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Once upon a time, that's how fairy tales begin, but this is not a fairy tale, but it could become one, who knows?
Harry Potter was lonely. He would never have called himself that, even if he really was. He had learned from an early age to be grateful even for little things.
When he was one year old, Harry's parents died at the hands of a powerful dark wizard. From one moment to the next, the little boy was alone in this world. He still had an aunt and uncle, but they did not want him. When they found Harry on their doorstep on the morning of November first 1982, they took him to the nearest police station. The policemen didn't know what to do with the baby either and took him to an orphanage. Perhaps the little boy could even have been happy here, but things turned out differently. Severus Snape, a dark man with pale skin and piercing eyes, took him from the orphanage. Oh, he didn't do it willingly or out of kindness, no he did it because he owed someone a favour. He promised to raise the boy, the son of his arch-rival and of his childhood friend. The dark man was a teacher himself and knew how to handle children, but raising one meant much more. Six years would pass and Harry had learned his place. While he usually lived with the professor at the school where he taught, they returned to the man's house, in a small town near London, during the summer and at Christmas. Right here, two days before Christmas, our story begins.
***************
Seven-year-old Harry was sitting on the window sill in his room, as he often did, looking down at the street. It had snowed and everything was covered with a white layer. Down in the street, the neighbourhood children were playing and throwing snowballs. Harry smiled. He would have given a lot to be able to romp with them there too, but he knew he wasn't allowed. The professor thought playing and romping was a waste of time. Harry should learn and read and obey. Sighing, the boy got up and sat down at the desk again. The room was barren. There was no picture, no toy, nothing that reminded someone of a child's room, only the plush cat sitting on the bed testified to the fact that a child lived here. Aunt Minerva had given it to Harry and the professor had grudgingly accepted it. The cat, which Harry had named Mina, was his only company during the long days and nights here at Spinner's End. In the castle, there were the other students and even if Harry only had contact with them at mealtimes and occasionally on walks in the grounds, it was still better at Hogwarts than sitting here alone with the professor.
Harry reached for a pencil and began to write. Even though it was holiday time, Snape insisted that he practise every day. He was really good at it, certainly further along than most people his age. He could already read without mistakes and he could also do arithmetic easily.
"Potter!" the call came from downstairs. Quickly Harry jumped up and ran out of the room, knowing he had better not keep the man waiting. He descended the stairs and found the professor standing in the hallway.
"Get dressed, I have errands to run," he said coldly, holding out his coat to Harry.
"Yes, sir," he said and got dressed. They stepped outside the door. Harry glanced quickly at the boys still playing in the street, but before he could take another look, Snape had grabbed him hard by the shoulder and disappeared with him. Harry didn't like apparating, he always felt sick and couldn't manage to land on both feet, usually falling to his knees. Today he was lucky, the professor had let him go later than usual and so he remained standing. Gruffly, Snape now reached for the boy's hand. Only when they were here in Diagon Alley Snape holding Harry's hand. Not out of affection for the child, but so that he would not simply disappear. Harry was famous and Snape made sure that when they were in public, no one saw the scar on the boy's forehead. With the dark hair, glasses and lanky build, he looked like his father anyway. A fact that infuriated Snape. He dragged Harry on. Diagon Alley was busy that lunchtime. It was the holidays and many were doing last minute Christmas shopping. Harry had trouble keeping up with the professor. He kept stumbling and being jostled. He was glad when they finally stopped in front of the pharmacy.
"You wait here and don't move!" said Snape when they were inside the shop. Quickly Harry nodded and stood beside the door. A woman was apparently waiting as well and smiled at the boy. Harry smiled back sheepishly before staring back down at his toes. He knew Snape didn't want him talking to others when they were out. The professor had quickly finished his shopping at the pharmacy and reached for Harry's hand again, pulling him along with him. Harry hoped that perhaps they would go to Madame Malkins. His clothes still fit, as he hadn't really grown in the last year, but he would like something new. But Snape pulled him past the shop and towards Flourish & Blotts. Harry loved the bookshop, even if he wasn't allowed to touch anything, he liked the smell of old parchment and leather. Again Snape instructed him to wait at the entrance and put his hands in his pockets. Harry did as he was told and looked around. The shop was full, people were looking on shelves for gifts or taking advice from the proprietor. Harry had received a book from Snape every Christmas for as long as he could remember. It was always books about herbs, potions or wizardry, but never a story. How Harry would love to read a story sometime, but the professor thought that was a waste of time too. It wasn't long before he came back and pushed Harry out of the shop. By now Harry's stomach was rumbling, it was well past noon and he only had one piece of toast for breakfast. Snape didn't seem to care, he dragged Harry to three more shops and when they left the last one, Father Christmas was standing in the middle of the street. Of course Harry knew that he didn't really exist, Snape had already taught him that when he was three, but nevertheless a smile flitted across the boy's pale face when he saw the man. He was handing out candy canes to the cheering children around him. When he spotted Harry and Snape, he walked up to them and held out one of the sweets to the little boy.
"For you and Merry Christmas," he said, smiling mildly. Harry looked furtively at Snape and he pulled him away.
"Thanks, we don't need it," he says snidely.
"Oh, that wasn't for you, it was for your son," the man said, still smiling. Harry's heart missed a beat. He knew what was coming now.
"That's not my son," the professor growled and pulled Harry as fast as he could past the perplexed man and out of the Diagon Alley. No, he was not the professor's son. When he was younger, a dad or father had slipped out now and then. Then Snape had always snapped and yelled at him and called him names, so Harry had gotten out of the habit.
Without warning him, the professor had disappeared with him in front of the Leaky Cauldron. This time he let go of him earlier and Harry landed ungently on the hard pavement in front of their house. He pulled himself up and followed his guardian inside.
"I still have work to do. Do your chores and don't disturb me," he said coldly, raising his wand and causing a plate of soup to appear on the kitchen table. Harry nodded.
"Yes, sir," he said quietly and sat down at the table as soon as the professor had disappeared. He reached for the spoon and ate silently. The ticking of the old grandfather clock in the living room, was the only sound echoing in the old house. Yes, Harry Potter was a lonely child. He didn't know the term, he didn't know what it meant, but he knew full well that not every child grew up the way he did. Harry Potter didn't know what hate meant, but he knew that the man who was his guardian didn't like him. Why? He did not know. He did everything the professor asked, kept quiet, dressed by himself, took his things to the basement to be washed, did his chores and was polite, but never got affection or even a kind word. Every day the seven-year-old wondered what he was doing wrong and never found an answer. When he finished eating, he washed his plate and put it back in the cupboard. Quietly, he crept upstairs and into his room.
"Hello Mina, I'm back. It was really great at Diagon Alley. We went for hot chocolate and looked at the decorations in the shop windows and Santa gave me a candy cane. I ate it straight away and ...", Harry stopped, sat down on the bed and hugged the plush cat to him.
"... and it was actually like always," he added quietly. Harry was a child with a lot of imagination, he needed that imagination not to despair. Here in Spinner's End he made up stories and told them to Mina or himself. Just so he could hear his own voice now and then. He put the cat back on the bed and went to the bookshelf. There he had hidden a treasure. He reached behind all the books with his hand and pulled out a photo. On it was a young woman waving happily at the camera. He knew it was his mother, he had found it by chance in a drawer in the living room and just taken it. On the back was written in the professor's handwriting: "Lily - 1979".
"Hi Mum, we were in Diagon Alley today," Harry said softly, stroking the picture gently.
"That's nice," Harry turned and smiled. It was his most beautiful fantasy. The translucent figure of his mother sat on the bed and smiled at him. The boy sat down with her.
"What did you buy?" she wanted to know.
"Oh quite a lot and I think the professor was shopping for presents too, I wasn't allowed to look," Harry said excitedly.
"Oh yeah? Have you written your wish list to Santa yet?"
"No, not yet, but ...", Harry stopped.
"But what, darling?", Lily wanted to know gently.
"But he doesn’t exist," Harry said sadly.
"Who says something like that?" his mother wanted to know.
"The professor. He says I should grow up and not believe in such nonsense, and well, he's never brought me a present before."
"Honey, don't listen to him. If you believe in something very strongly, it can come true and that's how it is with Santa."
"Really?"
"Really!" said Lily, smiling. At that moment the door opened and Snape stood in the room. Harry flinched violently and slid the picture inconspicuously under his pillow. His mother had disappeared.
"Who are you talking to?" the man asked coldly.
"Just w-with Mina," Harry said anxiously, hugging the stuffed animal to his chest.
"Nonsens. Have you done your chores?" asked Snape, stepping up to the desk.
"Yes sir," Harry said quickly and the professor reached for the described sheets. He looked through them briefly and then threw them back on the table.
"I have to go out again. You stay in your room, don't open the door for anyone and go to bed at eight, understand?" he then said, piercing Harry with his gaze.
"Yes, sir," he said quietly. Snape nodded, raised his wand and made a plate with two sandwiches appear, then left without another word. Harry's heart was pounding; if the man had found the photograph, things would have ended badly for Harry. The boy quickly pulled it out and hid it behind the books again. Then he climbed onto the windowsill and looked out. It was already dark and the lanterns made the freshly fallen snow glisten magically. Down in the street he now saw Snape, who looked around briefly and then apparated. Sighing, Harry climbed back down from the windowsill and sat at his desk. He reached for his pencil and began to write:
"Dear Santa, I don't know whether you exist or not. The professor says you don't exist. But if you did, I would want something. I don't want a toy or anything. I just want someone who loves me. I know it's not that easy, but maybe you can do something. Best wishes, Yours, Harry," Harry folded up the paper. But where to put it now? He had no idea where Santa lived. Thoughtfully, he looked around the room until his gaze caught the window. Maybe someone was collecting the letters from the children. He opened the window and put the paper on the outside windowsill, then closed it again and lay down on the bed. Who knows, maybe Santa did exist and maybe he would help him. What Harry didn't see was that the wind was making the paper swirl through the air. The note with the longing wish of a little lonely boy flew a few loops and then landed, yes where? It landed in the garden of the house and got caught in a bare bush. But the boy would wake up the next day with the hope that his wish had reached Father Christmas.
***************
"Potter, get a move on!", Snape stood by the stairs, waiting impatiently. Harry came down the stairs and looked guiltily at the man.
"I can't manage this tie," he said quietly, holding the accessory helplessly in his hand. They were going to the Malfoys' today, as they did every 24th December. Harry was looking forward to it because Narcissa and Lucius were very nice and he could play with Draco. They got on well and the other boy had loads of toys, things Harry didn't know. But the best thing was that he always got something too. Mostly it was sweets or a book, the professor didn't allow more, but Harry was happy.
"I've shown you this a hundred times! How can anyone be so stupid?", Snape snatched the tie from Harry's hand and tied it roughly around him. He pulled it so tight that the boy's breath was taken away for a moment. He quickly loosened it again when the professor wasn't looking. Again they apparated, but this time Snape was careful that Harry didn't end up in the dirt with the good stuff. Malfoy Manor was the most impressive house Harry had ever seen. He always looked forward to when they were here. It was huge and yet somehow cosy. At Christmas, it shone brightly and there were decorated Christmas trees everywhere.
"Sev, Harry! I'm glad you're here," Narcissa Malfoy said and embraced them both. Harry, who was usually only hugged by Minerva, enjoyed the unusual closeness to someone.
"Uncle Sev, Harry!" Draco cried, coming running up with a grin. The professor leaned over to the little blond boy with a smile and hugged him. Harry stood next to him and wished nothing more than to be in his place.
"Can we go and play?" asked Draco then, looking to his mother.
"First we eat and then," the woman said, gently stroking her son's straw-blond hair.
Christmas dinner at the Malfoys' was always special. There was talking and laughter, almost like at meals at Hogwarts. Harry ate quietly and watched the others. Even the professor seemed to be a different person here. He smiled now and then, listened to Draco's stories and only rarely reprimanded Harry. After the bedside table, Draco jumped up.
"May we?" he asked again.
"Sure, go ahead!" said Lucius. Hesitantly, Harry stood up and looked at Snape.
"You come when I call," he said simply and the boy nodded before following Draco.
"Why are you so strict with him? He is such a good and polite child," Narcissa said when the children had disappeared from the room.
"Yes, he is, because I am strict," Snape said simply and took a sip of wine.
"He seems sad," Lucius said, looking at his best friend seriously.
"Yes, that's right. Why don't you come with him more often? Draco would be happy, at least during the holidays," Narcissa said.
"No, it is not to be coddled. As it is, it works. You know I didn't set out to raise him, but if I'm going to do it, I'm going to do it my way!"
Draco and Harry sat on the carpet in Draco's room and played with the boy's magic train as they often did when Harry was there. Draco always thought up great games and it was these moments when Harry Potter was a happy child.
"Hey, watch the barrier's closed," Draco called out with a laugh and Harry responded, pushing his figure off the tracks.
"Just in time," Draco said and Harry nodded with a smile.
"What do you think Santa will bring you tonight?", Draco now wanted to know. Harry swallowed hard. He told Draco, of course, that he had toys too and always got something too, even if it wasn't true. He didn't want the other to think badly of his godfather.
"I don't know," he said evasively.
"What did you wish for?", Harry thought of the missing wish list on the window sill.
"I don't really know any more. Some crayons and sweets," he lied.
"Mhm ... Is that all? All right, you must have a lot, like me. I wished for a broom. It would be great if we could both get one. Then we could practice and then we'll surely make the Quidditch team when we go to Hogwarts," Draco said and his eyes lit up.
"Mhm ... yes, that would be great," said Harry.
"HARRY!" the call came from below. The boy flinched, but stood up immediately.
"Do you really have to go already?" whined Draco and Harry shrugged.
"Uncle Sev, can't you stay a bit longer?" said Draco as he and Harry stood downstairs in the entrance hall.
"No Draco, it's late. Pot ... Harry has to go to bed," he said surprisingly mildly.
"All right, see you on New Year's Eve then," Draco said, smiling at Harry who was putting on his coat.
"See you then," he said and then looked at Narcissa and Lucius. The woman hugged him tightly and then gave him a package.
"But don't open it until tomorrow morning," she said with a wink.
"Th-thank you," stammered Harry, who was still surprised when he received something as a gift. When he stood outside with Snape in the Manor's snow-covered park and felt the man's firm grip on his shoulder, the warm feeling he had just had immediately disappeared.
"Give it to me," the professor said sternly as they stood in the hallway of the house in Spinner's End again. Harry handed him the parcel he had received from Narcissa.
"I'll put it in the living room, not that you'll be tempted to open it today," he said snidely.
"Yes, sir," Harry said, taking off his shoes.
"Go to bed, I don't want to hear any more," Snape said and hurried out of the hall. Harry put his shoes away neatly, hung up his coat and then climbed the stairs.
"Hi Mum," he said, smiling at the almost translucent woman sitting on the bed.
"Hello my dear, how was it at the Malfoys'?", Harry pulled his tie from his neck and sat down with his mother.
"It was nice. Draco wanted me to stay and Narcissa gave me a present," he said and for a moment the boy's sad emerald eyes lit up.
"Mum?"
"Yes my darling?"
"Will he love me eventually?" asked Harry, staring at the tips of his feet.
"He did," said his mother's velvety voice. Harry shook his head and tears swam in his eyes.
"No, he didn't," he said, sobbing.
"Don't cry, everything will be fine," Lily said, stroking his head. It felt like a warm breeze brushing against him.
"Will you stay until I fall asleep?" he asked. Lily nodded, smiling softly. Harry put on his pyjamas and slipped under the covers. It was not the first night he had cried himself to sleep.
***************
On Christmas morning, his mother had disappeared again. Of course, Harry knew he was imagining her, but there was something comforting about thinking that maybe she was somewhere, watching out for him. Harry got out of bed and dressed. From his desk drawer he retrieved the present for the professor. Every year he drew him a picture and every year he paid no further attention to it, but Harry still did it every year. This year he was hopeful that Snape might like his present. He had worked on it for days. He had made a calendar and each month he drew and wrote down the herbs and potion ingredients that grew during that time. Harry didn't have any wrapping paper, but he hoped it would do. He ran down to the kitchen, where Snape was already sitting at the table reading the paper.
"Good morning sir and Merry Christmas," Harry said and sat down in his seat.
"Mhm ..." was all that came from Snape. On Harry's seat, as every year, lay a book, it was not wrapped, but he knew it was his present. This year it was one about medicinal herbs in Scotland. Harry knew it well because he already owned it. He had already received it from his guardian two years ago.
"Th-thank you sir," he said sadly and put the book on the page.
"I have ... I have something for you too," he said and pushed the calendar he had made over to Snape. Snape sighed, put the newspaper aside and looked listlessly at the paper.
"You spelled balm wrong," he said coolly and then put the calendar on the kitchen cupboard before turning his attention back to his newspaper. Harry looked at the present and then at his book. Silently, he reached for a piece of toast. As always, it was quiet between the two of them. The silence was only interrupted by the rustling of the newspaper. Harry's gaze wandered to the living room. He could see his gift from Narcissa lying on the table.
"D-Do you mind if I open the other present," he asked shyly as he finished eating. Snape looked up.
"Whatever, but if there are sweets in it, you deliver them here. I'll keep them," he said.
"Yes, sir," Harry stood up, put his plate in the sink and walked into the living room. He took the gold-wrapped parcel and opened it gently. Inside was a book, not a textbook or nature guide it was a storybook. "The Tales of Beedle the Bard," it said in gold letters. Harry's heart leapt. He put the book on its side and pulled something else out of the packet. It was a small silver casket. Carefully Harry opened it and immediately a little song sounded. It was a sad melody and yet it was strangely comforting.
"What have you got there?", Harry flinched. The professor stood in front of him and looked at the child with angry glittering eyes. He took the music box from him and looked at it.
"I told Narcissa not to give you such nonsense. What is this?" he asked, throwing the box carelessly into the parcel.
"A-A book..."
"I can see that myself Potter," Snape scoffed and reached for the book.
"Fairy tale, such a ..." he said and threw it back at him.
"May I keep it," Harry asked, not daring to look at the man.
"It's a gift, so yes. But don't you dare play that awful tune in my presence and now go to your room, I have work to do," Harry quickly took the things and disappeared from the living room. He had fully expected Snape to take them away from him and was now glad that he got to keep everything. He placed the professor's book next to the identical copy from two years ago. He put the music box on the bedside table and the storybook on the desk and then sat down at the desk. He opened the book and began to read. There were beautiful, but sometimes also sad or exciting stories in it. Harry lost himself in the fairy tales and soon it was evening and he noticed how his stomach growled. He put the book down and ran to the kitchen.
"Potter, come here!" shouted Snape, and Harry could tell by his tone that he was angry. What had he done wrong? He thought, but couldn't think of anything. Quickly he went into the living room. Snape stood in front of the large bookshelf and looked at him angrily.
"Where is it?" he pressed out with difficulty. Harry didn't understand at first and looked at the man in complete irritation.
"WHERE IS THE PICTURE?" cried Snape, and now Harry knew what the latter meant.
"I-I ... I did ... I wanted," he stammered and panic spread through him.
"GET IT!" the man shouted again and Harry ran out of the room. Tears ran down his cheeks as he retrieved the beloved picture from its hiding place. He ran back down and held it out to the professor with trembling fingers.
"How dare you steal from me?" asked Snape dangerously quietly. Harry remained silent.
"SPEAK!"
"I wanted ... I wanted it, just borrowed it. I'm sorry Fa- .... Professor, sir," he immediately improved. The resounding slap caught Harry completely off guard. It was so violent that he collapsed onto the floor. Tears welled up in his eyes and his head throbbed.
"I AM NOT YOUR FATHER! GET OUT OF HERE, GO TO YOUR ROOM! I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU ANYMORE TODAY!" screamed Snape and as quickly as he could, Harry scrambled to his feet and ran out of the room. In his room, the seven-year-old threw himself on the bed and cried. Never had the professor hit him. A slap on the wrist when he was smaller, but never as hard as today. Harry's cheek burned like fire and the headache increased. His ears were ringing and the tears wouldn't stop running. It was his own fault, why had he taken the photo, why hadn't he just left it in its place? Why did he want to say father again? Why couldn't he just be dead like his parents? Santa hadn't received his wish list, that was certain now. He hadn't sent him anyone to love him, no one had come and no one would come. Harry sniffled and sat up.
"Mum?" he asked quietly.
"Mummy?" but she did not come. The room remained silent and dark. Harry wiped his eyes and put his cool hand on his injured cheek. He climbed onto the window sill, looked out into the moonlit night and made a decision. He could not stay here any longer. He was a burden for the professor and he didn't want him here anyway, so he might as well leave. He went to his wardrobe and grabbed two jumpers and a thin summer jacket, that would have to do. He stuffed Mina, the music box and the storybook into a backpack. Then he sat down at the desk and wrote a few lines before pulling on the jumpers and then slipping under the covers, dressed. He had to wait until Snape was in bed, otherwise the latter would surely catch him and then he might do more than just slap him. Harry kept himself awake by telling himself stories in his head. How he wished his mother were here, even if she was only an illusion. Around midnight, he heard the professor come out of the bathroom and go into his bedroom. Harry waited a good half hour more, then slipped out of bed, put on his jacket and slipped into his trainers. He couldn't reach his winter boots and so the summer shoes had to do it. He put his backpack on his back and opened the window as quietly as possible. Below it was a tree. Carefully, Harry climbed onto one of the thick branches and shimmied further up to the wall that bordered the property. Carefully he balanced on the smooth stones until he reached the end, looked at the house one last time, then jumped.
***************
Behind the house was a forest. Harry knew it, because every now and then he crossed it with the professor to go shopping in the next village. They could have apparated, but Snape liked to walk and found it beneficial when Harry did too. In the dark, the forest seemed quite different. The snow swallowed every sound, but at least the moon was shining and so Harry could at least see a little where he was going. But where was he going anyway? Where was he going to find someone who loved him? He thought of Draco, Narcissa and Lucius. Yes, maybe he could go to them. Harry already believed that they would like him. But he didn't know where they lived. He kept walking, but the hopelessness of his situation made his steps heavier. Should he turn back? But would he even find the way? He was shivering all over, his feet were lumps of ice and he could hardly feel his hands either. Harry needed a break. The little boy looked around, there was no snow under a large fir tree. The needles of the tree were so thick that a part underneath had remained dry. Harry sat down under the tree and tightened his knees. He took Mina out of his backpack and pressed his face into the soft fur of the soft toy. Then he took out the music box and opened the lid. The comforting melody caressed him. Harry lay down, tightened his legs and hoped that it would soon be morning.
Severus Snape had barely slept an hour before he was awake again. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes. He shouldn't have hit the boy. It had never happened to him before. He hadn't wanted to, but when the boy tried to say father again, he had lost it. The photo was just the last spark that was missing. In spite of everything, it had been a mistake. You didn't hit children, not even Potter. Should he apologise? No, that would only make him soft, but he could check on him again. It was the middle of the night, but following an inner urge, Snape got up and went to Harry's room. Quietly, he opened the door. In the pale light he immediately saw that the bed was deserted. Immediately he turned on the light. Where was the boy?
"Potter!" he called, but there was no reply. Snape's eyes fell on the desk, there was a note there and it was for him:
Dear Professor,
I'm sorry about the photo. I didn't mean to, really. I don't want to be a burden anymore and I'm leaving. I know you didn't want me and I'm sorry to be such a nuisance. I'll find a place to stay. Goodbye.
- Potter
Snape sank down on the bed and read the letter a second time. The writing was spidery, but the words very advanced for a seven-year-old. Yes, he didn't want the boy at first, did it for the love of Dumbledore and Lily, and he had resolved to bring him up with strictness so that he wouldn't become like his father. But now Snape was questioning everything, and not for the first time in the last six years. He opened the desk drawer and took out the sheets of paper that lay inside. There were countless pictures and they always showed the same image. A man with a child holding his hand in a variety of places. One clearly showed Hogwarts. Snape rubbed his eyes, what had he done? Only now did he notice that the window was slightly open. So Harry had climbed out of the window and then? Where could he have gone? He didn't know anyone here and it was far too far to Hogwarts, the boy knew that too. He had to find him. Snape jumped up and ran down the stairs, Harry's coat and winter boots still there. How could that be? Was he out there without anything. Snape shook his head, grabbed his coat and hurried outside. He ran around the house and into the garden, he was about to go through the doorway into the forest when his eyes caught something white hanging in a bush. He reached for it and unfolded the parchment.
"Dear Santa, ... someone who loves me ...", he read and swallowed hard. He stuffed the paper into his pocket and ran into the forest. With the glowing wand he tried to find tracks, but if they had been anywhere, the wind had blown them shut.
"HARRY!" he shouted, but all that came in reply was the call of owls.
"Where are you?" his heart beat more and more desperately in Severus' chest. He had done everything wrong, he had driven the boy out of the house and with him to certain death by frostbite.
"HARRY, WHERE ARE YOU?" he called out and listened. Nothing could be heard. Severus drew his wand and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!" briefly closing his eyes as the dazzling white animal appeared before him and for a moment he was speechless. There stood not the doe as usual, but an enormous stag. How could that be?
"The boy," he gasped, then thought back to why he had summoned the Patronus.
"Help me find him!" he said desperately. The animal obviously understood and ran ahead. Severus had trouble following and suddenly it had simply disappeared. He looked around but couldn't spot anything at first, but then he heard something. A melody that was strangely familiar to him. He followed the music and then he saw him. Harry was lying under a pine tree, curled up, with the music box beside him. Immediately Severus was with him. The little body was freezing, but the boy was breathing. The professor took off his cloak and wrapped the child in it. Then he pressed Harry against him and stroked his forehead gently. The child's cheek was swollen and slightly blue, immediately a feeling of deep guilt came over Severus.
"Harry, come open your eyes," he said in a brittle voice. It took a few moments, but then the seven-year-old blinked.
"Sir?" he asked sleepily.
"It's all right, I'm here," Snape said and immediately the boy had closed his eyes again. Severus took the child's things, then lifted him in his arms and disappareted.
Harry did not want to wake up. He had dreamt too well and did not want the dream to end. The professor had held him in his arms and comfort him. He didn't want this dream to end. He felt a cool hand on his forehead, someone stroking him, calling his name. Harry blinked and smelled herbs. That was how the professor smelled, but it couldn't be. His vision sharpened and he flinched. The man was sitting by his bed, looking at him anxiously. It couldn't possibly be, but he didn't seem to be asleep.
"How are you feeling?", Snape wanted to know and Harry just stared at him.
"Are you in pain?" absently Harry stroked his cheek, the pain gone.
"I cured that ... I meant other pains, actually. You have a fever, it's from the hours in the cold," Severus said so gently, as Harry had never experienced it before.
"I-I have ... I'm fine," lied the little boy.
"Whatever you say, but drink this. It lowers the fever," Severus said and handed Harry a potion. He drank it without hesitation. Snape stood up.
"Sleep, you'll feel better soon," he said and went to the door.
"Sir?", Snape turned back to the boy.
"Sleep, we'll talk later," he said and left the room. Harry let himself sink back into the pillows. Tears came to his eyes, now the man had been nice, but next time he came he would surely punish him. He hugged Mina, who was lying next to him, and was soon asleep.
When Harry woke up the next time, he felt better. The headache was gone and so was the shaking. He sat up. It was already dawn again and now he also felt hungry. He had last eaten something the morning of the previous day. Hesitantly, Harry got up and went quietly to the door. I wonder if Snape was very angry. But he had seemed so worried and hadn't he even called him by his first name? Cautiously, Harry crept downstairs and stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. Severus was sitting at the kitchen table, looking at him. There was no anger, no scorn in the man's gaze, only something like concern.
"Feeling better?" he asked, walking towards Harry, who automatically backed away a little and lowered his gaze.
"Yes, sir," he said quietly. Severus closed his eyes briefly, knowing that he alone was to blame for the child's behaviour.
"Come, sit down, you must eat something," he said and Harry obeyed, as he always did. Slowly and silently Harry ate the warm soup, not daring to look up. He felt Snape watching him and now he would rather the man just ignored him again, as usual.
"I-I'm sorry ..." Harry said eventually, pushing the empty plate away from him.
"What are you sorry for?", Snape wanted to know.
"That I caused you trouble ... and about the photo ...", Harry said barely audibly. Severus sighed, stood up and pulled his chair in front of Harry's.
"Look at me, please," he said gently. The seven-year-old curled up in the chair, but looked up.
"I don't know where to start, but please listen to me. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I hit you, I didn't mean to. I was angry and ... it shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry I was so hard on you, so cold and dismissive. I wanted to make you strong and... and I didn't want you to be like your father. I knew your parents, I knew your mother and I loved her, but she chose your father and in my anger, I hurt her very much. When she died, I blamed you... that was wrong. You're not to blame, you... you're just a child. The older you got, the more you resembled your father and yet my affection for you grew, but I thought it would make you weak, make you make the wrong choices, one day. So I avoided looking at you, talking to you or showing you anything like affection. It was all a mistake, I realised last night. When you were gone, I was never so scared in my whole life. When I found you, I thought you'd frozen to death and it was my fault. I know you don't understand yet and you may never be able to forgive me, but if you let me, we'll start all over again. I have hurt you very badly and I am terribly sorry for all of this, I know I can't make it up to you, but believe me when I tell you that I love you Harry! I love you like my own son and I did from day one," Harry had tears running down his cheeks again, it was true, he didn't understand everything the professor had said, but he understood that this one really loved him. The man in front of him, was no longer the cold and stern professor, he was completely different. His eyes were full of compassion and tears. Harry slid from his chair and stood up. Slowly he walked towards Severus, who also stood up and squatted in front of him.
"I'm incredibly sorry," he said in a brittle voice. Harry swallowed hard, moved even closer and then hesitantly put his arms around the man's neck. The man hugged the child and for the first time in all these years Harry felt loved. There was Santa Claus and he had granted his wish. He had sent him someone who loved him, even if that someone had been with him all his life.
***************
- 1 year later -
"Well, I don't know if I think that's so funny," Narcissa Malfoy stood in the Manor park with her cloak and scarf on, staring intently into the air. Lucius and Severus followed suit and grinned.
"Oh honey, let them, they're doing great and the brooms have a built-in fall protection spell," Lucius said, watching his son and Harry race on their new brooms.
"Yes Zissa, let them. They're having fun and that's what counts," Severus said with a smile. Yes, much had changed in the last year. Harry Potter was no longer a lonely child. He finally had the father he had always wanted. Severus was still strict, but by now he knew when it was appropriate and when it wasn't. He loved Harry and they had both started to get used to each other again. At last the now eight-year-old could be a real child and Severus let him. Meanwhile, Harry spent a lot of time at the Manor and with Draco. Narcissa and Lucius had helped Severus heal the child's soul again after giving the Potions Master the telling off of his life. But Severus put up with all that for his son's happiness.
"Dad! Look!" Harry now shouted and did a somersault on the broom directly above Severus' head, of course he lost his grip and fell, but the professor caught him safely.
"Sorry," he said meekly. Severus looked at him sternly, but then smiled.
"It's all right," he said, hugging the child to him.
Harry put his arms around his father's neck and looked up at the great terrace of the Manor. A glowing woman stood there beckoning him. Harry smiled at her and whispered, "Bye Mum..."