Chapter Nine

Harry lay down on his bed, thinking of the events that afternoon. He felt thankful for the school closing down this year or he would never have gotten to know this other Snape. He still found it hard to believe that his professor had just asked to be his guardian. Not only that, but the man had called him Harry!

He replayed their conversation in his head, as though trying to convince himself that it was not a dream; it was still too good to be true. He had never imagined that anyone would ever want him, and he had learned to accept it at a young age. This new development had shaken his view of the world, of himself, and it felt good. For the first time, he felt hope blossoming in his chest. Maybe this was his chance to finally have a home, to have a family of his own.

He closed his eyes, feeling his consciousness slowly melt away. Seconds later, he fell asleep, and it was the most peaceful sleep he had had for as long as he could remember.

The morning of the 31st came, and the two wizards ate their breakfast silently. Harry felt the uneasiness consume him once again, and he didn't think he could eat.

"Harry, you have to eat more," said Snape as he eyed the boy's almost empty plate. The Gryffindor had only served himself a slice of toast, and about half of that was still on the plate.

"I'm not very hungry," said the teenager, feeling the butterflies in his stomach come to life. He nibbled on his toast, forcing himself to eat, if only slowly.

The man summoned a vial of red potion and handed it to the younger wizard. "Drink this; it's for your stomach."

The boy obeyed, his stomach immediately feeling better. He saw the professor put two more slices of toast and a few strips of bacon on his plate. Then, a glass of milk found its way to him.

"Finish that if you can," said Snape, looking at the malnourished boy in concern. He would have to make sure to get the teenager to eat healthier meals at more frequent intervals. Perhaps some vitamins would help build his appetite. He would also have to research on nutritive potions.

Harry slowly ate, trying to finish what the man had put on his plate. He appreciated the professor's concern, really, but he just couldn't stomach too much food, especially in the morning. After finishing everything on his plate, he felt immensely full.

"Drink your milk," said Snape, glad that the Gryffindor had finished his food. A part of him wanted to curse the boy's relatives, but he let those thoughts drift to the back of his mind. Anything related to those despicable people always ruined his mood, and he didn't want to accidentally snap at the teenager because of it.

Once they finished with breakfast, the two wizards proceeded to the living room. Harry saw his trunk and his owl cage right in front of the fireplace, and he sighed, plopping himself on the couch.

He noticed that Snape was once again in his usual teaching robes, and the man approached him, gesturing for him to stand up.

"Are you ready to leave?" asked the professor, fixing the boy's collar. He fussed over the younger wizard's clothes for a few more seconds before seeming satisfied.

Harry blushed, feeling slightly awkward. Mrs. Weasley was the only adult who ever fussed over his clothes, and having the Potions Master do it felt weird, though in a good way.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he said, his tone casual. He took a deep breath before turning to the Floo, but a hand on his shoulder made him turn back.

"Harry, I want you to have something before we go," said Snape, unshrinking a large, brown package he fished out of his pocket.

"What's this, Sir?" asked the Gryffindor, taking hold of the package.

"Some clothes I want you to have," said the man. The boy began shaking his head, but the older wizard gently held his chin. "It's my Christmas gift, Harry. I know you already have clothes, but a week's worth is hardly enough."

"But Sir, I... thank you," whispered the teenager, his eyes strangely wet. No one had ever shown concern for him like this before, and it felt nice, like he actually mattered to someone.

"You're welcome, child," said Snape, giving the younger wizard's shoulder a light squeeze.

"I guess this is it."

"Nothing will change; remember that. You will always have a place with me," said the man as he looked at the Gryffindor, who still seemed nervous. "This is your home now. Perhaps in the summer, we can do something about the decoration in your room."

"You wouldn't mind even if I painted the walls red and gold?" asked the boy cheekily, grinning when he saw a hint of annoyance on the older wizard's face.

"I wouldn't mind even if you painted everything violet and silver," returned Snape. "It's yours to ruin."

Harry smiled, his chest feeling a warmth he was quickly getting used to. It hadn't been a dream; he really had a home now.

"Thank you, Professor," said the younger wizard, suddenly engulfing the professor in a brief hug. He felt the man's arms wrapped around him stiffly, and he gave the older wizard a light squeeze before stepping back.

"Stop thanking me, Harry," said Snape, suddenly feeling emotional, though his face remained impassive. He shrunk the boy's things and pocketed them, then led him through the fireplace.

"Ready to return, Mr. Potter?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, Sir," said the Gryffindor, a bright grin on his face.

Together, they yelled, "Hogwarts!"

Bright green flames engulfed them. As the smoke cleared, the two wizards disappeared, leaving the house empty but for the memories of the one holiday that brought them the most unforeseen gift—each other.

-Fin-

A/N: That's it, folks! Thank you for taking the time to read this short story as well as for your wonderful reviews. There won't be a sequel; I have always meant for the story to end here. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed reading this. How about one last review from you guys? ;)