovers into.

“The children did really well cooking,” Alfred commented idly, dropping a tea bag into each mug.

“They probably helped,” Jacqueline said. “But I reckon Harry did the lion’s share of it. He seems pretty comfortable around the kitchen. His mother might be a conniving bitch, but she’s at least taught the boy some useful skills. He can cook and kick arse.”

Severus froze at the words before scrubbing the plate he was holding harder. He didn’t notice Jacqueline exchanging smirks with her brother.

“How’s your leg, by the way?” Jacqueline asked. “Do you need any painkillers? Should Gloria take a look at it when she gets in?”

Severus tried to discern whether his cousin was making fun before realising she was genuinely concerned.

“It’s fine,” he said curtly. “I took a painkiller earlier.”

“You should be proud of him,” Jacqueline continued, smiling at Severus. “He reacted very fast, and he was ready to run.”

“And he was defending my child,” Alfred added, reaching into another cupboard to pull out a couple of trays. “I might have four of them, but it doesn’t mean I could lose one and not feel it.”

“He did well,” Severus agreed stiffly, not looking at any of them, nodding at the plate in his hand.

“Make  sure you tell him that, won’t you, Severus?” Jacqueline implored, closing the refrigerator door. “The poor boy was traumatised by the whole thing. He looked like he was expecting you to kick him back.”

Severus didn’t see Alfred study him carefully at that comment.

“I was unaware of how easily startled he can be,” Severus murmured without looking at any of them. It was not a reaction Severus could fault him for, given that Black was still after the boy. In fact, that was probably why the boy was so jumpy.

“What are the plans for tomorrow, then?” Bartholomew asked.

“Well,” Jacqueline began, “since the children are more willing to help with the cooking, I may get them to help me in the kitchen-“

“Oh, please do,” Alfred begged.

Bartholomew snorted in laughter.  

“We’ll spend the morning cleaning up the house, the afternoon planning Christmas dinner and the evening having fun,” Jacqueline concluded.

“Are we sleeping over again?” Bartholomew asked, rinsing off the glasses Severus had run a sponge over.

“Don’t you always?” Alfred said dryly.

“It’s tradition,” Jacqueline nodded.

Severus sighed internally once more as he sponged the last of the glasses. This was the longest he’d spent with his family. He usually spent the night on Christmas Eve and left shortly after Christmas dinner.  He still had another week to go, and to be honest, he was quickly reaching his limit. He knew he only had himself to blame for this predicament. If he had kept his trap shut a decade ago about having a son, he would not have agreed to spend two weeks with his muggle family now, with Potter of all people.

It wasn’t as bad as Severus thought it would be if he was brutally honest. He spent more time with Nana Bea when he wasn’t holed up in the attic. At least he wouldn’t be expected to share his room with anyone. He held back a snort at the thought of Potter having to share the Den with the twins. Maya and Sarah would bunk in Bethany and Laurel’s room, while Jacqueline and Bartholomew would end up in Sarah’s room.

He already had the children’s cards ready, with the usual cash he included. The adult’s gifts were also wrapped. He just needed to add them to the pile they would soon begin underneath the Christmas tree. As he watched Alfred and Bartholomew carry the two trays of tea between them into the Sitting room, he counted down the days until he could go back to Hogwarts and put this all behind him.

ooOoo

Harry was on his hands and knees, wrapping up one of the presents he’d bought only that morning when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he called after shoving the whole thing under his cot.

As expected, it was Snape.

Harry scrambled hastily to his feet, his heart hammering. He took a step back as Snape walked in. He knew Snape was closing the door for privacy and didn’t think the wizard would actually hit him (he hoped), but it didn’t quell the anxiety any.

“How's your leg?” Harry asked as Snape looked around the room before settling his gaze on him.

“Attached,” Snape answered dryly, crossing his arms across his chest.“Despite your attempts to kick it loose.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry offered. He swallowed hard. It never worked with Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia, though they liked hearing Harry say it. “I didn’t –”

He cut himself off as Snape raised his hand abruptly to silence him. He missed the strange look Snape gave him as Harry followed the hand without taking his eyes off it.

“Potter,” Snape began, “I came to tell you that –” he cleared his throat, “I am not angry at you for kicking me. In fact, I may have been cross if you hadn’t. Black is still at large, and your swift reaction showed you were not taking the situation lightly. And what’s more, you also protected Alexandra when you thought she was in danger. I may not be close to my family, Potter, but they are mine nonetheless. And so far, I am surprised and pleased at how well you’ve held up your end of the bargain. Even if you agreed to the whole thing to continue playing Quidditch next season.”

Harry, who had been feeling delighted at Snape’s words, was glad he hadn’t been smiling, as the smile would only have fallen swiftly from his face after the last words. On the one hand, he could understand why Snape thought what he did. On the other hand, it surprised Harry how much it hurt him that Snape actually thought that about him. Not because Harry had a high opinion of Snape or because he even wanted his professor’s good opinion.

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied, in lieu of something to say.

Snape gave him a nod and left. Harry didn’t relax for several minutes, staying where he was before kneeling down and retrieving the gift he was wrapping.

When Harry first stepped into Hogwarts, he wanted to prove that he wasn’t what the Dursleys thought he was. Growing up, he knew it wasn’t normal to have a cupboard for a bedroom. He knew it wasn’t right to be treated as he was by his own family. The trouble was, he had no one to turn to. No one he could trust. Truthfully, he had never even tried. Drawing attention to himself was always bad.

He didn’t really care about Snape’s opinion of him, though he didn’t like it. He wasn’t a freak like how the Dursleys thought. He wasn’t arrogant like his father, no matter what Snape thought. He never expected the rules to be bent for him, but he wasn’t above taking advantage of it when they were. Otherwise, he would never have joined the Quidditch team in the first place.

In the end, it didn’t matter what Snape thought, Harry told himself. He would do what he needed to survive, just like he planned with the Dursleys. Just four more years of school, and he would be shed of Snape and the Dursleys. Maybe he’d go travelling. Find a corner of the earth where no one had heard of him. Maybe he could be a Curse Breaker like Bill. Maybe he could have a family like Snape had, except he’d appreciate them more.

Snape might be a bastard, Harry thought to himself as he wrapped up Sarah’s puzzles, but his family was great. Snape should appreciate them more.

ooOoo

Christmas Eve

Harry was on his hands and knees as he scrubbed the kitchen floor. It was the exact scenario he had wanted to avoid at the Dursleys. Except here, Harry found he didn’t mind too much. For one, he wasn’t alone. At the Dursleys, his relatives would only have been around to berate him.

The difference between being a House Elf for the Snapes and a House Elf for the Dursleys, was that he had help at the Snapes. Despite much grumbling from the children, they reluctantly accepted the tasks Jacky had assigned them.

Harry and Andrew were cleaning and organising the kitchen. Well, mostly Harry was cleaning and organising, with Andrew helping every so often. After Harry had moved to sweep the floor, Andrew retreated to the kitchen table with a notebook and pen and scribbled the ideas for cooking the Christmas Dinner in the morning. Andrew had never actually helped in the kitchen before, always letting his mother do the cooking, even though they never enjoyed what she made and had no other choice. But seeing Harry, who was younger than the twins, actually comfortable around the kitchen had inspired the otherwise ambitionless boy.

Sarah was cleaning up the rest of the house. Brian and Snape were outside, spreading rock salt across the drive and various paths around the house as the forecast was for heavy snow. Jacky was actually at her own home, cleaning the house alone, insisting it was easier and quicker without having everyone underfoot. Gloria, who had worked in the days leading up to Christmas, was resting peacefully, ‘supervising’ from the other room, dividing her time between them all. Harry hadn’t spent as much time with Alfred’s wife as she had been working every day since he’d arrived, so he didn’t know what she was like. Alfred and Barry were out with Nana Bea, also the rest of the children who insisted on going along, doing some last-minute food shopping and avoiding being assigned more cleaning chores after being directed to clean their bedrooms.

Harry and Andrew had managed to clean and organise the cupboards and pantry in the last few hours. There was very little in there to organise, to be fair. Given they lived on a farm and grew most of their fresh ingredients, even if the children insisted Jacky wasn’t the greatest at utilising them, their stock had very little in the way of canned ingredients. And given the number of people between both households, what little they did have was used quite often.

Even during school terms, as the school for Primary and Secondary age children was in close proximity to each other, everyone tended to gather at Alfred’s house and often took their meals together. While Gloria was at work, Jacky was free to tend the house and look after Nana Bea during the daytime and Lexi, who wasn’t old enough to start Nursery school yet.

Having finished the kitchen, Harry put away the mop and bucket. He left Andrew at the kitchen table, muttering away over his notebook and entered the Sitting room.

“Do you need any help?” Harry offered to Sarah, carefully dusting one of the display cabinets with their family photos.

“Yes, please,” Sarah said gratefully, turning on the chair she was standing on to reach the top. “Would you mind doing the hoover for me? It’s the only thing left.”

Harry nodded and went to fetch the hoover from the storeroom just off the kitchen. After carefully brushing up the pine needles around the Christmas Tree, he hoovered not only the Sitting room but also the Dining room, the downstairs landing, the staircase itself and the upstairs landing. He had to then carry the bulky hoover back downstairs and shove it back into the storeroom. He wiped down the dining table and the small coffee table in the Sitting room.

“That’s it,” Sarah said with a pleased smile and a satisfied nod. “Andrew still in the kitchen?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered.

“Are you and Andrew all done as well, Harry?” Gloria asked, entering the Sitting room.

“Come on, Mum. Do your inspection,” Sarah rolled her eyes.

Gloria smiled at her daughter but gave the Sitting room a once over.

“There’s a little dust on the mantle, and you missed the mirror over there completely, and there’s a streak on the display cabinet from the dirty cloth you were using,” Gloria said critically.

Ignoring her daughter’s gasp of outrage, she continued, “At least you’ve done the hoover properly, and you got the stubborn stain off the coffee table.”

With a sigh, Sarah admitted, “Harry did those.”

“Well done, Harry,” Gloria praised. “Maybe you could teach my daughter a thing or two about cleaning up.”

“So unappreciative,” Sarah grumbled, crossing her arms across her chest though there was no heat in her words. “Let’s see how the kitchen is, then.”

Harry nervously followed them both to the kitchen.

“My goodness,” he heard Gloria gasp.

“Wow,” Sarah echoed.

“Is it okay?” Harry asked a trifle anxiously. “Did I miss something?”

Gloria didn’t answer straight away, too busy looking at the floor in what seemed like wonder.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Andrew asked with a touch of pride, looking up from his notebook.

“Did your dad replace the tiles on the floor while I’ve been working?” Gloria asked, bending forward to inspect the floor, looking close to falling on her knees for a closer look.  

“No. Don’t think so. Not unless he’s done it in the last few hours.” Sarah said with an incredulous laugh as she looked around in disbelief. She walked to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. “The tile’s still cracked down here.”

“Gracious, lads. You’ve even cleaned the window sill and the windows,” Gloria commented, slowly spinning around the kitchen, taking it all in.

“We have worked really hard on this,” Andrew took the compliment with aplomb.

Both Gloria and Sarah gave the boy a look.

Deflated, Andrew admitted, “All right, so Harry scrubbed everything till it sparkled. But I helped with the cupboards and the fridge.”

“The fridge?”

“We cleaned the shelves and drawers inside the fridge as well,” Andrew told them proudly.

Gloria strode towards the integrated fridge and pulled the door open. Harry and Andrew had cleaned and organised everything in the refrigerator as well.

“It looks almost new,” Gloria said faintly. “You even got out that weird green stain.”

“Does it look okay?” Harry asked again, hesitantly.

“Okay?” Gloria repeated. “Sweetheart, this is brilliant.”

She closed the door and whirled around, giving them a manic look.

“Out,” she said suddenly. “Come on, out. No one’s allowed in here right now. Let’s not mess this up again.”

Andrew gave his aunt a dubious and exchanged a look of amusement with his cousin.

“I don’t think we’re getting Christmas dinner this year,” Sarah said with amusement as she led the way back to the Sitting room.

Andrew snorted in agreement, looking over his notebook.

“Yeah, Aunt Glory won’t want to mess up that kitchen,” he laughed.

“Can I add my presents under the tree?” Harry asked. He’d finished wrapping them all up last night.

Both Sarah and Andrew looked at him in surprise and then at the space under the tree.

“Sure,” she shrugged, looking back. “I can bring mine down now.”

“Either of you need help?” Andrew offered. “Mum brings all ours together.”

“It’s all right,” Harry said.

“You can help me,” Sarah said instead. “I’ll ask Mum if she wants to start bringing hers down as well.”

Harry’s gifts were in his school bag, so he needed to grab the bag and add the presents under the tree without them seeing his Mary-Poppins-style bag. They’d decorated the tree together the second night he’d arrived and even let him add some fairy lights and baubles. Alfred had lifted Lexi above his head to let her add the angel at the top.

Sarah had to physically drag her mother away from the kitchen, looking exasperated as Gloria called out, “No one goes in the kitchen.”

Harry quickly fetched his bag and emptied his gifts once they were all out of sight. They were away long enough that he placed them all carefully under the tree, a little to the side to give the others space to add theirs as well.

He came back out of the Den after hiding his empty school bag once more. Just in time as the other three came down laden with many gift-wrapped items. Harry hurried over to help Gloria, taking the top few gifts that looked like they might topple over. Sarah and Gloria had to go up once more to fetch more before they were done. By the way they positioned the presents under the tree, he could tell they were expecting more. Probably the ones from Jacky’s house.

“I’m back, children!” Harry heard Jacky call from the front door.

“So are we!” Alfred called.  

“That was well-timed,” Gloria commented. “Harry, you come with me. Sarah, Andrew, help them bring the shopping in. No one goes into the kitchen.”

Rolling their eyes, the other two moved off to help their parents.  

ooOoo

“Who’s making tea?” Alfred asked as he fiddled with the log fire. The heating had already been on low, so the house had been warm and toasty. However, after the chill from outside, Alfred wasted no time cranking it up higher while lighting the fireplace simultaneously.

The younger girls all fought over sitting on the floor closest to the fire.

“Good luck convincing Mum to let anyone use the kitchen,” Sarah scoffed from the floor as she helped Jacky stack everyone else’s parents neatly.

“Why?” Alfred asked, turning to his daughter.

They were interrupted by Severus and Brian, who came stomping in noisily. Severus’ usually pale complexion was slightly pink from the biting wind and cold outside. Alfred didn’t miss the way Severus made for the fireplace, leaning gratefully over the mantle for warmth. Alfred and Barry always kept the shed stocked with rock salt over winter to keep their footpaths and drives as snow-free as possible. With the heavy snow forecast for tonight, it was vitally important that they kept the roads and drives clear. Though he and Barry closed their Veterinary practice for the week over Christmas, they still responded to emergency callouts for the surrounding farmers. Severus and Brian had to do a thorough job and spent all morning outside, most likely.

“Step away from the presents,” Alfred absently warned his youngest girls as they eagerly eyed the gifts displayed.

Alfred would have to sneak away to wrap a few last-minute presents, but at least Gloria had brought down the ones from their bedroom.

“I could murder for a tea,” Brian said, planting himself in front of the fireplace, with his back towards the fire, dancing from foot to foot with his hands behind his back. He sighed as he slowly began to warm up.

“You’ll have to murder Mum first, or she’ll kill you for stepping foot in her precious kitchen,” Sarah snorted.

“What? Why?”

Everyone looked at Sarah in askance.

“Go and see for yourself,” Sarah said mischievously. “If you dare.”

They all looked at each other in confusion. Severus and Brian looked reluctant to leave the warmth of the fire but gamely followed Alfred and Jacky (who Barry hauled to her feet) towards the kitchen.

Nana Bea was in her wheelchair, blocking the door to the kitchen, having wedged it wide open but not quite crossing the threshold.

“Nana, why aren’t you going in?” Brian asked, reaching for the wheelchair handles to presumably push the chair in.

“I’ve been forbidden by your aunt,” Nana Bea said laughingly. “The wheels on my chair are too dirty for her kitchen, apparently. I daresay I quite agree.”

Exchanging looks of confusion and curiosity with each other (though Sarah was still grinning like a madwoman), they fought to lean over Nana Bea and her wheelchair to peer into the kitchen.

“Is that our kitchen?” Jacky asked in amazement.

“It’s in our house,” Alfred answered in astonishment.

He could see why Sarah thought Gloria wouldn’t allow them to enter the kitchen.

Gloria, Andrew and Harry were putting away the last of the shopping with more care than they ever had.

“I want to see,” Bethany demanded from the back of the group.

“No one comes in,” Gloria barked, seeing them crowding and jostling around the door to gander into the kitchen.

“Are you making us some tea, then?” Jacky asked hopefully.

“And hot chocolate?” Maya piped up from the back.

“We’ll bring it all out to you,” Gloria told them. “No one else steps foot in here.”

Barry and Andrew turned away after one last look around the gleaming kitchen. Severus and the other children took another peak and followed. Alfred noticed Severus’ eyes stray to Harry and didn’t miss the flash of anger before his cousin’s eyes smoothed back into the impassive look the other man usually sported.

Alfred felt his own brows furrow in concern and confusion. Why would Severus be angry with Harry?

He’d watched both father and son since they stepped foot in Alfred’s home. Harry was polite, well-mannered and hard-working. The complete opposite of how Severus had described him on their first night.

Severus was wholly taciturn about his personal life. Despite having known his cousin since Severus’ parents passed away at sixteen, Alfred could safely say Severus was a mystery. Severus rarely spoke to the rest of the family, his entire time dedicated to Nana Bea when he was around.

Apart from a few hours over Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, Severus might only come for a handful of hours over the summer holidays. Nana Bea was the most important to him, as he rarely bothered to speak to anyone else; even then, it was with great reluctance.

When Severus confessed to having a broken relationship and an even more broken one with his son, they were all surprised. Even that confession had to be dragged from him. It was apparent to see that Severus and Harry weren't very close at all. Their relationship could only be described as cooly polite and strained to anyone watching. Yet, from what Alfred had observed, they were close in that they seemed to share a secret. Severus sniped at Harry, but it was not the same good-natured banter he shared with his children. However, that father and son duo didn’t have the same camaraderie that Alfred and Gloria had with their own children or what Jacky and Barry shared with theirs

When Severus had accepted the invitation to stay for the entire Christmas holidays and confirmed he would be bringing his son along with him, they were shocked Severus had finally agreed, or rather that he had managed to persuade his bitch of an ex. Severus didn’t speak of the mysterious Claudia any more than he spoke of Harry. He was very tight-lipped about his former girlfriend and son, even with Nana Bea, whom he cared about more than anyone else.

To be frank, Nana and the elders almost convinced themselves Severus might have been lying about having a son. Something they hadn’t shared with the children. To the children, Severus’s son was an unknown cousin. To everyone’s delight, Harry was easy to get along with.

With eager trepidation, they all looked forward to seeing Harry Snape for the first time. It was not until Harry arrived that they realised they hadn’t even known the boy’s name, despite being aware of his existence for nearly ten years. Whatever happened between Severus and Claudia was so bad that she hadn’t let Severus anywhere near his son for many years. Severus still had an ongoing custody battle. In fact, the way Severus had told it, each concession from Claudia regarding Harry was hard-won.

From what little Alfred had been told about Claudia, he had expected Harry to be like her in that she was bitter, cold and cruel. As much as he and the others were looking forward to meeting with Harry for the first time, they were still cautious about whether he would really fit in with the family.

To everyone’s surprise, Harry fit in quite nicely. Better than Severus, even. Apart from the black hair and skinny frame (bordering on scrawny), Harry shared nothing in common with the rest of the Snape family. Nothing about his facial structure, lanky build, or pale skin showed he was a Snape. Harry’s beautiful emerald green eyes, definitely not found from the Snape side of the family, must come from his mother’s side. However, it took Alfred a matter of days to realise why the look in them was so familiar. It was a look he’d recognised in Severus’ eyes after he’d come to live with Nana Bea after Tobias passed away. It was a look that Alfred and Jacky saw in the mirrors growing up.

He knew Jacky had picked up the same thing he did. So had Nana Bea. They were worried about Harry. Warm, wonderful little Harry, who was so helpful and grateful and fitted in so well with the whole brood. It sickened Alfred to think that Harry had suffered the same way Alfred and Jacky had at the hands of their father or the way Severus had at the hands of his own. They had scars to show for it, though Alfred hoped Harry’s scars weren’t physical like the elder Snapes.

At first, Alfred had suspected Harry might have been suffering under his mother and stepfather and desperately hoped that Severus would soon get full custody of his son. Though now, having seen that flash of anger in Severus’ eyes, maybe Claudia had reason to keep Severus and his son apart from each other. Alfred hadn’t missed the flinches when Severus was close to Harry. He didn’t miss the way Harry waited until everyone served themselves before he served himself. Didn’t miss the surprise and gratitude when he was included in the activities. Didn’t miss the way Harry jumped to be helpful. Didn’t miss the way the boy’s eyes tightened at the subtle digs at his so-called lazy nature that Severus liked to aim in Harry’s direction.

Looking around the impressively gleaming kitchen, he knew Harry had probably done the bulk of the work. Whatever Severus thought about Harry, it was wrong. He had grown quite fond of the boy in a short time. All his family had. And if he had to fight Severus for the boy, then he wouldn’t hesitate to do so.

ooOoo

While the others were downstairs, Severus calmly went about his ritual of casting Silencing Charms around the children’s bedrooms. Alexandra had fallen asleep into her hot chocolate, and the others had valiantly tried to stay up late before finally being chivvied to bed.

They’d left out mince pies and a glass of milk for Father Christmas and carrots for his reindeer. The adults gathered the remaining presents for the children from ‘Father Christmas’. He knew from experience that the children were more sensitive on Christmas Eve, eager to get up at the slightest noise to catch the red-costumed gift-giver in the act, so he helped by using magic to ensure the adults were undisturbed as they stayed up later to polish off the mince pies and spiked milk.

Andrew and Brian had been given sleeping bags and joined Potter in the den. Sarah joined her sisters in their rooms, giving up her bedroom for Jacqueline and Bartholomew.

Nana Bea was in her bedroom, converted several years ago, when she’d begun to have trouble with the stairs. A new bathroom had been converted from an old store room, specially adapted for the disabled, next to Nana’s bedroom. Potter shared this bath with Nana Bea, and Severus hoped the brat wasn’t making a mess in there.

Potter was in a world of trouble for using his wand to clean the house; otherwise, how else would he have got everything gleaming as he had? He’d done the same thing in Severus’s house in Liverpool, and to use magic in a house full of muggles because he was too lazy to do it the muggle way and got special dispensation from the Ministry was beyond the pale. The dispensation was for emergencies only, not for menial labour.

He’d be having words with that boy.

He reluctantly joined the others back in the Sitting room, taking the seat closest to Nana, who reached out a withered hand for his in a pleasantly firm grip. She gave him a smile.

“It’s so good to have the whole family together,” she said, not letting go of his hand. “Your Harry’s such a good lad. Nothing like what you’d led us to believe.”

“Was your ex having you on about Harry being a problem child?” Alfred questioned, reaching for a mince pie.

With his free hand, Severus took one of the carrots from the plate Bartholomew offered around.

When Severus didn’t answer, Jacqueline speculated, “She must have been trying to put you off to keep custody for himself. There’s not a bad bone in that boy’s body.”

He chomped grumpily into his carrot to avoid answering. How in the hell did Potter manage to charm his muggle family? There’s no justice in the world.

“Would your ex be willing to bring Harry over the summer holidays?” Alfred asked, taking the last carrot for himself.

“Not all of them, of course. Surely, he’ll be allowed to come over for a week or two,” Jacqueline tacked on hurriedly. “He’s welcome back at Christmas any time. He fits right in.”

Severus froze, wondering how to avoid the request. He’d spent so much time emphasising Potter to be on his best behaviour that the boy had done too good a job. Too late, he realised he should have allowed him to be his usual unruly self. If he’d done that, then Potter’s characteristic horrible behaviour would have deterred his family from inviting the boy over again. Never again would he have been harrassed by Nana and his cousins to meet his son. Such a missed opportunity. Now he needed to do damage control and see if he could get Potter to adjust his behaviour to be ruder.

He missed the looks Nana Bea exchanged with the others, too busy avoiding the other’s eyes.

“Everything all right, Severus?” Gloria prodded with apparent concern.

“I’m fine,” he answered abruptly.

“How’s your leg?” she asked. “Alfred told me –”

“It’s fine,” Severus replied even more abruptly. “I’ve already taken painkillers.” 

“Well, your limp’s almost gone,” she said, reaching for a mince pie.

“Oh,” Alfred said in realisation, “I made you go out in the cold to salt the drive. Severus, I’m sorry that was thoughtless of me.”

“Don’t worry,” Severus told him. “Moving about helped, and I warmed up around the fire easily enough.”

“Is it bruised?” Bartholomew asked, offering him a brandy glass, which Severus took gratefully.

“A little,” he admitted.

“With how hard Harry kicked, I’m surprised it didn’t snap. Pity the boy doesn’t play football,” Jacqueline snorted. “You should have seen his face when he realised it was. He looked so worried.”

Severus didn’t want to revisit this topic yet again.

“I’ve already spoken to him,” he told them, hoping to get off the topic once and for all. “He knows I’m not angry with him.”

“That’s good,” Nana Bea added gently. “The poor boy wouldn’t come out of his room. The children had to coax him out. It was their idea to kick Jacky out of the kitchen; they hoped to distract him from his thoughts.”

“I’m sure they had no ulterior motive at all,” Jacqueline added dryly, picking crumbs from the pastry from her swollen belly and popping them into her mouth.

“At least his mother taught him some skills,” Gloria commented, tucking into another mince pie. “He can cook, and he can clean.”

Severus suppressed a snort. The cooking skills might be impressive, but the cleaning skills were pure magic.

“And watching Harry in the kitchen has inspired Andrew to learn to cook,” Jacqueline praised.

Severus desperately wished they would stop waxing lyrical about Potter’s non-existent skills. It was all acting – it must be.

“As long as he’s not inherited your cooking skills,” Alfred quipped, then laughed as he dodged the crumpled foil the mince pie came in at him.

“Bad cooking must definitely be a Snape thing,” Bartholomew commented, exchanging commiserating looks with Gloria.

“Like you can talk, Mr Burnt Toast,” the pregnant woman scoffed, taking a sip of her milk.

“Gloria’s the only one of us skilled enough in the kitchen,” Alfred bragged.

“I hate cooking,” Gloria confessed. “Ten-minute cooking is my limit. Keep it simple. That’s my rule.”

“She’d rather clean up puke,” Alfred muttered into his brandy glass, which Gloria didn’t dispute.

Looking at Severus plaintively, Jacqueline asked, “Think Harry would mind helping out with Christmas Dinner tomorrow?”

“I’m sure he won’t,” Severus volunteered the boy. Christmas Dinner would be significantly more challenging than sticking things in the oven, grossly underestimating the boy’s effort. At the very least, Potter seemed efficient with a knife. Considering his successes so far, perhaps the brat’s luck would hold, and they might have something edible tomorrow.

Later today, he amended, as he looked at the time.

Thankfully, they moved on from talking about Potter. Though he still had to listen to conversations about the pets they were treated in their clinic, Gloria’s annoying co-workers and whatever clever or dumb thing their children did. Severus never added to these conversations, tolerating them all for the sake of Nana.

None of them talked about Nana’s ails or treatments, and any time Severus tried to press the issue over the last few days, he’d been rebuffed or distracted. Nana was the same. Over the last few years, despite her age, she’d been robust and somewhat active. Seeing her pushed around in a wheelchair tore at his heart. He had nothing in common with the rest of the cousins. If there was no Nana, there’d be no reason for him to come here.

A part of Severus liked having somewhere to go for Christmas. It felt less lonely than being at the school. He knew the Malfoys would invite him, as they had done in the past, but despite being close friends, they weren’t family.

He can’t imagine his cousins tolerating him any more than they had to if it weren’t for Nana Bea.

Thankfully, they retire to bed soon after. Gloria insisted on wheeling Nana to her room and helping her settle in, even though Severus offered to do so.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Severus,” Gloria waved him off. “There’s a trick to help the invalid into their beds. We’ll be fine.”

Severus reluctantly headed off to the attic to get changed and into bed, drifting off worried about Nana and how to communicate to Potter that he needed to dial down his act and become his obnoxious self again instead of the solicitous, well-behaved child he had everyone fooled into believing.

ooOoo

Christmas Day

He drifted awake naturally, though it was still dark outside. Gentle snores reminded him he wasn’t alone. He hoped to get some more sleep, but a pressing need to use to loo made itself known. Harry managed to ignore it for maybe twenty minutes before deciding he really needed to go. Grudgingly, he dragged himself out of bed, padding barefoot to the bathroom he shared with Nana Bea. Only to bump into the person in question.

“Sorry, Nana,” he said automatically, reaching out to steady her.

He froze as he realised that she wasn’t using her wheelchair. Snape’s grandmother gave him a sheepish look, like a thief caught in the act.

“Oh, lad,” Nana sighed, seemingly deciding she wouldn’t pretend to be an invalid any longer. “Looks like we’re going to have a frank chat.”

Harry nodded dumbly.