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(Disclaimer: don't own, never will, don't plan to. Just doing it for fun.)

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Chapter 9: The Call of Kind

Severus Snape woke in the dark and sat up in alarm. Harry was moaning and weeping in his sleep. The child's voice was very soft, but his distress was palpable. With a muttered lumos, the Professor ignited his wand and got up to check on the boy. Harry could be just having a bad dream, or he could be in agony. Or he might be crying over his new knowledge that he was a Werewolf. Snape was beginning to feel tired of calming the crying boy every few hours, but he knew Harry couldn't help it. He was undergoing some very stressful changes right now and it was more than understandable that the boy was extra emotional.

Under the light of his wand, the Professor saw that Harry was asleep, but the child was squirming and whimpering, and tears were rolling down his cheeks. Severus sighed and reached out to shake him awake.

"Harry," he whispered. "Wake up."

The boy jerked awake, blinking in confusion. "Pr'fessor?"

"You were dreaming, Harry," Professor Snape said in as soothing a voice as he could manage, touching the boy's forehead. He was warm with fever again, but it wasn't very high.

"I don't wanna go; not really, I promise!" Harry whispered, seizing his hand. "Don't let 'im take me!" he pleaded.

"I won't let anyone take you," the Professor retorted sternly. "Now calm down. The house is safe, you're safe, and I'm here. There is nothing for you to worry about."

"But he keeps coming!" Harry sobbed, clutching Severus' hand more tightly. "He comes … and … and I want to go with him … But I don't want to! Not really! Am I going crazy? You're sure I don't have rabies?"

Severus Snape frowned in confusion and shook his head. "It was just a dream," he said firmly. "No one is going to take you away, and you won't be able to leave anyway. My home is warded and no one can come in unless I let them. You are perfectly safe, now calm down."

"I'm cold," the boy whimpered, biting his lip. He shivered palpably, and didn't let go of Snape's hand.

"You have a low fever," he answered shortly. "Being feverish makes you chilled. If you go back to sleep, you should feel better."

"But I'm c-cold," Harry whispered, choking on tears.

Snape sighed again and put his glowing wand down on the bedside table so he wouldn't take the light with him. "Kindly let go of my hand," he snapped. "I'll find you another blanket."

The boy released him and Severus went out into the hallway. In the linen closet, he usually kept his winter blankets. On the top shelf, he found his mother's favorite quilt. When he was ill as a child, it was the one Eileen Snape had wrapped him in. The dark blue and green squares were simple, but elegant. She had added black embroidered flowers across the checkerboard pattern until it was covered in veritable garden of fantastic blossoms, leaves, and vines of black thread. He smoothed his hand over it, and instinctively brought it to his face to breathe in the scent of wood smoke, herbal tea, and lemons. He blinked back the sudden wetness in his eyes and shook his head in disgust at his sentimentality. If Harry was cold, he could use this quilt. It wasn't as if Severus had any sort of attachment to the stupid blanket or anything. He shut the linen closet a bit harder than necessary and went back to the bedroom. The light from his wand still cast a soft, silvery light around the room, illuminating the boy huddled under the quilt, shivering.

He wordlessly unfolded the quilt and dropped it on top of Harry. The boy's green eyes peeked up at him and he gave the Professor a wobbly smile of gratitude.

"Thank you," the boy whispered.

Severus grunted and rubbed his tired eyes. "Yes, fine, you're welcome; now go back to sleep. I have another long day tomorrow."

"Um … Pr'fessor?" Harry whispered, faintly.

Snape scowled and picked up his wand. "Yes?" he answered testily. He was aware that he was being unnecessarily grumpy with the child, and he winced internally, cursing himself for being such a grumpy git.

"N-never mind," Harry mumbled, ducking under the blanket. "It's stupid anyway … I'm not a baby. I'm s-sorry, Professor."

"For Merlin's sake," the man hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Out with it! I apologize for being so terse … but I am normally grumpy when I wake up. It has no reflection on you … Now, what did you want to ask me?"

Harry peeked back out from under his quilts, his eyes pooling with tears. "Could you stay with me, please?" he asked in a tiny voice.

Snape frowned and cocked his head at the boy. "I am already staying with you," he pointed out, gesturing at the cot behind him.

The boy blinked rapidly and the tears rolled down his face. "But I'm cold," he whispered. "C-could y-you … h-hold me? Please?"

Ah. Severus swallowed hard as he considered the request. The boy wanted Severus to sleep with him, and … cuddle with him, to keep him safe from the bad dreams. The thought wasn't completely abhorrent to him, (well, maybe it was) but he was uneasy about it anyway. What right had he to share the same bed as Lily's son? It wasn't as if he was the boy's father or something. However, if it would help the brat finally sleep through the night and keep him from waking up at all hours and keeping Snape up too…

"Fine," he muttered. "But don't get mad at me if I roll over you in the night."

He was rather surprised when the boy laughed softly at his sarcasm, and scooted over even more for him. Severus sighed, crossed over to the other side of the bed, and slid into bed beside the boy. To his shock, the boy wriggled up next to him and snuggled his warm little body up very close against his torso. He froze stiffly as the child slung a thin arm across his chest and sighed contentedly.

"G'night, Pr'fessor," Harry murmured. With another sigh, the child was off to dreamland, leaving a very confused man behind.

Professor Snape wasn't an affectionate person. Even people he had been occasionally friendly with would attest that he was uncomfortable with the thought of physical closeness, like hugging or (shudder) snuggling. He kept people at arm's length, and he thanked people to keep their distance. Or rather, he didn't thank them. At any rate, he discouraged others from coming close enough to smash down his walls of privacy and protection. He used sarcasm, cruelty, a biting tongue, and a very frightening scowl to keep other far away from his circle. He had been hurt too many times to trust that anyone would respect his boundaries or privacy if he was civil about it. If other people thought he was a nasty, bad-tempered git with a world-class talent in grudge-holding … they were not far off, now were they? He was perfectly alright with being the evil bat of the dungeons, until this impossible child fell into his life and suddenly trusted him unconditionally, for not much of a reason at all. Yes, he had asked the boy to trust him, but it had been surprising how much Harry trusted him. If he wasn't careful, the boy might end up … attached to him, which wouldn't be very good for either of them.

While he had been okay with offering Harry physical reassurance, (like hugging) when he was emotionally distraught, or carrying the child when he felt that the boy needed it, Snape had never just held the boy simply because he wanted to be held. He hadn't really thought that it was … necessary. But lying here right now in his own bed, with a warm little body tucked up against his side like an eager puppy, (a werewolf pup?!) he felt strange. 'Confused' was the best word to describe how he felt, because he didn't really know what he felt. On the one side, he felt a surge of pleasure, that the child trusted him, wanted him close, and was willing to come close to him for comfort. It was a good feeling, to be needed. But on the other hand, he wondered again what this boy saw in him that was so attractive. Why would any child want to be close to him? It made him uneasy, and he automatically started panicking about what the reaction of his colleagues might be if they found out that he was sleeping with a little boy who wasn't related to him. Would they immediately assume the worst? He knew he would. Or might.

Abruptly, he shut off the wondering mechanics in his brain, realizing that he wasn't going to get any straight answers in his sleep-deprived state. He slid his arm under the boy and tucked him a little closer, (just to make sure he didn't roll off the bed or something) and he tilted his head until his cheek rested against the boy's soft hair. With a soft sigh, Severus Snape fell asleep, feeling suddenly content and … safe. But he didn't have time to analyze the surprising new thought.

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The Wolf called in his dreams to the pup he had lost. The Man was confused. In dreams, somehow the one called Pup, and his Wolf, met one another. But their minds remained separate. Suddenly the pup, who had been so clear before, quickly drifted away, connected to another life force, solid and immovable. It the mists of this dream space, the Wolf had been confounded yet again. The pup was powerful, he would give the whelp that much.

Come with me, pup! The Wolf called desperately, though he knew it was useless. The pup was gone for now. Perhaps he would try again later, or another night.

Who are you calling? The Man demanded for the hundredth time. I'm tired; we're tired. We need to sleep. Stop draining our magic looking for a puppy.

My pup is lost! The Wolf wailed, howling at the moon, which was always full in his dreams. Come back to me!

That's enough! The Man growled. Tell me right now what happened last Full Moon! Did you bite someone? What did you do?!

None of your business!

Of course it's my business! It's my body you're using!

The pup is powerful and he will be ours when we can find him, snarled the Wolf. That's all you need to know.

Well, maybe if you told me what happened I could find him, the Man tried a different tack. You are withholding information that could help me, us, find your pup. Or our pup, as it may be. Your magic tricks may not work, and if they don't, we'll lose the pup altogether. If you tell me what happened, we can work together to track down this pup.

The Wolf was silent. Without a word, the mental landscape fell away and the Man awoke.

He groaned and pressed a hand to his aching temples. His magical core, settled deep in his chest, throbbed with overuse and he cursed the Wolf under his breath. It was not often that the Wolf became obsessed about something, but when he did, the Man suffered for it. Carefully, cradling his aching head, the Werewolf crawled out of bed to fix coffee. No more sleep for him tonight.

In fact, he told the Wolf viciously, I'm just not going to sleep until you tell me what is going on! You can run yourself ragged, along with me, but I'm not letting you 'reach out' to this pup of yours again until I know what happened.

Of course, the Wolf remained sullenly silent. The Man sighed heavily and massaged his throbbing temples. His Wolf had not acted like this since he was a teenager, but back then, he had friends (a stag, a dog, and a rat, to be precise) to distract the Wolf and get him to drop the bones he picked up. The Wolf was incredibly stubborn and reckless, and the Man often wondered if that had always been a part of his personality, or whether the Werewolf bite had given him those attributes.

The Man shuffled into his little kitchen and calmed himself with the motions of fixing coffee on the tiny wood-burning stove, without magic of course. His magical core was already drained, so he wanted to be careful with his reserves. He glanced around the tiny space and smiled. He didn't even have a fireplace in his cabin, but it was the one place in the world he could call home. It was his refuge, and the miles of wilderness surrounding it provided the Wolf with a safe playground on full moons. He had kept the place a secret, even from his friends, and he was sure that most of the people he knew figured he slept under bridges or in muggle parks. His little cottage was in the middle of the Scottish highlands, in a rugged, remote area without any sort of population to speak of for miles and miles. The nearest habitation was a tiny magical village by the name of Loch Morcroft, named after a fifteenth century wizard Lord named Callistus Morcroft. The artificial lake there was named after the wizard who created it, as was the village that grew up around the castle. The castle was pretty much demolished, with only a crumbling stone tower left in the center of the town. They had numerous protections against werewolves too, only because Fenrir Greyback and his pack liked to come down out of the far mountains on occasion.

But it was a peaceful corner of the world, and the Man liked it here. Here he could think, and plan. Today, he was going to the Ministry of Magic to pick up yet another job in Azkaban. Apparently, two of the house elves had gone missing in the Death Eater tower. He was being hired to find them and solve the mystery. Ignoring his Wolf's whining for bacon, (which they didn't have) the Man ate an omelet and drained almost a full pot of scalding coffee. With chocolate in his pockets, his wand in his hand, and a plan in mind, Remus Lupin marched out of the house, beyond his wards, and disapparated with a crack that echoed off the surrounding mountainside.

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The floo downstairs whooshed, startling Severus out of a restful sleep. Groggily, he snapped his wand out of his sleeve holster and blinked around the room. Thankfully, the room was empty of intruders, and the light in the window proclaimed that it was past time to get up. Still nestled against his side, Harry stirred and lifted his head. His cheeks were rosy and wrinkled from the shirt he had been lying against all night, and he had drool at the corner of his mouth. Severus took one glance at the child, and his mouth twitched into an almost-smile. The boy looked, to put it frankly, adorably cherubic this morning. His green eyes were still sleepy, but they sparkled with new life. His red cheeks, (one with the imprint of one of Severus' buttons near the forehead) tousled hair, and sleepy blinking were all … well, cute. Not that it was a word in Snape's vocabulary anyway.

"Wha's goin' on?" Harry mumbled, and yawned.

"Don't know," Snape grunted. He disentangled himself from the boy and accioed his dressing gown. Wouldn't it be lovely to confront an intruder in his pajamas? "Stay here," he ordered the boy as he got out of bed. He stealthily went downstairs, skipping the creaky fourth step, and tied his dressing gown as he went.

"Severus? Are you there?" called a familiar voice from his sitting room. "I do hope you're not ignoring me."

Severus Snape paused at the bottom of the staircase and shut his eyes with a stifled groan. It was too early for the old meddler. What did he want at seven in the morning? Well, there was only one way to find out, he thought sarcastically at himself. He sighed in grumpy resignation and stepped into the sitting room, glaring at the old, bearded head floating in his green flames.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"A good morning to you too, dear boy!" Albus Dumbledore chuckled. "I trust I find you well?"

"You found me sleeping," Severus grumbled. "And you startled me awake. Are you trying to make my hair look like yours?"

"Considering what it looks like now?" the old man grinned mischievously.

Snape reached up and combed his fingers through his greasy hair, scowling his worst. He really hated morning people.

"May I come through?" the Headmaster said politely, all traces of his former teasing gone. "I'd like to discuss something important with you … and my back is already starting to protest my unusual position."

"Fine," Severus snarled. He flopped down in one of his armchairs and allowed himself the luxury of a yawn while Dumbledore took his head out of the chimney and walked through properly.

"I'd forgotten what a lovely home you have, Severus," Albus announced pleasantly once he dusted himself off. Severus sneered and cast a silent banishing charm on all the soot that flew off the old man's garish clothing. Today, he was wearing bright purple robes festooned with dancing silver unicorns. Ghastly.

"What do you want at seven in the morning?" Snape demanded sourly. "I do have a young charge to take care of before my classes begin today."

"It concerns your young charge," Dumbledore replied easily. He gestured at the other armchair. "May I?"

"Go ahead," Severus Snape sighed. He was longing for coffee and his head was starting to pound. Part of the damage from his youth was that excitement tended to give him a headache rather quickly; part of the reason he got so irate with the dunderheads in his class who insisted on continuing their stupidity until something spectacular and potentially deadly happened.

"I really am sorry I woke you," the aged Headmaster said sympathetically, as he sat in the squishy armchair. "I didn't realize you were sleeping in."

"Yes, well, Harry had a rather … interrupted night," Severus muttered. "He's … having dreams about the wolf that bit him … calling him. It is rather disturbing, and I haven't yet made the time to request Werewolf-related reading material from the Ministry."

"The wolf is calling him?" Dumbledore repeated, looking grave. "Oh dear."

"What 'oh dear'?" Snape barked.

"It isn't a very common complaint among new Werewolves," the old man explained. "But I've heard that particularly powerful Werewolves can establish a connection to those they infect. It is something like a homing signal, like that of geese, to guide the new Werewolf … home."

"Harry's home is right here," Severus seethed. "Should I establish an occlumency shield around his mind, then?"

"It is more of a physiological and a magical link rather than a mental one," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "I think Occlumency would not help much, if at all. Harry's own emerging wolf is longing for its … well, for lack of a better word, father."

"Alpha," the Professor snapped. "The proper term is Alpha."

"Ah yes, I stand corrected," the Headmaster smiled apologetically. "But as I was saying, the child's inner wolf is longing for the Werewolf that …er, created him, so to speak, and as I'm sure you know, the psychologies of the Wolf and the Man become intertwined, with one's desires and emotions leaking to the other, and vice versa. But Harry's best defense against the urge to seek out the Werewolf is right here."

"I fail to see your point."

"Dear boy, it is so obvious," Dumbledore smiled serenely. "Harry is at a very delicate stage of his transformation. As part wolf now, he will be instinctually driven to form or connect to his own pack. So long as you remain true to him, he will latch onto you as his … Alpha."

Severus considered that idea. It wouldn't be so terrible, if Harry's wolf considered him head of the proverbial pack. Maybe he could work with that. "That might not be so bad," he muttered. "He curled up next to me like a puppy last night." He jerked in shock as he realized that he had said it out loud, with the smug, self-satisfied meddler right in front of him. And yes, Dumbledore looked quite pleased. "Wipe that silly smirk off your face, old man," Severus growled. "You're too old to preen."

"Why, I don't know what you mean, Severus," the old meddler twinkled. "But I am happy for you. It is obvious that you and Harry are bonding well. So long as it continues, you need fear nothing from the Wolf's call."

"Right," Snape muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "So was that all?"

"Hmm? Oh heavens no, you're the one who brought up Harry's dreams," Dumbledore chuckled. "No, I wanted to see if you would like to bring the boy to Madam Pomfrey this Saturday afternoon. It will be the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and the First Years have organized a celebratory scavenger hunt for that day."

"Interesting," Severus muttered. "Who came up with such a brilliant idea?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "It is brilliant, isn't it? I believe it was that lovely young lady from Ravenclaw …what is her name?"

"Yes, I know the girl you're thinking of; Penelope Clearwater, isn't it?" Severus paused and drummed his fingers on his knee. Harry was doing much better, and the castle would be practically empty that day. He sighed and resisted the urge to shrug. "I suppose that would be acceptable," he murmured. "What time do you expect me to bring him?"

"I'll tell Madam Pomfrey to expect you at two o'clock," the Headmaster said briskly. "Is that too late?"

"It's fine," the Professor replied. He opened his mouth to say something else, but he was stopped by the sound of the staircase creaking. Severus glanced at Dumbledore, who was also tilting his head to side, listening. The Professor sighed and got up, marching over to the staircase. He should have known that boy would follow him down. Lucky thing he didn't know about that creaky step yet.

Sure enough, Harry was standing on the fourth step up, looking scared and pale. He shuffled his feet guiltily at the expression on Snape's face. "'M sorry," the boy mumbled. "I …"

"Never mind all that," Severus interrupted him, watching him anxiously. "How do you feel? Do your bones still hurt?"

"No sir," the boy brightened and smiled shyly at him. "I feel fine. Um … why were they hurting so much yesterday?"

"Ever heard of 'growing pains'?" the Professor asked drily. When the child nodded, he marched up the stairs and gently swept him up in his arms. "Well," he explained. "You are adjusting to the Werewolf venom in your blood, so you will be experiencing intermittent pain throughout your body until the full moon, while your bones and muscles and organs adjust."

"Oh," Harry murmured, frowning thoughtfully. "I'm hungry."

Severus almost smirked. "I'm sure you are. But I have a guest right now. Would you like to say hello, or would you prefer to go back upstairs where I told you to stay?"

The boy blushed and lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you," he whispered faintly. "Am I in trouble?"

"I don't think so," The Professor said thoughtfully. "Not this time, anyway."

"Is this the little one, Severus?" Dumbledore's voice came from behind them.

The boy jumped and took one look over Snape's shoulder before he squeaked and hid his face in the man's shoulder. Severus turned and carried Harry down the last three steps and passed the old man, heading to the kitchen.

"He's hungry," he muttered at the old meddler, and added sarcastically, "Join us for breakfast, why don't you?"

"Don't mind if I do," Dumbledore said cheerfully, ignoring the obvious sarcasm. "Hello Harry."

The boy squeaked again and smashed his face harder into Severus' shoulder. The man grunted uncomfortably and struggled to detach his little limpet. "You're hurting me," he muttered in the boy's ear when he started pinching in his effort to stay.

Harry went limp and let the Professor plunk him down in a chair at the table. The boy immediately hunched in on himself, intermittently eying Professor Dumbeldore with distrust and a little bit of fear. Severus sighed and rubbed his arm. That boy had a grip. Harry didn't seem to know what to do with himself, and his eyes darted around nervously, not staying on Dumbledore too long before he desperately sought out Severus' face for reassurance.

"Harry," Snape announced. "This is … my boss, Headmaster Dumbledore. You can call him Professor Dumbledore, or Headmaster if you prefer. He just stopped by to tell me something. Albus, this, obviously, is Harry."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Harry," the old man said warmly, holding out his hand. When Harry looked at it like it was a poisonous snake and shrank away from him, Dumbledore dropped his hand and slid into the chair across from Harry while Snape filled a pot for porridge.

"I know you don't know me yet," Dumbledore said gently, folding his hands atop the table. "But I hope that we can be friends one day. I'm good friends with Professor Snape, you know."

The boy blinked. "But you look like a scary wizard," he blurted out. "Like Merlin."

The old man chuckled warmly. "Why, thank you for saying so, Harry. But I really don't mean to look scary. What about me is so frightening? Is it the beard? Maybe the glasses?" He twinkled his blue eyes at the boy, who was frowning thoughtfully.

Harry didn't answer right away, but Severus smirked when he saw the boy's gaze lingering warily on the man's clothes. I agree with you there, boy, Snape thought sardonically. I've been telling him for years that his clothing choices are terrifying.

"You're wearing a purple nightgown," the boy said quietly. "I don't think it looks good."

Standing at the stove, Snape snorted in an attempt to stifle his roaring laughter.

"I know," the old man said wisely. "I wear crazy clothes so people think I'm crazy. They don't take crazy people seriously."

"Oh," Harry replied thoughtfully. "So that's why the Professor wears black. So people take him seriously."

Snape almost dropped his pot. He stopped and turned to stare incredulously at the boy. How had the child figured him out so quickly? Harry looked up, his expression solemn and thoughtful.

"That is very smart of you to deduce that," Dumbledore said easily, not noticing how Severus had been flabbergasted. "But I think he wears black because he's boring." He chuckled and glanced up to wink at Severus.

"If you consider respectability the same as boring, then I prefer boring," Professor Snape retorted as he lit the stove with his wand. "I wouldn't be caught dead in a clown costume like that." He gestured derisively at the old man's robe. He smirked suddenly. "Harry is right, you know. You look like you're in your granddaughter's pajamas."

"Ah Severus, I knew you had a sense of humour," the Headmaster laughed. "My granddaughter's pajamas, indeed." He cleared his throat and turned back to the boy across from him. "So, Harry; do you like living here with Professor Snape?"

Snape was heading to the cupboard to fetch oats and salt, but he glanced over curiously to see Harry's reaction. The boy was nodding enthusiastically.

"He's really nice to me," he said shyly. "Can I please stay here always, sir? I won't cause any trouble while he's at work, I promise."

"We shall see," the Headmaster said cautiously. "Nothing is certain yet. But I will do my best to make sure you and he can stay with one another, alright?"

Harry nodded, looking rather worried. He glanced over at Severus, and the man nodded back at him, careful to keep his facial expression … encouraging. It wouldn't do if the boy fretted himself into a fever.

"So, did Professor Snape tell you what he teaches at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked suddenly, changing the subject.

"What's Hogwarts?" the child asked blankly.

Severus Snape busied himself with the porridge and made coffee while the Headmaster told Harry all about Hogwarts and magic in a way that had the boy's eyes shining with excitement and his mouth running a mile a minute. Although Snape's head pounded and the child's high-pitched voice wasn't making it any better, he was glad the boy was happy and pain-free right now. He set out coffee cups and made Harry some peppermint tea while he fixed coffee for himself and the Headmaster.

Over breakfast, the boy continued to ask questions and Dumbledore continued to answer them with enthusiasm, while Snape nursed his growing headache and finished about half the pot of coffee, but hardly any of his porridge, though he grumped at Harry about finishing his own bowl.

"Hey, we're like the three bears!" Harry suddenly announced. His face was flushed with excitement and his eyes were sparkling. His teeth were crooked and white and Snape had never seen them so much since the boy got here. Then again, the boy hadn't grinned or laughed so much since he'd been here either. He felt uncommonly jealous of Dumbledore and the easy way he had with children.

"Three bears?" The Headmaster chuckled. "Whatever do you mean, Harry?"

"You know, like Goldilocks and the three bears," the boy explained. "You're the big bear, the Professor is the middle bear, and I'm the wee baby bear. It's 'cause there's three of us an' we're eating porridge. Plus, yours is still steaming, Headmaster, sir; and Professor let his get cold. But mine's just right."

Dumbeldore looked politely blank, and he turned to Severus for an explanation. The Potions Professor sighed and checked the kitchen clock. He would have to shower and get a move on soon, and the Headmaster would be missed at the breakfast table in the Great Hall. "Goldilocks and the Three Bears is muggle fairy tale about a girl who breaks into the home of three bears, finds three of everything, and destroys the house in the process," he explained. With a smirk, he added, "Maybe I'll get you a book of muggle bedtime stories for Christmas."

"She doesn't destroy everything. Professor," Harry protested, unconsciously cutting off the Headmaster's reply. "She only destroys Baby Bear's chair. She eats his porridge and sleeps in his bed too."

"My, my, poor baby bear," Dumbledore shook his head sympathetically. "Maybe someday when we have time, you'll have to tell me the whole story, Harry. It sounds like quite the tale. Did you memorize it from a book?"

The little boy flushed bright red and fell silent. He played with his spoon and didn't look up at the adults. Dumbledore was about to open his mouth, but Severus cut him off with a sharp gesture. Harry would talk when he was ready.

"I stole it, kinda," the boy finally whispered, still not looking up. "I mean, I wasn't supposed to hear it. But I couldn't help it really. I was laying in my cupboard and listening when Aunt Petunia read stories to Dudley. I got sent to my cupboard 'cause I was too distracting, and freaks don't deserve stories anyways." He suddenly stopped with a look of horror and looked up quickly at Professor Snape. "I'm sorry, Professor!" he gasped, almost trembling. "I forgot I wasn't supposed to say … the 'F' word."

Dumbledore coughed drily. Snape glared at him, seeing that the old man was fighting a smile at the innocent child's word-choice. He shook his head and turned his attention back to Harry.

"It's alright," Severus said reassuringly. "When you are telling me things about your Aunt and Uncle, I don't mind very much if you use that word only because you are quoting something they said. But what I don't want is you calling yourself a freak or referring to yourself, or anyone else, by that cruel name."

"Oh, okay," the boy sighed, looking relieved. He glanced up at the clock and stood up with his empty bowl and milk glass. "Um, sir?" he said hesitantly. "I think you're going to be late to work."

Severus glanced up and almost cursed out loud when he saw what time it was. How had he lost track? "See yourself out, if you please, Headmaster," he said hurriedly, and drained the last of his coffee. "I'll be down in a few minutes, Harry, so don't get into mischief."

He left the boy and the old man at the table while he rushed upstairs to take his shower and dress for the day, and hope that his first class of the day didn't care that he was going to be a couple of minutes behind.

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I'm back! Hope everyone who celebrates it had a marvelous Thanksgiving even with all the pandemic panicking everywhere. Shopping has been absolutely insane since my State's Governor has limited stores to only 75 people, from the supermarket to the grocery store despite their huge size difference. Ridiculous!

Anyway, here is another nice Harry/Snape bonding chapter and some Dumbledore interaction too. I will warn you: I'm currently writing chapter 16, and Dumbledore is gonna get some bashing. Those of you who don't like the old meddler acting like an absolute idiot, may as well stop reading now. But don't worry, Harry and Snape will be fine in the end and Dumbledore will feel really bad. Don't worry.

I love your reviews! They make me so happy!