After the trip to the bookshop Harry changed dramatically. It was as if some sort of switch had been flipped inside him. Where he had previously been quiet, distant and self-sufficient he was suddenly very clingy and desperate for attention.

It worried Albus. Before Harry had acted like a much older child, doing things by himself and never asking for help. Now he was behaving more like a toddler, unwilling to leave Albus's side for more than a minute at a time. He also talked incessantly, assaulting his guardian with an endless barrage of questions.

'How old are you? Are your parents still alive? Do you have any brothers and sisters?'

One question after another, with barely a breath between them. Albus tried to answer each one in order but found this difficult because Harry kept interrupting him to ask more.

'I'm a hundred and four,' He told Harry. 'My parents -'

'That's so old!' Harry exclaimed. 'When's your birthday?'

'The twenty-eighth of August,' Albus replied. 'My parents are both dead, unfortunately.'

'Did they die when you were young or old?'

'They died when I was young,' Albus said. 'My father died when I was eleven and my mother died just after I turned eighteen.'

'How did they die?' Harry continued relentlessly. 'Was it some sort of accident?'

Albus had to pause for a moment to work out how to phrase his answer. He didn't want to lie to Harry but the circumstances of his parents death were very complicated, not to mention painful. Thankfully Harry didn't try and fill the brief moment of silence with yet another question.

'My mother died in an accident,' He said eventually, 'while I was at school. My father died from an illness. He went away somewhere quite dangerous, got sick there and died before he could come home.'

'I'm sorry,' Harry said. 'Do you remember them much?'

'Yes, I remember them quite well although they all died a long time ago.'

Albus decided to press on quickly and get through all the other uncomfortable questions.

'I used to have a little sister but she died too,' he told Harry, 'when she was fourteen. I have one brother who's still alive. He's my only living relative.'

'Is your brother as old as you?' Harry asked.

'A year younger,' Albus said, with a strained little smile. 'He would be one hundred and three now.'

'Does he -'

'I think that's enough questions for now,' Albus said gently.

Harry blinked. 'Why?' Another question.

'Well, we don't want to run out of them,' Albus replied teasingly. 'We should save some for tomorrow, at least. We have plenty of time to get to know each other.'

He felt he had to be firm with Harry otherwise they would be at it all day. Harry was obviously thrilled to have someone finally paying attention to him but he also seemed terrified that they might lose interest at any second.

It would be some time before Harry learned that Albus wasn't going to just disappear if he took his eyes off him for too long. Until then, Albus would probably have to force Harry to spend time alone.

The Oxford house had a good-sized study that Albus had claimed as his own and he quickly established the rule that whenever the door was closed he was not to be disturbed.

'I've got a lot of work to do,' he told Harry, 'so I'll be in my study for most of the day. You'll need to entertain yourself during that time.'

'What am I supposed to do?' Harry demanded incredulously.

'You can do whatever you like,' Albus replied, 'as long as you stay in the house or the garden. You have plenty of toys to play with and I'm sure you can come up with some interesting games to pass the time.'

Harry seemed unconvinced. 'I don't want to play by myself,' he complained. 'Why won't you play with me?'

'Because I am a very boring old man,' Albus said wryly. 'Besides, didn't you play by yourself at your aunt and uncle's house?'

'Yes, but I didn't like it!' Harry exclaimed hotly. 'I want you to play with me! And you're not a boring old man! That's just an excuse!'

'I am a very boring old man,' Albus said seriously, 'and I have a lot of very dull, boring work to attend to.'

'What sort of work?' Harry demanded suspiciously.

He seemed to have already worked-out that Albus Dumbledore was a strange and powerful man and assumed that any work he was involved in must be equally remarkable.

'Mostly reading books, articles and essays,' Albus told him. 'Nothing that you would find interesting.'

'Can't I just sit with you while you read?' Harry asked unhappily. 'I won't be in your way. I won't even talk if you won't want me to.'

Albus found it remarkable that Harry would rather sit silently in an office with him than play in a room full of toys by himself. It spoke volumes about how lonely he was.

'No, I'm sorry,' Albus said. 'I need to be alone sometimes without any distractions, so that I can work properly.'

When will I see you, though?' Harry asked miserably.

'We'll sit together in the evenings,' Albus promised him, 'After dinner until bedtime. We'll read together and talk and play games then.'

Harry eyed him uncertainly. 'All evening?' He asked suspiciously.

'Yes,' Albus assured him, 'and we'll have breakfast, lunch and dinner together too.'

Albus quickly drafted a schedule for Harry with set times for meals, chores and activities. It was naturally modelled on the Hogwarts timetable, with breakfast at half-seven, lunch at twelve and dinner at five, but the bulk of the day was left free for play.

Albus also modelled their meals on what was served at Hogwarts, although the food he prepared obviously couldn't compare to what team of experienced house-elves produced. His skill in transfiguration allowed him to create meals that were of a reasonable quality and he learnt to adjust the dishes to suit Harry's tastes through trial and error.

Albus worked hard to conceal the fact that he was using magic when cooking, even going so far as to lay out all the ingredients in the kitchen and inviting Harry to help him prepare them. This also gave them something else to do together and helped make mealtimes a bigger, more exciting activity.

At first, Albus only gave Harry very simple tasks like cracking several eggs into a bowl or opening tins and emoting their contents into saucepans, but none of these jobs took that long and didn't take much effort either so he decided to take it up a notch.

'We'll have a full roast dinner tonight,' he announced one day, 'and you can peel and chop all the vegetables for me. Then we'll put them in the oven to roast.'

He demonstrated first, stripping-down and slicing-up a carrot, and then handed Harry the knife. Harry handled it clumsily, as expected for such a small child, and Albus had to reach over a couple of times to correct his grip and move his fingers out of the way, but he managed to get the hang of it eventually.

Albus knew that most muggles would not let a four-year-old handle a knife but he didn't think it was that dangerous an activity, under supervision. He supposed that, like all wizards, he had developed a rather cavalier attitude to injuries. When broken bones can be fixed with the flick of a wand it's easy to become careless.

A muggle parent would have to worry about their child inadvertently slicing off one of their fingers or stabbing themselves in the face. Any accident, no matter how small, would mean permanent damage. Eyeballs could not be popped back into their sockets and scars could not be smoothed over. For muggles, it simply wasn't worth the risk.

'You've done really well,' Albus told Harry, once he had finished with the carrots.

'Not really,' Harry replied sadly. 'I took too much off and they're all lumpy.'

'That doesn't matter,' Albus assured him, 'they'll taste just as good and you'll do even better next time.'

Albus's mind started to wander and he found himself thinking about potions preparations. A lot of that was just chopping and slicing, after all. As Harry started to work his way through a sack of potatoes Albus considered how he might fare with herbs and roots and leaves.

He didn't intend to start teaching Harry magic until he was old enough. In fact, he hoped to shield him from magic entirely until he was able to understand and control his own powers. But that didn't stop Albus from imagining all the different ways he could begin to lay the groundwork. It would be easy, for instance, to teach Harry about all the different plants with magical properties and help him to identify them.

Harry needn't know what he was being taught. He could be led to believe that this was part of basic biology, something that every child was taught about. Albus could guide him quietly without him ever realising it.

'We'll need to add some seasoning before we put the vegtables in to roast,' he told Harry once all the vegetables were sliced. 'Would you like to help with that too?'

Harry nodded eargerly.

'Then we'll need salt, pepper, rosemary and thyme,' Albus told him. 'Can you see which ones those are, on the shelf? Go fetch them down and we'll mix them up in a bowl with olive oil and vinegar.'

His eyes glinted a little as Harry measured out the powers with his fingers.

The routine that Albus had developed seemed to reassure Harry that he was not going to be abandoned any time soon and so he was a lot less anxious about spending time alone. However whenever he and Albus were together he was still quite needy and demanding.

Albus had anticipated that Harry would crave a great deal of love and attention, after being denied it for so long, but he still found himself completely overwhelmed by the sudden torrent of affection that came his way.

'I love you,' Harry declared as Albus tucked him neatly into bed. 'I love you more than anything or anyone in the world.'

'I love you too, Harry,' Albus replied softly, because he knew that was what he was supposed to say.

He didn't really believe that Harry loved him. Not yet, anyway. They were still practically strangers and hadn't spent enough time together to develop a deep familial bond.

When Harry said 'I love you,' all he was really saying was, 'Please take care of me; I need you to survive.' And when Albus replied, 'I love you too,' all he was saying was, 'I promise I will; You are safe with me.' It was a script that nature had written long before either of them had ever been born. They were only playing their parts and speaking the lines that belonged to them.

One day they would say those words to each other and really mean them. They would look at each other and see someone that they truly knew, cared for and trusted. Then, when they said the words, they would inflict a stab of pain, just as surely as any curse.

Albus tried to push aside these thoughts as he stared down at the little boy in the bed. He could already feel the primal tug at his heart that urged for softness and sweetness. He reached out gently and stroked at the child's hair, carefully shifting it over to cover-up the lightning bolt scar.

'I love you very much, Harry,' he assured him. 'My brave little boy.'

He leant down gently and gave Harry a warm hug and a kiss goodnight. Harry hugged him back tightly and when Albus tried to pull away he kept on clinging to him.

'Again,' he whispered.

Albus found himself caught off-guard for the second time that night.

'Again?' He repeated, raising his eyebrows.

'Again!' Harry squealed back.

Albus sighed theatrically and then leant in for another hug. This time he covered Harry's cheek in a fluffy of small kisses. 'I love you,' he murmured into his ear, I love you so much I could just eat you up!'

Harry shrieked with delight and clung to him even harder. Once again when Albus tried to pull away he locked his arms tight about his neck.

'Again!' He demanded.

This struck Albus as a little excessive. He could see the little boy's shining bright and eager and his fingernails were digging into his skin. It was time to cut him off now and lay down the law.

'One more time,' He said slowly and deliberately. 'Then we're done. It's bedtime now, not playtime, and you need to get your sleep.'

He tried to make the final hug the warmest and tightest so far and kissed Harry at least a dozen times. He hoped that this would be enough to satisfy Harry, but unfortunately it wasn't. Children always want more.

'Again!' Harry demanded, as soon as Albus lifted his head.

'No,' Albus said sternly. 'I told you that was the last time.'

He reached up and started to untangle the boy's arms from his neck. Harry resisted though, clinging on for all he was worth and looking up at the man pleadingly.

'Once more?' He begged.

Albus had already said 'no' and given an explanation so didn't feel the need to repeat himself. He wasn't about to risk entering into an endless loop of 'please' - 'no' - 'please' - 'no.'

He took hold of Harry's arms and gently pushed him back down onto the bed. Harry tried to get up again right away, stretching out his arms eagerly, but Albus simply forced him back down a second time.

He was afraid that Harry might keep fighting him and he would have to decide whether to wrestle with him for the next half an hour or restrain him with magic, but after the second attempt all the fight seemed to drain out of Harry.

He shrunk back against the pillow and stared up at Albus with a stricken expression. Tears welled up in his eyes and his lips started to tremble. Albus quickly looked away, trying to harden his heart, but he couldn't shut out the sound of Harry drawing a long, shaky breath.

Harry had started crying properly by the time Albus reached the door. Not loud, impatient howls which would have been easy to ignore, but muffled little whimpers that sounded raw and genuine. Albus left hastily, without looking back.

Once downstairs Albus positioned himself in the armchair closest to the door and straighten his clothes. He knew he ought to find something to distract himself but he couldn't think of anything to do so he just sat there, in silence, and watched the clock.

Once half an hour had passed Albus cast a disillusionment charm over himself and crept back upstairs. It was quiet now and he took care not to make any noise as he nudged the bedroom door open.

He found Harry curled up in a tight ball under the covers, fast asleep. His face was smooth and calm, with only the slightest trace of tears upon his cheeks. Albus lingered for a moment, watching him breathing softly, and then left, closing the door silently behind him.