𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹 || 𝗦𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗦𝗻𝗮𝗽𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗕𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟗.

"How did it go?" Dumbledore asked, walking up to Snape in the corridor. He was just getting back and Harry was still asleep, his cheek resting on Snape's left shoulder.

"It went well," Snape answered. He bore good news, fantastic really, but he was just too tired and too out of sorts to have a long conversation about it now.

Despite his quirks, Dumbledore was something of a brilliant wizard and a very perceptive old man, and he understood instantly that Snape was in a different sort of mood right now. He needed to be left in peace. "Wonderful," Dumbledore said. "We can discuss it tomorrow afternoon, perhaps. For now, you look tired. I'll let you be,"

"Thank you, headmaster," Snape said, appreciatively. He then made his way down to the dungeons, and into his rooms. Harry was laid down in the crib. He whimpered for a moment, but Snape knew he'd be fine. He walked to the kitchen and got himself a drink. He sat at the table, sipping and breathing slowly, trying to clear his mind. When his drink was gone he stood slowly, his chair screeching against the dark hard wood flooring as it was pushed back. He massaged his temples with his right hand and walked to his room. As he passed Harry's bedroom door, he could detect the sounds of Harry sleeping soundly. Snape sighed with relief and pushed his own door open. What he needed now was rest. It had been a tiring day, emotionally and mentally. He'd started out filled with concern about Harry's well-being and then had visited a part of himself he shut off from the world. It was a part he denied anyone else to ever know, and that included himself. He slipped his shoes off and set them next to his bed, for once not untying them first. Then he let his head hit the pillow, and drifted off to sleep.

------------------------ ~♥~ ------------------------

Bang. Bang. Bang. Snape opened his eyes. What was going on? The banging sound from Harry's room continued and Snape smiled wryly to himself. Harry was not only awake, but he was insistent that Snape know all about it. Pushing open the door, Snape saw Harry standing up in his crib, holding himself there with one hand, and using the other to hit a plastic rattle against the crib's side.

"You may stop abusing that poor rattle now, Harry," Snape said, picking him up. "Professor Snape understands. You're up."

Harry looked at Snape as though he were very disappointed and muttered something in baby language is a tone which could only be interpreted as scolding.

"Yes, I understand, Harry. I've been a very bad Snape, keeping you waiting. Too bad I'm not raising you to be spoiled this way, isn't it?" Snape said, carrying Harry into the kitchen, and strapping him into his booster seat at the kitchen table. It was dinner time, and Snape decided to cook tonight. True, the house elves were capable of bringing them dinner, but it wouldn't hurt Snape to put something together. It was an odd mood that took him every now and again, the inclination to cook. Once Dumbledore had found out and told some of the other professors that Severus liked cooking. For about two months after, they had teased him, asking him to bring cookies to staff meetings, and making clever remarks about how it wasn't surprising, because, "after all, cooking and potions are basically the same subject". Minerva had even given him an apron. Which Snape had burned. Snape snorted as he threw some pork cutlets into a frying pan and set them cooking with a quick, non verbal incantation. He snorted in a very dignified way though, or at least so he told himself. Harry, hearing the noise, decided to repeat it. His snort was not anywhere near dignified, though very loud. Snape turned, startled.

"Goodness Harry, aren't we the little pig today?" he asked with a smile.

Harry looked at him confused.

"Snort is what the piggies say," Snape explained, snorting again for Harry's benefit. It was the first time in his life Snape had used the word "piggies". He turned back to the stove and with a quick flick of his wand, summoned some of the spices from the rack, and he had the meat seasoned quickly. It wasn't such a hysterical thing, Snape cooking. It wasn't like he stood behind big, marble counters, his hair done up like Julia Child, and explained to other people how to properly butcher a chicken or bake a pie. He just enjoyed the fact that he was completely self-reliant. He had to be.