The more I re-read and re-edit what I've written of this, the more it seems like Harry will be more of a trouble to keep in character than Snape will. However... We do know that Harry was rather good at adapting to new situations in his earlier years, so perhaps his dramatically different upbringing can explain these odd quirks of his. And as for Snape, there is no living person tying him to Lily this time around, so perhaps rather than manipulate the man into continuing to work for him, Dumbledore spent more time helping him to heal.

By mid March, Harry had read through Professor Snape's collection of Little House books four times each. He had grown tired of making the house disappear and reappear, and had taken to exploring the woods, collecting strange plants and pretending to himself that they were potions ingredients. Sometimes he made mud-pies out of them, other times he tried summoning them from short distances- never trying too hard, of course, lest he make his head explode and have to explain his red face to his mother. And occasionally, he even succeeded.

Every day was a day closer to Easter, and Harry found himself marking off days on the calendar, counting down slowly and methodically as he did. His mother had thrown herself into her potions work, which was both lucky and unlucky for Harry, for although she did not spend enough time with him to notice that he had new books from nowhere, she also did not spend enough time with him to really be considered parental. Harry guessed that perhaps she felt he was now more or less able to take care of himself, and that she didn't like thinking about things that reminded her of his Dad. Even the job of glamouring him up before an outing, she had found a way to place on the pendant instead, and he came and left so quietly that he was certain she never actually knew whether or not he was there most of the time. It was becoming a rather sad existence for him. He missed his mother.

He missed Professor Snape, too. The snarky old man paid attention to him, and Harry couldn't wait to learn from him. He felt a little bad about lying to the Professor about his identity, but he knew he still may not be safe. Harry wished he had borrowed more books, but he had begun to focus on memorizing those potions books his mother owned which she had deemed suitable for him, and he was hoping to impress the Professor with his knowledge.

Finally the Easter holidays began, the first morning of which Harry rushed to the Professor's home, pendant swinging and books in his hands. He knocked eagerly at the door, grinning.

It was the first morning of the Easter holiday, and Severus Snape was pacing his front room like a caged tiger.

The brat was sure to show up today, and then what? Lucius had sent him an owl the previous evening- "Urgent Business," he claimed. But Evan was apparently on the run from Death Eaters- how was Severus going to explain away the young boy's inevitable appearance?

He was still lost in thought when Lucius showed up through the Floo, Draco in tow. He was still thinking about what to tell them, still exchanging pleasantries, when he heard an eager knock at the door and swore in his mind, whilst outwardly excusing himself to answer.

Professor Snape opened the door quickly, ushered Harry in and glanced around before shutting the door. Once it was closed, he looked at Harry with a glare that was both stern and cautious. Harry, who was used to the professor's harsh expressions, found himself able to stand his ground without wanting to shrink.

"Baker," he began quietly, "I have company today. You may come in, but these people are not people you should let your guard down in front of."

He paused and glanced into the hall, then stood straight and shut his eyes. Harry was slightly startled by a voice rattling through his mind, and used the doorway to steady himself.

Talk very little, and address me as Master Snape. If the man asks who you are, tell him I am your mother's colleague and friend. It is very important that these people think that you are from a prominent magical family, Evan. Do you understand?

Harry nodded numbly. He was afraid, but he knew Professor Snape would keep him safe. He followed Professor Snape into the sitting room, where his entire demeanor changed.

"You will have to wait for the ingredients your mother has requested," Professor Snape declared as they walked down the hall. "I have business with Mr. Malfoy first. I assume that will be acceptable."

Harry nodded again. "Yes, Master Snape."

"You will remain in the sitting room with Draco while I take care of matters with Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape declared, waving his arm at the room around him. "The bookshelves are charmed so that any books you should not be reading will not come off the shelves. You may help yourself to a cup of tea if you wish."

He then narrowed his eyes into a glare at both Harry and the other boy in the room, whom he guessed was probably Draco. "If you break anything, Merlin help you. Both of you will behave such as young men should, or you will certainly regret ever stepping into my home."

He then turned and went into the kitchen, where Lucius Malfoy sat at the table sipping tea, and let the door click softly behind him.

Draco Malfoy scoffed and flopped himself on the couch in a way that certainly did not befit a young man of his caliber. "Dramatic bat, isn't he?" he grumbled.

Harry frowned at the boy. He had possessions in his own room which he dealt with carefully, as they were his father's and he didn't want them broken. Of course, he couldn't speak for Professor Snape's possessions, but he thought he at least understood the wish to keep his possessions out of harm's way.

Draco turned and looked at Harry, as if noticing him for the first time. "Who are you?" he asked, with such disdain that Harry found it hard to reply civilly.

"Evan," he said, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco announced, although Harry already knew his name and hadn't asked for an introduction. "I'm a pureblood."

"So?"

Draco jumped up as though he'd been slapped. "So? So my family's really old and has more gold than you could even dream of!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You think my family's penniless? You don't even know what my blood status is. For all you know, I could be from the oldest bloodline ever."

"Yeah right," grumbled Draco, flopping back onto the sofa.

Harry knew he was considered a half-blood. His mother had explained bloodlines and blood status to him when she had told him about the war. Personally, Harry thought it was all sort of rubbish. His mother was an amazing Muggle Born witch, and Draco, this supposed Pureblood, was one of the most sour people he had ever met.

By the time Professor Snape entered the sitting room with Lucius Malfoy, Harry had found a potions ingredients encyclopedia explaining many ingredients used in simple potions and their effects and the different ways to prepare them and whether that changed their effects. While Draco had spent his time fiddling with some odd ornament, Harry had read all of the information on five different ingredients when he was interrupted by the sound of the door softly clicking open.

Draco sat up quickly and, upon seeing his father, stood. "Father," he said with a serious nod.

"Draco," Lucius acknowledged. "I trust you behaved yourself."

"Yes, Father," Draco's polite voice was almost robotic, as though he had rehearsed this phrase from birth onwards. Harry frowned at the exchange.

"Lucius," cut in Professor Snape, "allow me to introduce you to my neighbor, Evan Baker. Baker often runs errands for his mother, Madam Baker, a potions master who lives nearby. Evan, this is Lucius Malfoy."

Harry stood quickly and walked up to Lucius, holding out his hand. Lucius gave it a quick squeeze, and dropped it just as quickly with a slight nod to Harry.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir," Harry said, recalling the high manners he had been taught by his mother and Gram to use when being introduced to others.

"And yours, Mr. Baker," said Lucius. He turned to Snape. "Lending out ingredients, Severus? This seems so unlike you."

The good professor thought quickly. "I owe her for her aid with a project of mine. I am sure you can understand such matters, Lucius."

Lucius nodded with approval. Apparently, deals such as that were common.

"Draco, come."

Draco moved as though imperiused, trailing after his father straight out the door.

After they had left, Professor Snape seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"So," he began, turning to Harry, "what did you think of Draco Malfoy, Evan?"

Harry made a face. "I didn't like him, sir."

"And why not?"

"He was just so... Arrogant and pretentious, sir, yet trained like a dog to follow his father. It was unbearable."

Professor Snape raised his eyebrows. Then, to Harry's surprise, he snorted.

"Never have I heard a Malfoy described so accurately- from a nine year old no less. I would advise you, however, not to make enemies out of that particular family. The Malfoys were known supporters of the Dark Lord."

A chill ran down Harry's spine as he realized exactly how much danger he had been in. He had, in a sense, shaken hands with the devil. He took a shaky breath and said, "Professor, if they had known who I was, I don't think I would have been able to avoid turning them into my enemies."

Professor Snape gave him a long, silent look, as though trying to discover who he was. He did not respond, however. "Which book did you occupy yourself with, then?"

Harry held up the potions encyclopedia, which was old but in good condition. He did not miss the pained expression that flitted across the Potion's Master's face.

"Ah," he murmured, "good choice. This book will provide you with useful insight into the deeper nature of potion making."

He opened the front cover and traced his fingers lightly over a note that had been written into it. Harry, who had not noticed the note before, peered over to read it.

Happy Christmas, Sev! I saw this book in Flourish and Blotts and I just knew you would love it! Make sure you visit us some time today. Tuney's been horrible all week, and Mum and Dad have been asking about you.

Love,

Lily

"This book was a Christmas gift from a dear friend of mine during my first year of Hogwarts," Professor Snape reminisced softly. "I had nearly forgotten about it."

He handed it back to Harry, who took it delicately, aware that the writer of this note shared a name with his mother. "What happened to her, sir?"

Professor Snape turned away. "The Dark Lord himself went after her. She was murdered almost ten years ago now."

So, not Harry's mother. "I'm sorry, sir," Harry said, and he meant it.

"She would have liked you quite a bit," Professor Snape mused. He thought to the Little House books the boy had borrowed, which had come back in a better condition than they had left in, and made up his mind. "Why don't you keep that as reference for a while? I daresay you will need it if you truly wish to prove yourself capable in the art of brewing..."

Harry grinned and thanked the Professor. "I promise I'll keep it safe, sir."

The rest of Harry's time at Professor Snape's house passed without incident. He found himself intrigued by some of the stranger properties of certain ingredients and had begun a list of questions to ask the professor on a parchment he had been given for that very purpose.

Harry returned home with the book under his arm and carefully hid it in his room before running down to greet his mother.

Lily Evans-Potter turned from the potion she was brewing in the lab and smiled at her son. "Harry! I'm glad you're back. Come see what the apothecary requested this month."

Harry climbed up to the stool next to where his mother was standing and peered into the cauldron. It was the most beautiful potion he had ever seen. It seemed to be a glittering purple and orange haze, which swirled and floated inside the cauldron.

"What is it, Mum?" he asked, awestruck.

"It's a type of healing potion called Breath of Purity. It cleanses most potions from the system, especially those which are malicious. It won't work on some of the darker magiks, though. In a moment I'm going to add three drops of Pheonix tears, and it will settle into a liquid which I can bottle."

"What does it taste like?"

Lily looked up from the cauldron, thinking. "Let's see... I had to take some in my sixth year after a potions accident. It tasted like cold strawberries. It was very refreshing, and I felt light and happy the rest of the week."

"Why can't we take some, then?"

Lily smiled. "I have exactly three vials in case of emergency, Harry, but taking too much or taking it when you don't need it can cause memory loss. That's why it's important that you only take it when you need to. That goes for any and all potions, Harry."

Harry nodded. His mother had lectured him over the dangers of taking potions willy-nilly quite a few times. He didn't think he was likely to ever do it, but then, there were plenty of things he hadn't thought likely before this year.