On the other side of the closed bedroom door, Severus held his breath, waiting the inevitable no.

He was surprised that he really wanted to stay. It was a sorry state of affairs when a bunch of kidnappers were kinder to him than his own family.

But he knew they weren't kidnappers. At least, he was ninety-nine percent certain they weren't. He recognized Hogwarts from pictures he'd seen. The castle outside the windows certainly looked like the school. There could be a glamour in effect, but, he'd gotten up several times last night to look and he'd checked the windows sporadically throughout the day. The exterior changed the way real places did. If it were a glamour, it was an elaborate one. Snape could conceive of no reason as to why these people (Hogwarts' staff?) would perpetrate such an outrageous farce upon a seven year old.

Which probably meant that they were telling the truth. He tried to get his mind around the concept. Presumably, he'd been an adult yesterday and had somehow been transformed into a boy again. What a horrible curse! He couldn't imagine hating someone enough to do something that cruel to them, only . . . it really hadn't been that bad so far.

The last day had been . . . unusual. Although he couldn't say that anyone really liked him or wanted him here, no one had been actively cruel to him. Even those two Gryffindor morons upstairs hadn't been unbearable. Snape knew from previous experience that, had he ignored the pair, their bating would have stopped. It was his own sarcasm that had acerbated the situation beyond repair. And now his fate was being left in the hands of another person to whom he'd mouthed off.

He knew Potter was sure to say no. Who in their right mind would say yes? If their positions were reversed, he certainly wouldn't.

He couldn't understand why the woman, Hermione, had suggested he stay here at all. His instincts told him that she was no fonder of him than her husband, and, yet, she was forcing the issue. It made no sense.

He knew what he was. His grandparents let him know a dozen times every single day what a burden it was to have been saddled with their only child's Mudblood progeny. He knew it would have been better off for all involved if he'd never been born, but he was here, and everyone had to make the best of it, for the sake of family honour.

Yesterday, he'd been very conscious of his family honour and conducted himself in a manner in which he felt his grandparents would approve, but today . . . .

He'd seen the date on the Daily Prophet that one of the Gryffindor morons had had upstairs. If this weren't some elaborate scam – and more and more, he was beginning to suspect that it was not – then his grandparents were probably long dead. He supposed he should feel some remorse at that thought, but his reaction was really closer to relief.

But relief or not, it left him stranded here among these strangers, who had even less reason to like him than his grandparents ever had. He wished . . . .

Well, his wishes were irrelevant, as they always had been. His fate was in the hands of that scrawny boy with the scar from a curse on his forehead. Severus was acquainted enough with the ways of the world to know that he was going to be sent packing just as soon as the nitwit found the gumption to state his druthers.

He supposed the infirmary wouldn't be a terrible place to spend however long he was to be trapped here.

"I don't want him to go to the infirmary," he heard Potter say quite clearly from the other side of the door.

"What!" the big redheaded man squawked. He sounded like a brainless twit when he used that tone.

"Are you certain, Harry?" Hermione checked. "It is a small room."

"It's bigger than my cupboard back home," the Potter boy said.

Again, with the cupboard! Severus had no idea what Potter was blithering on about, all he knew was that the other boy hadn't condemned him to the infirmary.

The strength seemed to go out of his legs all at once. Not knowing what was wrong, Severus stumbled to the bed and gingerly perched on its end, beside the abandoned Exploding Snap cards.

Had Potter been older or more like himself, Snape would have suspected ulterior motives for the decision. As it was, he was completely befuddled. His presence only stood to inconvenience Potter. What possible reason could the other boy have had for allowing him to remain?

It wasn't as if Potter and he were friends or as if their being so were even a remote possibility. His peers never liked him. He spoke too much like an adult for children his own age to understand him. Normally, he couldn't last for more than ten minutes with his own age group before he became an object of ridicule. And then his wand would come out, and there would be hell to pay, one way or another, with his grandparents, if not his teachers.

Nobody inflicted his company upon themselves if they could possibly avoid it. The fact that Potter had voluntarily agreed to spend time with him rocked the very foundation of Severus' universe.

The door opened, and he quickly got hold of himself, schooling his features into their usual impassivity.

Hermione and Harry entered the room, with the confused looking redhead trailing in their wake. Severus could sympathize with the man.

Almost afraid, Snape looked up at the woman. She wasn't really what anyone would call beautiful, what with her bushy hair and sensible grey robes, but there was nevertheless a kindness about her face and eyes that made her seem even more lovely than his second cousin, Lydia Malfoy, and there wasn't a pureblood wizard who wasn't dying to pay court to Lydia.

Hermione smiled down at him with what appeared to be genuine good will. "Severus, if it's all right with you, Ron and I are going to move your bed down here. You'll share the guestroom with Harry. All right?"

Briefly, he considered saying no, just to see what their reaction would be, but he wasn't going to make light of the situation. There hadn't been a single instance in his life when he was down and someone had the opportunity to further disgrace him that they hadn't taken it. He was going to enjoy this while it lasted. So he gave a hesitant nod, and watched her smile grow broader.

"Very well, then. We'll leave you two alone here for a few moments while we get the bed," Hermione said.

Ron turned back at the door and pinned him with a sharp look. "Harry doesn't know any magic. If you hurt him, you'll answer to me. Understood?"

Severus read the threat quite clearly and gave another nod. Honest hatred he could understand. This other stuff made him nervous.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted. "Don't frighten him."

"You must be joking! Look at him! Nothing frightens the likes of him!" Ron gave a disgusted shake of his head and stalked out.

Hermione looked as though she wanted to say something, but then followed after her husband.

Snape glanced from the open door to Harry, who was standing just inside the room, looking like he didn't know what to say.

"Why did you let me stay?" Severus demanded as soon as they were alone together.

Potter came over to collect his Exploding Snap cards from where he'd left them at the foot of the bed. He seemed as uncomfortable as Snape felt.

"I wouldn't want to stay in the infirmary." Potter shrugged.

"But why should you care what happens to me?"

Potter gave another hapless shrug, looking like he really didn't know.

Snape searched those porcelain white features, scouring for some hint of subterfuge. Potter didn't look bright enough to be hiding anything. All Snape could find in the smaller boy's face was wariness.

Of him, of his tongue, he realized. Normally, Severus would have pursued his inquiry until his opponent was a simpering wreck, but Potter had proven that he wasn't his opponent. Severus uncomfortably noted that this was the first instance that he had spent this much time in another boy's company without being insulted or taunted. He knew how to deal with those adversarial situations, but he didn't know what to make of Potter. So, he let the matter drop and watched as Potter shuffled his cards.

"Potter?"

That got the other boy's attention fast. "Call me Harry. People only call me 'Potter' when they're mad at me."

"Harry, then."

"Yes?"

"When you were talking to the Weasleys before, what was all that stuff about a cupboard?"

"My aunt and uncle didn't really want me to live with them after my parents died in the car crash, so they . . . they make me . . . they lock me in a cupboard at night." Potter looked quickly down at his cards.

Something in Severus seemed to freeze up. For as long as he could remember, his grandparents had hated him, but even they hadn't made him sleep in a closet. That was . . . incomprehensible. What he couldn't understand was how Potter could be so nice to everyone.

He watched Potter sit down on the floor and amuse himself with the Exploding Snap deck, seeming to tune Severus completely out.

A few minutes later, the Weasleys returned, levitating the bed in front of them.

Potter jumped to his feet, his cards falling all over as he ogled the floating bed. "Wow! That's amazing!"

The Weasleys both rewarded Potter's insipidness with a smile.

Hermione levitated the room's existing furniture to make room for the newcomer while Ron manoeuvred the bed into place.

Normally, Severus would have let them just struggle away with it on their own, but since this was being done in his behalf and he didn't want to be deemed as useless as the near-Muggle Potter, Severus asked, "Can I help?"

Ron stared at him as though he suspected him of plotting his demise, but Hermione gave him an evaluating glance and asked, "Can you levitate the nightstand and move it between the beds?"

"Hermy, seven year olds aren't supposed – " Ron's words died as Severus withdrew his wand and smoothly manoeuvred the small table where requested.

"Thank you, Severus," Hermione said, the tip of her wand guiding the other bed against the far wall.

Snape cast a triumphant glance Potter's way, wanting to show off. But the other boy wasn't looking envious of his skills. To the contrary, Potter seemed just as impressed by Snape's show of expertise as by the Weasleys'.

"Wonderful!" Harry exclaimed. "Will I be able to do that some day?"

"Yes," Ron answered, as he finished positioning the extra bed. "You ready for that game now?"

"You bet!" Harry gave an excited shout and raced after Ron out of the room.

Hermione adjusted the duvet on Snape's recently installed bed. He noted that she'd brought the books Professor McGonagall had given him to read. They were floating midair near the door. He watched her levitate them onto the nightstand. When she straightened up from fixing the sheets, she said, "I've got some Muggle books I think you might find interesting, Severus, if you'd like to give them a look?"

"Muggle books?" He'd never even seen one. In fact, from what his grandparents had said about Muggles, he hadn't been certain they were sentient enough to read.

"Yes. I've got quite an extensive collection."

"Er . . . Professor Weasley?" he felt awkward calling her that. Harry called her Hermione, but the adult Harry was her friend. Her husband's attitude towards him had shown him that whatever Snape was to them, it wasn't a friend.

"I'm not really your teacher, Severus. Wouldn't you prefer to call me Hermione like Harry does?" she seemed almost eager.

"All right," he agreed, swallowing hard. He was frightened, and he didn't know why. Something in her eyes made him feel very vulnerable when she looked at him. He wondered if she were practicing some kind of spell on him. But there wasn't anything calculating or mean in her brown eyes. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Did you want to ask me a question?" she reminded.

"Yes. Was Potter raised by Muggles?"

"Yes, he was. Both his parents were wizards, but when they died, he went to live with his mother's Muggle relatives." Some of the softness left her eyes. "Is that going to be a problem for you?"

"What?"

"I know some of the older Wizarding families frown upon association with wizards who aren't what they call 'pure blood'," she said.

Severus felt his cheeks flush with shame as he heard those most hated of words come out of her mouth. His stomach lurched with panic at the thought that she knew about him, but then he realized that they were talking about Potter, not him. She was just concerned about Harry's well being.

He tried to swallow with a dry mouth and said, "It doesn't matter to me if he's Muggle-born. I won't . . . it won't be a problem."

To his bewilderment, Hermione appeared upset by his answer. Her subsequent words shocked him nearly as much as Potter's decision to allow him to stay.

"I'm sorry, Severus. It was wrong of me to make that kind of assumption about you," Hermione softly said.

"Your assumption wasn't wrong. I'm just not very good at being a pureblood."

"What do you . . . ?"

He didn't want to talk about this anymore. "If it's all right with you, would you mind showing me those Muggle books now?"

"All right," Hermione said, not pursuing the subject, for all that he could see her curiosity burning in her eyes.

Startled that she hadn't hounded him for the truth, he followed her into the sitting room.

***********

"Mmmmm, is it morning all ready?" Hermione muttered. Squeezing her eyes shut against the intruding light, she buried her nose in Ron's armpit. She shivered as his fingers stroked down her spine.

"Wish we could sleep in," Ron said, sounding way too awake, "but I heard footsteps in the sitting room. I think Harry'd be all right on his own, but Merlin knows what Snape will get up to."

"Oh, yes, right." She'd forgotten. Harry and Snape.

She dragged herself into a sitting position. Once her eyes had adjusted to the assault of greyish daylight seeping in through the windows, she looked down at the sensual sprawl that was her husband. His long limbs looked so powerful, even in repose like this. His sleep-tousled hair was nearly as askew as Harry's.

Recalling the discord between them last night, Hermione reached out to brush his sleep-flushed cheek. "Thank you for letting Severus stay, Ron."

He shrugged in that no-big-deal way he had and reminded, "You already thanked me last night, remember? Quite thoroughly, if I do say so."

Stars, how she loved him. "Yes, well, it means a lot to me that Severus stay with us."

"I know. I don't understand it, but I get that much."

A crash of shattering glass sounded from the sitting room. They stared at each other in dismay, and then laughter bubbled over them.

"Kids," Ron said, shaking his shaggy head. "You want to deal with the two in the sitting room while I go see what the monsters in the dorm have gotten up to?"

"Okay." Grabbing her wand from the nightstand, she performed a quick cleaning spell on herself, grabbed her house robe and hurried out the bedroom door.

She looked around the sitting room for the source of the crash, but nothing appeared broken. A very guilty-appearing Harry was sitting on the rug in front of the fire with his Exploding Snap cards spread out in front of him. He was staring up at her out of anxious green eyes, looking as though he expected to be flayed alive. A way-too-innocent Severus was sprawled in Ron's favourite armchair, nose in a Dickens book, legs over the chair arm.

"Good morning, boys," she greeted.

"Good morning, Hermione," Harry swiftly replied, Severus' mumbled "'morning," sounding like he was forcing himself to be civil.

"Did I hear something break?" she asked, doing her best to hide her smile as Harry all but melted into the carpet. Severus said nothing, continuing to stare at his book.

She waited. She could see Harry struggling to not answer.

Finally, he broke down and admitted. "I . . . er . . . broke the vase on the mantle. I was trying to get down one of the moving photos and I couldn't reach. I-I'm sorry," he stammered. He looked as though he were braced for vivisection.

She glanced in Severus' direction. Typical Slytherin. He was watching the scene out of the corner of his eye. It was all she could do to keep from giggling at his disgusted expression. It was clear he thought Harry a fool for admitting what he'd done.

She looked at the vase, which was intact on the mantel, exactly where it had sat since Molly gave it to them last Christmas. "I see that it's somehow repaired itself."

Now Harry appeared totally flummoxed. His gaze shot to Severus, but he said nothing to incriminate the other boy. Even at seven, he was a total Gryffindor.

"Thank you, Severus," she said.

As he met her eyes and gave a nod, she could see that he was just as anxious as Harry. But Severus had helped Harry. The arrogant boy she'd met two days ago wouldn't have concerned himself in Harry's problem.

Feeling very proud of them both, she smiled down at them. "Let's have breakfast, shall we?"

Once the house elves had delivered their meal and they were all seated around the table finishing off the sumptuous repast of bangers and eggs, Hermione said, "I think that we need to deal with your clothing problem today, before I end up shrinking everything in your adult wardrobe. Baths are the first task of the day, though. Who wants to go first?"

As expected with boys their age, there was no concentrated rush for the bathroom, but after a minute, Harry volunteered, "I will."

"Very good. While you're in there, I'll do a cleaning spell on what you wore yesterday."

A half hour later, both boys were clean and dressed.

Hermione eyed them both. Harry's hair was its typical tumbleweed. Hermione took a brush to it. Just like the other day, Harry was tense at first, but relaxed after a few minutes. Hermione kept at it for nearly ten minutes, with no appreciable results. But she smiled into his nervous eyes and said, "There. That looks much better."

Her gaze fell on Severus. His hair was somewhat longer than the professor normally kept it. The wet ends fell past his slender shoulders now. It was starting to frizz as it dried and hung in unattractive strings around his face.

"Severus, we're going to have to do something with your hair," Hermione said. It was one thing for Snape to walk around looking like he never paid any attention to his hair beyond the cursory daily washing, but while the boy was under her care, she was determined to at least attempt to pay some attention to his grooming.

He froze in his chair, fully as terrified as she'd ever seen him.

"I don't want it blond and short," he said, a cornered look in his eyes.

"What?" Blonde?

"Grandmother always transfigures it blond and short before she sends me off to school," he said. "I turn it back once I get outside. I won't wear it that way!"

Hermione was confused. "Why did she want your hair to be blond?"

She could almost understand the wanting it short part, for it really was an eyesore most days.

Severus looked down at the rug. "She and grandfather are both blond with blue eyes, as was my mother. I – I've got my father's mud – mud coloured eyes and hair. She doesn't like that I look like him."

His downcast expression made Hermione furious with the person who'd hurt him this way.

"Severus, I don't want to change your hair colour or its length. I like it that the way it is. I just want to brush it so that it looks neat. Will you let me do that?"

Hermione could see how difficult it was for him to trust her. He was searching her face as though he suspected a plot of some kind.

After an extremely long, tense silence, Severus nodded and came to stand in front of where she sat on the couch. He was much taller than Harry and she had to stand to reach his hair.

At first, he was stiff as a statue, seeming to anticipate pain or deception, but when all she did was run the brush through his drying hair, he slowly relaxed.

His hair was soft as silk, but of an awkward length. No sooner would she get it neatly brushed back from his face, then he would move and it would come spilling forward to hang in his eyes.

"Severus? Do you think we could tie your hair back so that it isn't hiding your handsome face?" Hermione asked, wary of upsetting him by suggesting changes, but at the same time determined to get that hair out of his eyes.

He pulled back from her and glared up at her, fury darkening his features. "There's no need for mockery."

"What?" she gawked, having no idea what she'd said wrong.

"You were teasing me," he accused, his eyes bright with betrayal.

"Teasing you? How?" She was totally lost.

"I know that I'm ugly. There is no need to belabour the obvious." At that moment, he was truly the Severus Snape that she knew, short-tempered, his sarcasm sharp as a knife.

But what he was saying in that familiar scathing tone broke her heart.

"Severus, you are not ugly," Hermione insisted in the strongest voice she could manage. All she wanted to do was cry. She didn't know which of these poor little boys made her feel worse – Harry, who was so terribly, openly starved for affection, or Severus, who was equally deprived, but denying it with all his might.

"I know what I am. You don't need to lie to me," he snarled. "I've got my father's hair and eyes, and my nose is monstrous."

"There's nothing wrong with having your father's hair and eyes. And your nose is not monstrous. Yes, it's large," Hermione continued before he could spew the venom brewing in his angry eyes, "but it's not unattractive. You have strong features, Severus. There's nothing wrong with them. I've always thought you rather dashing."

He was regarding her the way a jury observes an accused man, searching her features for truth. Finally, he asked in a vulnerable voice, "Dashing?"

"It means handsome in a manly way. Not pretty, but strong and impressive," she explained. "Severus, it was very wrong of your grandmother to say those things to you, especially since they were not true."

He hung his head, his cheeks flushing in visible embarrassment.

"It wasn't just grandmother. The children at school . . . ." he broke off.

"Children can be very cruel. Usually, they just say things until they find the insult that gets a response. Just because their words hurt you, doesn't make what they said true."

"So you're saying that I showed a weakness and they attacked it?" He seemed resolved to take blame for it.

"Sensitivity isn't the same as weakness. We are all human and can be hurt. No one likes to be signalled out and ostracized from a group. Your classmates were probably just looking for a way to make you feel bad." Hermione reached out to stroke his cheek, trying not to notice how he flinched at her gesture. Merlin's beard, had those monsters physically abused him as well as emotionally bullied him? "What they did was wrong. You are not ugly. I don't care what your grandmother or your classmates said."

Harry, who was sitting on the floor to their left attempting to build a house of cards with his Exploding Snap deck, looked up at them and said, "I don't think you're ugly, either. You just look mean 'cause you never smile."

"I'm not a simpering cretin who goes around spewing optimistic lies," Severus snapped at him.

Hermione hid her smile. That wasn't a mistake anyone was likely to make with Severus Snape. Beyond that, it was obvious that Harry had no idea what Severus' words meant.

"Severus, that wasn't very kind. Harry was trying to make you feel better," Hermione reprimanded.

"What's a simpering cretin?" Harry asked.

Seeing the nasty spark rise in Severus' eyes, she admonished, "Don't." Then turning to meet Harry's gaze, she explained, "It's someone who isn't very bright."

"Oh." Harry went back to adding cards to his construction. It was really rather impressive. The structure was four levels high. He was just adding the supporting card for the fifth level when the card exploded and knocked the structure down.

"So, will you let me try to tie your hair back?" she asked Severus. "If you don't like it, we can take it right out."

He gave a grudging nod and moved closer to her again.

As she brushed his hair back from his face, Severus peered up at her from beneath his thick lashes. "Do you really think that I'm not ugly?"

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she nodded and said, "Really."

And because he still seemed to have trouble believing her, she bent down and brushed a quick kiss on his brow. "Really. Quite dashing."

His eyes bugged out to twice their normal size. The fingers of his right hand rose to touch his forehead where she'd kissed it. His expression was somewhere between bewilderment and hesitant pleasure.

Only as she took in his reaction did it occur to her that that might have been the first time anyone had kissed Severus. Now that she thought about it, Harry had acted the same way when she'd done it to him that first day when she'd been comforting him in his room. She wasn't normally a violent person, but what she wanted to do to the fiends who had mistreated these two innocent boys was unspeakable.

Instead, she pretended nothing was amiss. Reaching out, she called, "Accio clip," to summon a black leather and silver hair clasp from her dresser. A moment's more work and she was finished.

"There, all done," Hermione announced. "Do you want to go look at yourself?"

She gestured toward the mirror on the wall beside the Christmas tree. Severus was tall enough to see himself in it. Harry would have required a chair.

She watched him cross the room with slow deliberation to study his reflection in the mirror.

"What do you think?" she questioned. "Do you like it?"

"I don't know. It looks very different," Severus said.

She refrained from stating the obvious, that his face was fully visible for the first time in memory. The ponytail was actually very attractive on him. Severus' glossy long hair was still showcased, but it didn't veil his face. The strength of his bone structure was accentuated, but the fall of the dark hair around his temples softened his features.

"I like it," Harry called up from the floor.

Hermione held her breath. Severus' vocabulary and behaviour were closer to that of a teenager than a seven year old. Perhaps understandably, Snape hadn't seemed highly impressed with Harry's abilities so far. She'd been around the Weasley household long enough to know how a younger brother's approval could often be the death knell to any alteration.

But Severus just stared at himself a little longer and then nodded. "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm to try it."

It was so strange to hear a child his size speaking with such a mature syntax. If it weren't for Severus' high pitched, seven year old's voice, he could very well have been the sarcastic Potions Master to whom she was accustomed.

"Good. Let's go, then," Hermione said.

Ron had fetched both Harry and Snape's winter cloaks, scarves, and gloves earlier and shrunk them down to size. Now, Hermione bundled the boys into their winter wear.

Harry took her hand as soon as they left their quarters. He was still staring goggle eyed at everything in Hogwarts. Severus walked calmly at her side, no longer seeming disturbed by their company.

They stepped out of the school into a cold, snowy day. The flakes were still drifting lazily down from the sky. The ground was blanketed with a fresh white carpet and the Forbidden Forest looked like a Christmas card. A path had been magically cleared from the school's main entrance to the road to Hogsmeade.

Harry immediately became excited. "Look at all that snow! I've never seen so much! Can I play in it, Hermione? Please?"

Unable to refuse him anything when he looked so happy, Hermione nodded. "All right. Just don't get too soaked."

"Thanks, Hermione!" Harry released her hand and immediately shot off to throw himself into the nearest pile of snow. He was laughing and howling like a maniac as he rolled around in it.

Hermione looked at the sombre boy at her side. Snape the teacher would have been glaring at Harry and making snarky comments about the foolish waste of time and energy. But this Severus wasn't old enough yet to be that bitter about other people's joys. He simply watched Harry playing as though it were an activity not applicable to himself. He was always the outsider, she realized, far much more so than Harry, who, while he'd had a most difficult childhood, was always eager to accept happiness when it came his way. Severus was so serous all the time that it hurt her to see him like this, so close to joy, but not touching it.

"Severus, wouldn't you like to play in the snow with Harry?" she asked in a puff of steamy breath.

He looked up at her out of dark, sad eyes. "I'm not permitted to play in the snow. It's not dignified."

"You don't have to be dignified all the time," she said softly, hating his grandparents. It was no wonder the other children had taunted him. The poor boy didn't even know how to have fun. "You are allowed to have some fun. Wouldn't you like to try?"

He bit his lower lip. "I don't know how. I've never done it before."

"Neither has Harry," she pointed out, gesturing to where Harry was making snowballs. "Go on. Go over there with him and give it a try."

Severus stepped uncertainly onto the nearest mound of snow, giving a startled yelp when he fell through it up to his knees. He had a look on his face like he was going to panic, but then Harry came slip sliding over to him.

"It's great, isn't it?" Harry laughed. "You want to make a fort?"

"A fort?" Severus repeated, staring from Harry to the unbroken line of snow that surrounded them.

"My cousin Dudley and his friends made them all the time," Harry said. "They were so cool."

"Of course they were cool. They were composed of snow," Severus snapped.

"Not that kind of cool," Harry objected. "Come on. Help me push some snow over this way and you'll see for yourself."

Hermione felt sorry for him as Severus tentatively lifted an armful of snow and it fell immediately to the ground.

But Harry was a patient teacher. "You've got to pack it together first so it doesn't get away from you. See? Like this. Yeah, that's better."

Together they packed the snow into blocks and built a wall with it.

Hermione watched the two boys working side by side. Both of their black cloaks were spotted with snow and Severus' lashes were flecked with it, but they looked like they were having the time of their lives.

"No," Severus said about ten minutes later as Harry hauled another pile of snow up over his head. "Don't put that up there. It's too tall. The wall will . . . ."

Their fort crumbled in on top of them before Severus had finished his warning. Piles of snow tumbled down on top of the kneeling children, temporarily burying them. After a moment of stunned silence, both boys flailed their way free of the fluffy white avalanche.

Severus was up to his neck in snow and Harry was still on his hands and knees trying to get his upper torso free. When Harry raised his head, he met Severus' gaze.

Hermione held her breath, waiting for the scathing condemnation. She knew how Snape responded to bungling. Poor Neville still couldn't sit on the same side of the table as his former teacher.

But the silence stretched. After a moment, Harry started to giggle, and then . . . to her utter shock and delight, Severus laughed, too. Shaking the snow off like puppies, they crawled out of their devastated domicile, helping each other as they slid on the unstable piles. They were both still howling as they stumbled to her side on the path.

Severus immediately stopped giggling and smoothed his features into their characteristic impassivity when he noticed her observation, but he'd laughed, and that was more than she'd ever thought him capable of.

"That looked like fun. Did you have a good time?" Hermione asked, flicking her wand at them and muttering a drying spell.

"Yes," Harry exclaimed as his cloak and clothes steamed dry on him. "Can we do it again later?"

"If we get back early enough. If not, we'll make sure to come out tomorrow," she promised. Taking Harry's hand, they started up the path to Hogsmeade.

Their first stop was the clothes store. Fancy Frocks was very much like a Muggle store in that the wares were offered on racks. There were row upon rows of selections of every type of wizarding garment imaginable.

Harry's excitement at buying clothes that fit him was infectious. While Harry played peek a boo with himself beneath the clothes racks and Severus stood a bored, gloomy presence at her side, Hermione found the boys a week's worth of underclothes and socks.

But it was when they got to choosing their robes from the racks of rainbow assortments that Harry had the most fun.

"Can I get the blue one and the green one, Hermione?" Harry asked with hopeful eyes as green as his intended selection, as he pawed through the offerings on the rack.

"Yes. I'm going to get you some black school robes, too, in case we don't get you sorted out before the term starts. Minerva spoke to the Hogsmeade school's headmaster to let him know that you both might be coming for a few weeks."

"I get to go to Wizarding school?" Even that seemed to over joy Harry.

"Yes, Harry. You do." Hermione turned to Severus. "What about you, Severus? What colour robes do you want?"

Severus seemed startled. After a pause, he reluctantly said, "I'm only allowed to wear black. The other colours are . . . ."

"Undignified, I know." Hermione completed, not wanting to consider what it had taken to beat the spirit out of this intelligent boy to the point where he parroted these restrictions when the people who'd made them were not even present. "Severus, I know that your grandparents were very strict with you, but you're not with them now. If you'd like to choose some other colour besides black, go ahead. You have plenty of dignity; you don't have to rely on your clothes for that." She moved them a few yards down the aisle. "Here, these are your size. Go through them and see which you like."

Temptation flickered through his face. After the briefest of hesitations, he started moving hangers along the rack. Finally, he asked, "May I have the green one?"

"Of course. You'll need more than one. Pick another and we'll get you a black one for school as well."

His brow puckered in concentration, he slowly shifted through the robes. He paused over one and looked up at Hermione, "I suppose this one wouldn't be acceptable?"

Hermione pursed her lips. The robe he was holding out was lilac, almost pink. It certainly wasn't a colour she would ever encourage him to choose, but he'd chosen it on own and she'd told him he could have whatever colour he wanted. Not about to go back on her word, she gave an uncertain, "I wouldn't say unacceptable." Seeing his barely masked enthusiasm, she smiled. "Well, why not? You've certainly got the height to pull it off."

Although the smile didn't touch his lips, the surprised light in his eyes made her very happy.

"Are we going back home now?" Harry asked as they stepped out of the clothes store a while later.

Hermione safely stowed their shrunken purchases in her pocket and gave them a smile. "Not yet. We've got a couple of more stops to make."

"More clothing?" Severus asked.

"No." She grinned at their curious faces. "I was thinking a stop at Zonko's Joke Shop and Honeydukes sweet shop were in order."

Loving their surprise, she towed them after her.

Harry was easily amused, she found. Denied so much with the Dursleys, he was delighted with anything she did for him. He seemed as touched by the fact that she thought enough of him to do for him as for the act itself.

Severus was a bit harder. Although she got the feeling that Snape hadn't been any more spoiled in his home life than Harry, his tastes were far more mature. The toys and gags that enthralled Harry in Zonko's Joke Shop left Severus with a slightly bored look. She was able to persuade Severus to select something in Honeydukes, but even there, she felt that he was doing it more to indulge her than out of any genuine interest. And his choice left her a little teary-eyed. Out of the dozens of exotic offerings the Wizarding Sweet Shop carried, Severus chose a small bag of Muggle lemon drops.

It was only when they stopped at the bookstore to pick up Hermione's own order that Severus showed anything like excitement. He'd avidly browsed the bookshelves, but it was an item on the store's novelty table that he kept returning to.

When she saw Severus pick up the hand held telescope for the third time, she came up beside him and softly asked, "Would you like that, Severus?"

Although he tried to mask his surprise, she read it quite clearly.

"I don't have any money with me," he said softly.

"Neither does Harry, but he picked some things at Zonko's," she reminded.

"Yes, but . . . ." his words trailed away as he lowered his gaze.

"But what?" she encouraged.

"You . . . care about Potter," he reluctantly said.

Even at seven, Severus Snape was a master of inference. Hermione clearly read the end of that sentence, the 'not about me' that his pride doubtless wouldn't allow him to voice.

Hermione leaned down until she was on his level and quietly said to him, "Severus, I've known you for fifteen years. I care about you, too."

She saw his Adam's apple bob, heard him gulp. Then he asked in a near whisper, "You do?"

"Yes, I do. I promise." Seeing how overwhelmed he was by her admission, Hermione quickly changed the subject, "Now, do you want that telescope for your treat? You didn't pick anything out at the joke shop."

A shy nod and a "yes, please," and they were on their way to the clerk to pay for their purchases.

It was growing dark by the time they were done with their adventuring. Both boys seemed worn out by the time they were leaving the Three Broomsticks after their hot chocolate and scones break. They seemed quiet, but happy as they stepped out of the pub.

Hermione automatically took Harry's hand and began walking up Hogsmeade's main street with its bright Christmas decorations. Severus was close on her other side. As they walked and commented on the ornate seasonal displays, her empty, hanging left hand kept bumping Severus' arm. They were stopped before Zoe's Brooms and Flumes shop, watching the antics of the charmed manikins. Hermione was saying, "And if you look very close at Santa's workshop in this window, you can see a real elf making toys," when she felt Severus' gloved hand slip into her empty left hand.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was standing stiffly beside her, his face visibly braced for rejection. She wanted to hug him tight and promise him that it was all right, but she understood that he'd hate that kind of fuss. So, she gave his hand an encouraging squeeze and kept talking, as if nothing monumental had occurred. But deep down, her heart was trilling with triumph.

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