Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Four: Introductions

"It's not true. Some have great stories, pretty stories that take place at lakes with boats and friends and noodle salad. Just no one in this car. But, a lot of people, that's their story. Good times, noodle salad. What makes it so hard is not that you had it bad, but that you're that pissed that so many others had it good." –Melvin Udall

Harry dried dishes as she handed them to him. They had been quiet for several minutes before Harry finally got up the nerve to ask, "Snape said your mother passed away. Do you mind if I ask how it happened?" Neruda's eyes never left the dishes, and her hands continued to steadily move as she answered, "My mother was murdered by Death Eaters during the war. The same is true of my sister, and my biological father." Harry took another dish and dried it slowly, trying not to look away from them. When he replied his voice was not as steady as hers had been. "So Snape adopted you after the war?"

Neruda handed him the last dish, and then directed him to the small table in the kitchen. Harry sat, and she placed a cup in front of him and started a batch of tea. After several moments of industrious silence she sat in front of him waiting for the tea to begin boiling.

"Father and I met while my family was being held captive by the Death Eaters. He was commissioned to make me better, and in doing so I became very fond of him. After the war, and his trial, an auror that had been put into the Department of Families helped push the official adoption through. The papers were filed after he was found innocent." She stopped to pick up the teapot, and then to pour them both a cup before sitting and taking back up her story.

"I understand that it was mainly your intervention that saved my father's life. I cannot thank you enough for that Mr. Potter, and yet that isn't the reason I invited you here tonight. My father lives his life entirely for me. I know sometimes it seems hard to believe, and you probably get the impression he's disappointed in my lack of magical ability. That isn't the case. But father is lacking in…adult companionship. It wasn't hard to notice that you were as well, and I believe that the two of you could become very good friends. I wanted you to come here so that a friendship could develop between you two."

Harry sat silent across from her, unsure of what he should respond with. Finally he asked hesitantly, "Neruda, how old are you?" She smiled, "Twelve. I turned twelve last month." Harry shook his head. "I know that you're very mature for your age, I can see that, but what you're asking is probably impossible. Your father and I have a history, and it's not very good. I wouldn't mind being friendly with him, but I can't see it happening." Neruda grabbed Harry's hand, and the rest of his objections died before they could cross his lips. "Please Mr. Potter. You have to give my father a chance to prove you wrong. It takes him a while to open up to people, but once he does it's worth it. Trust me." Harry stared into her dark eyes for several moments, before he nodded and she released his hand. She looked away before she spoke again, "When I met father I wasn't frightened. I knew that he wouldn't…hurt me the way the others had. I knew he would protect me. He was in a terrible position, and instead of turning me back over to them he exaggerated my injuries to keep me safe. Even when he found out the truth about me and my family, he never once exploited my feelings for him. He's a good man. He deserves to be happy."

Confused, Harry leaned in and asked, "What truth about your family?" The kitchen door swung open, and anything else she might have said went away with the sight of Severus Snape. He stood silently in the doorway for several moments before crossing to the counters to take a teacup, and then joining them at the table and pouring himself a cup. "Mr. Potter. I was wondering if you'd join us again next Wednesday? Seeing as Neruda has taken such a liking to you it would be pleasant to have your company again."

For the first three weeks Harry went to dinner with Neruda and Snape it was the same as the first evening. Dinner was always wonderful, Snape always joined them when it was time to eat, and left during the cleanup. He was silent, but Neruda and Harry talked about all manner of things as they sat at the table. Harry never got a chance to pursue the questions he had regarding Neruda's family, as Snape would join them for tea afterwards. Whether he knew that Harry and Neruda had begun the conversation was unclear, but Harry suspected he did.

Snape never spoke during the after dinner teas, but he always followed the conversations with his eyes. The fourth week signaled a change, as Snape was the one who answered the door. He led Harry to the dining room, then came out of the kitchen with a train of dishes floating behind him. It was only after he called upstairs to Neruda that Harry realized he had been the chef for the night. It was all Harry could do to avoid smelling the food for potions.

Dinner that night had another noticeable difference, as Snape would occasionally join in on the conversation Harry and Neruda were having about literature. Snape's opinions were short, and often slightly harsh, but it was the mentioning of Oscar Wilde that changed everything. Snape's commentary on Wilde's harsh views regarding societal customs was insightful and witty, and Harry surprised himself and Snape by laughing at one of his comments. Neruda seemed overly pleased.

After dinner Snape offered for Harry to join him in his study for drinks. Neruda claimed exhaustion and headed to bed. Harry had one Firewhiskey with Snape, and fifteen minutes of an almost comfortable silence before he excused himself. His work on his latest novel flew, and Ralston's more human image refined itself with each page.

The fifth and sixth weeks saw Snape commenting more and more, and on the seventh he actually started one of the debates. This time the topic was music, and Snape and Harry found themselves in a rather lively discussion regarding the value of modern rock music. Neruda sat quietly smiling at the two of them. The new after dinner tradition had become a glass of liquor in the study, and Neruda drinking tea. Harry was no longer invited to Wednesday night dinners, he simply came and they were prepared for him. The more he went the more comfortable he became with the father and daughter. His concerns regarding her home life slipped away as he saw countless examples of Snape's devotion to his daughter. Slight touches to the top of her head, or her shoulder were common practice. When she went to bed Snape would often excuse himself to check on her before returning to the study. Harry found himself staying later and later as conversation between the two men became a regular occurrence.

After two months the dinners became Wednesday and Friday nights, and Harry found that Snape's insights regarding his protagonist were not only helpful but necessary. Neruda had a second show around that time, and Harry went with the two of them to see her sing.

He was once again amazed by the power of her voice, and the insight her songs had. It scared him how adult she was when she was on stage, and he was often reminded of that first night, and the way she reported the deaths of her family. He wondered at what the Death Eaters did to her, and why they had targeted her family in the first place. He didn't dare ask.

It was the third month of these visits that Harry's dinners became three nights a week, and he found that he had begun to come an hour or two before dinner without planning too. Snape had opened the Floo to him, and Harry was glad to avoid trudging through the deep snow to get to the house. It was at one of their Friday night dinners a week before Christmas that the topic of the holidays came up. Neruda began it.

"Mr. Potter, will you be spending Christmas with the Weasleys?" Snape looked up from the book he was reading, and closed it around his finger. Harry hesitated, "No. Probably not. Ron likes to go see his family, and I don't really visit the Burrow anymore." The room was silent for several moments. Neruda was staring intensely at her father, but Snape was looking into the fire. Finally he spoke, "Potter. You would be welcome to come here if you have nowhere else to go."

Harry reminded himself it would be bad form to stare with his mouth open, so he kept it closed while he considered the offer. Snape waited a few moments, and then roughly said, "It was just an offer Potter. You can say no without breaking my delicate heart." Harry jerked at the rebuke, and Neruda winced slightly. "That's not it. It just seems like it would be an imposition to stay during such a family oriented holiday." Snape still wasn't looking at him, but Neruda stood and walked towards the door.

"I'm very tired. I think I'll head to bed now. I hope you change your mind Mr. Potter." Snape sat silently looking into the fire, and Harry sensed that the two of them had taken a backwards step. He tried to find a way to fix things. "Look, it's just that Neruda told me about her family, and I thought-" Snape had stood so fast Harry wasn't sure what was happening till Snape's hand was on his shoulder and his wand at Harry's throat. "What did she tell you Potter? What did she tell you and who did you tell?"