Title : Snape's Treasure

Genre : Family

Characters : Snape, Harry

Summary : A Drabble A Day Keeps The Doctor Away Part 2. His father agreed. "These were treasure," he gestured elegantly around the room. Harry's curiosity perked. "They were?" He skipped to his father, wanting to know more. "Why? Did you find a new one?" he asked, very excited. His father's black eyes glowed brightly. "Now you are my treasure. One and only."

Disclaimer : Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I am making no profit.

.-.-.

Hogwarts and Spinner's End were the best places to live. Most of the time Harry spent his days in the wizarding school, where his adoptive father worked and taught him many things when he was not in the dungeons teaching his students. Sometimes Harry and his father stayed in Spinner's End during the holidays or long weekends. Harry liked both places.

That weekend his father decided to spend the time in his childhood home. "Spinner's End needs cleaning. I should make it a decent place for humans to live before the spider webs cover it all. It's been ages since we were there," his father –Snape- grumbled.

Harry giggled. "Wouldn't it be nice, Daddy? We're like human cocoons," he reasoned.

"Far from nice, Son," his father shook his head.

So that Saturday morning they flooed to the old house. His father directly went to his library, wand and cloths in hands.

Harry followed behind his father. He thought that the house really looked ancient but strong, unlike his Uncle Vernon's house: big and nothing was out of place. Aunt Petunia was crazy about cleanliness. Harry was sure if she saw his new home, she would sneer in disgust and say mean things, like how dirty the house was. Harry felt uneasy. He already tried to forget his life before his father had taken him. The Dursleys fed him alright and it was his duty to do some chores. Harry had been a healthy boy but miserable. It was unpleasant, the boy thought. He quickly took a look around to divert his attention.

His father had a lot of books, Harry had noticed. Most of them were very thick with very small writings. Harry had ever tried to read one and instantly got headache. They could make nice pillows, if you prefer hard and thick pillows.

"Are all of them about Potions, Daddy?" he asked.

His father paused and looked at him. "No, not all of them. Some are about plants and where to find them," he answered before wiping a book with a cloth.

Harry stepped closer. His father said that he could just play in the living room or read in his room, but Harry wanted to see how his father cleaned the books. "Why are you wiping it?" he asked curiously.

"To clean it," his father answered briskly. He sent him a look that saying Harry asked the obvious.

"I mean, why don't you just point your wand and let the magic do it," the small boy asked again. He got used to magic now. Harry knew how it worked: you had to spell incantations then some things were done. Magic was that amazing.

His father now fully faced him. A strand of black hair fell to his cheek. "Not all things can be done by swishing your wand. Just like potions. No unnecessary flick of wand is needed. Although I need my wand when some stupid students blow up their cauldrons and endanger everyone in the lab," he explained. Harry cringed. Who knew Potions could be that dangerous?

"These books are delicate. They're old." His father waved his hand. Harry's eyes followed the movement, looking at the stacks of books from the ceiling until down on the floor.

"Will magic break them?" Harry whispered. His green eyes wide with worry. He fiddled his fingers, suddenly worried and nervous.

His father's mouth turned up at the corner, a sign that he was amused. "No, but it's better if I clean them Muggle way."

"But you have thousands of books!" Harry exclaimed. He carefully walked around his father and counted the books in a bottom shelf near him. They were around thirty. He wondered how his father could wipe them all.

"I use magic for the newer ones. The old ones need special treatment." Snape rearranged the old tomes on the right shelf. The dust was thin, thankfully.

"It's like a treasure room, don't you think, Daddy? Your books are the treasure," Harry commented. He remembered Madam Pinch. The old librarian was very strict. Her love for her books was as huge as her dislike for the students. When somebody borrowed a book, she looked sour.

His father agreed. "These are treasure," he gestured elegantly around the room. "They were, actually."

Harry's curiosity perked. "They were?" He skipped to his father, wanting to know more. "Why? Did you find a new one?" he asked, very excited.

His father's black eyes glowed brightly. "Now you are my treasure. One and only."

Harry hugged his father. He felt a hand in his hair. It felt like love.

.-.-.

Until then…