A/N: All questions go on the bottom, guys! Or rather, all general answers.

For those who were there when this story was nothing more than a string of tantalising tidbits, the snippet cometh! The pretty one, to be exact, although I've amended and cut and disfigured it slightly.

In this chapter, as you've guessed, Harry and Severus finally take 'Tobias' for a spin on Diagon Alley, if rather sooner than they both expected. Do remember that conversation in «these brackets» is in Romanian. Now now, you didn't expect me to actually translate everything for you, did you? Back to the chapter…

Chapter 10: Shopping With Snapes

As Harry quickly discovered, frowning the special Snape Frown was all too easy when you had a thumping headache and were drained and weak from 'International Apparation'. He scowled as he half-stepped, half-stumbled out of the fireplace into the Leaky Cauldron, limbs quivering as much as he would let them from the Draining Drought his father had insisted he take an all-too-hearty sip of before leaving – for accuracy.

Screw accuracy with a ten-foot wand, was all 'Tobias' really had to say, now. Walking the Snape Way was even harder to pull off when one felt like someone had removed half one's insides and replaced them with an overwhelming urge to sleep somewhere. Anywhere.

"Wipe that pitiful look off your face this instant," came the low, rather good-natured snap from his father. "Snapes do not grimace in that way, not even when in pain. I've told you a thousand times – "

«You did a pretty good job of it in first year when Fluffy got you in the leg,» Harry snapped in return, unsurprised that it came out in menacing Romanian. He tended to lapse into it when he was particularly emotional, or so he had begun to realise –

"When you have been savaged by a three-headed dog, you may contort your stupid face into whatever ridiculous facial expression you wish, Toby." Harry bristled at the way his father said the name – that was, if he wasn't mistaken, the 'Potter' tone of contempt.

"It's Tobias to you, Uncle."

"Shut up and recite your list. Quickly." Harry – no, Tobias, he could not afford not to be in character from now – rolled his eyes as Snapeishly as possible, dug his hands into his threadbare pockets and began as they threaded their way through the crowded, rather gloomy pub.

«Robes, new cauldron, wand, one or two basic Potions supplies, quills and parchment, a few books, a standard broom of some kind, and…I think that's it.»

"Owl," Severus added, giving him a sharp look. "You keep forgetting that – "

"Whatever." Harry's – Tobias' shoulders sank down a fraction more at the comment. He'd desperately wanted to somehow bring Hedwig along – he'd even looked for some transfiguration spells last week, too, but Snape had been adamant that he buy a new owl.

"I can do those spells, you know that – it won't even take more than – "

"It does not matter how long or how skilled the transformation will be, don't you understand? It matters that you use magic as little as possible to help you on your way, in this plan." Severus gave him a tired look as he shuffled about the dusty books on the desk. "Spells and transformations can be broken, can be removed – you, of all people, should know."

It hadn't helped matters when their argument had degenerated into a yelling match about his father's morals, either. Harry – Tobias wriggled his fingers uncertainly, still frowning. They hadn't talked about the whole situation since their last argument in Severus' gloomy office, and that had been while the Enchantment Strengthener had been doing its work. He was still unsure as to what exactly had happened between Severus and his mother, and knew he couldn't accept James' immensely biased view of the situation. The problem was getting his sour father to actually speak about the whole thing, now that they were almost done with their feverish preparations for his return.

Maybe I'll ask him again, carefully – just before I go back to Hogwarts – Harry thought fleetingly, eyeing his brooding father as they finally shoved through to the entrance of Diagon Alley – to the counterpoint of the stares of intrigued witches and wizards in the pub, who could not seem to resist taking long looks at the two of them.

"Right," Severus began lowly, tapping the correct brick as impatiently as possible. "We will make short stops at the Apothecary and Eyelops, as well as at the cauldron shop, before heading for Madame Malkin's – I had a fitting appointment set up earlier this week, so we would have time to make a proper impression. After that, we will visit Flourish and Blott's, the Quidditch shop, and possibly the stationary shop as well. Ollivander's will be last, or at – " he seemed to check something on his wrist, as they passed through the archway – "two thirty- seven. You remember the drill, don't you, boy?"

"I'm not shaking because I'm nervous or stupid," Tobias retorted with a glare, ignoring the way his stomach belied his statement, "I'm shaking because you dosed me with that stupid draught – " Severus gave him a narrowed what-on-earth-are-you-thinking look – "instead of the proper Strengthening Solution. Sometimes, if I didn't know better, I would think you were still trying to poison me." He found himself hard-pressed to keep from smirking – Severus evidently still thought he'd be stupid enough to say something where anyone could hear them, and suspect.

Suspect what, Tobias was not entirely sure, seeing as no one could possibly have followed them from Snape Manor to the Leaky Cauldron without being Dumbledore or Remus and knowing what their plans were. And, besides, the wards wouldn't have let anyone who hadn't been Remus Lupin into the creaky old place. At least, that was what –

Bugger. 'Harry Potter' is truly not long for this world, is he? I'm getting paranoid over wards, for Merlin's sake –

"You forget entirely who I am," Snape returned calmly, turning away so Har – Tobias didn't catch the way his mouth twitched at the ends – a sure sign that he found something funny. "There are far easier, much less suspicious ways of ending your foolish young life, none of them to do with poison." And then they'd slipped into the Apothecary, and the first real test for 'Tobias' had begun.

It began well, with Tobias looking over ingredients with an avid, rapt air, hardly seeming to listen to Severus bantering with the store clerk, who he evidently knew and knew well. As agreed, Tobias tried to suggest or purchase some of the odder ingredients, and Snape shot him down mercilessly, establishing the dynamic they were to have at Hogwarts and elsewhere.

"For the last time, no, you shall not purchase whole bicorn horn, Tobias," Severus said waspishly, cutting into Har – Tobias' slightly plaintive spiel as he accepted the carefully shrunk ingredients, stowing them away in a bottomless-seeming black satchel. "I could not care less what devious little project – most likely illegal, knowing your tendencies – depends on it so. Now, for that cauldron of yours…" They crossed easily through the close, suspicious clusters of people in the street to reach the rather empty shop, where they proceeded to have a low, yet heated argument over whether Tobias needed a silver cauldron or not, rather than an ordinary bronze one, which rather seemed to attract the attention of the dozy, rather frightened-looking clerk on duty.

Having 'lost' that argument, Tobias argued very hard to be able to choose what kind of owl he wanted, making sure to fuss and scowl over the fact that he'd not been allowed to bring over his Black-and-White Hawk Eagle because of the inconvenience of the birds (rather odd) feeding and mating habits. Severus sighed and scowled, but gave in as planned, and soon he and Tobias were leaving the close, warm shop, Tobias carrying a rather large, shifty tawny owl preening within its cage, and thinking rather dazedly that that had gone far too well.

If he hadn't known any better, he'd have thought the middle-aged witch had been trying to flirt with him, or something. Tobias snorted, shifting the heavy owl cage – this fellow was rather larger than Hedwig had ever been – hoping to just get on with everything. Hoping his dad would not -

"It appears you already have yet another fan, Tobias."

– comment. Tobias did what could only be done with a sneering Severus at these moments, when you were trying not to collapse onto the – rather dangerous – uneven stones in Diagon Alley, which was now starting to hum with people hurrying this way and that. Namely, kept silent. It would hardly do to -

Wait – is that Tonks I just saw at Fortescue's –

"It is impolite to stare, Tobias," Snape sneered, jabbing him – rather unfairly – in the underarm. "Do try to remember you are among civilised people – " They turned haphazardly into Quidditch Quality Supplies, wrestling through the increased flow of people going to and fro. This time, Har – Tobias had no problem mustering the required hostility, despite the fact that he hadn't been supposed to be staring at Tonks as if he knew her.

Which he bloody well hadn't – he'd only paused for a minute, for crying out loud, and he did have some control over his bloody expressions nowadays, so he'd have known.

"I've always wondered if you got off on belittling me," Tobias said sharply, sending an acid look his father's way. "Now I know the truth – you probably do. I honestly can't see why – "

"Oh be silent, for Merlin's sake," snapped Severus, surprising the female shop assistant that had come their way, sales prattle clearly on the tip of her tongue. "It is enough, I assure you, to weary myself with your inane presence when I could be giving my attention to those things that merit it, thank you – "

Tobias rolled his eyes, turning unconcernedly to the shop assistant, who he tried a half-smile at. Surprisingly she responded with an odd one in return – well, a happy clerk was an unsuspecting one, so –

"I'm looking for a mid-line racing broom, nothing flashy," he cut in, smiling more to cover the rudeness of his interruption. "Not necessarily anything competitive – it'll be used mostly for travel, and such…" The witch pinked slightly – probably the accent, it had really gotten thicker than he'd imagined, somehow, but that couldn't be helped. Snape snorted disdainfully beside him, but Tobias could no longer care – he was eyeing the specimens on the wall, the Firebolt in particular, with hunger.

Been so long since I've really flown – maybe I'll play Quidditch at Hogwarts still… Tobias hazarded a glance over at his indifferent father, who seemed to somehow catch on to his line of thought immediately, narrowing his black eyes. Tobias was just about to follow his hopeful glance with a question when Severus spoke up.

"You can strip your brain of wonderful Quidditch victories, Tobias – apprentices are not allowed on the house teams. In any case." Snape firmly added, as colour drained from Harry – no, Tobias, fucking Tobias' face. Harry tried to contain his emotion – what had he been thinking, anyway – that he'd swoop in and reclaim the post of Gryffindor Quidditch Captain? Win the Quidditch Cup, for Slytherin?

Har – Tobias gave himself a tense little shake, using Occlumency as violently as possible against the despairing thoughts flooding into his brain. So that, by the time Annelise – the witch had told him that, now almost totally ignoring Severus as she leaned in closer than was necessary to tell him the final price of his purchase, a vague Nimbus model. He paid absently – thank Merlin Severus had thought to give him some gold before venturing into this shop -

They passed the oddly packed Flourish and Blott's, which, despite the burns and cracks in the storefront, seemed to teem with customers. And then – "Here we are." Tobias paused, a little woodenly, nerves and dread seeming to fill up the spaces within him that had previously screamed for endless sleep. Severus eyed him carefully, patting him a little too diffidently on the back as they found themselves before Madame Malkin's. Harry – Tobias exchanged a short glance with him, his heart lifting slightly as he confirmed that his father was somehow worried, and trying to soothe him in some way.

"Don't forget," Severus whispered, so quietly Harry – Tobias – had to strain to hear his smooth words, "to sneer." As they passed through the door, the merry jingling of the doorbell belying the rather sombre, hushed air within, Tobias began his perfected half-drawl, half-whine.

"Are you perfectly sure I'll need more than four pairs of robes, Severus…" Tobias trailed off, adding sullenly, "…sir…" Snape gave him an irritated look as one of the shop girls (who looked rather apprehensive of approaching the annoyed Potions Master) scuttled to a stop nearby.

"Can I help you, Mr…."

"Don't worry yourself, Katie dear – it's only Severus Snape, the Potions Master at Hogwarts," the loud, slightly less cheery voice of Madame Malkin cut through the girl's – it could be called nothing else – blithering – "Will it be the usual, Profe – ah, a new customer…"

At this, Madame Malkin came bustling up to the pair, her sharp eyes raking Tobias' features as he struggled to keep his (lightly sneering) face bored and uninterested. This, according to his father's numerous worrying rants (there were at least two kinds with him), was it – the most important person to convince. Madame Malkin, as he'd come to realise, was somewhat of a respected personality on Diagon Alley, as she usually saw every wizard personally for the first time, and sometimes (if they were influential enough) for subsequent visits.

In short, Tobias thought, taking a deep breath as unobtrusively as possible, she had the potential to be the most well-informed gossip in all of Wizarding Britain, next to Madame Rosmerta or the barkeep at The Hog's Head.

"This really is kind of you, Severus – and in these hard times, too – Katie, Lavinia, the tape measure, please – do have a seat, Professor…" The plump woman had Tobias up on the fitting wheel in a trice, motioning for him to remove his clearly threadbare robes to reveal a slightly too-tight t-shirt of an indeterminate greyish colour and worn, nondescript near-black trousers that Snape had insisted on Tobias wearing to emphasize his new extra skinniness.

"Do I have to wear this?" Harry had demanded.

"Most wizards will be either too disgusted at the state of your wardrobe to bother talking to you, or too busy wondering how badly I already treat you," Snape had remarked, intent on charming Harry's second tightest t-shirt an odd, muddy colour. Harry had been sceptical, but too nervous and eager to get started to bother arguing very much.

And it worked, too: Madame Malkin gave Professor Snape an appraising look after watching Tobias being put through his paces as sullenly as possible by a blinking Lavinia. Even as the tape began to fly about on its own, Tobias felt more than one pair of eyes rove over his back, only to find that the nervous shop assistant – Katie, he thought it was – had given up on her nervousness (at least, around him), and was now – Harry's face heated – eyeing up his bum.

And Harry – Tobias, he reminded himself, irritably, – still thought he was extremely lucky that his new face didn't heat up as readily as his old one. As he blushed and struggled to keep his face impassive, he remembered all too well how Severus had gleefully insisted those few times while they'd attempted to relax between their violent duelling sessions, that he was now rather – he'd shuddered – pretty. Harry, while guilty of more than one intensive foray into the dubious land of preening, had refused to even acknowledge the fact that his new features had a slightly girlish cast to them in the wrong light, but had privately, grudgingly admitted that he was rather more attractive than before. And, to add to his dark green eyes and thin, sharply expressive features, when the glamour had completely come off – and Harry had finally regained the lost weight and strength, sometime last week – his body had shown surprisingly more (underfed, to begin with) muscle and tone than he was at all used to. Again, Harry had admitted privately to an amused Remus, he'd always wondered why the little muscle he'd slowly acquired in Hogwarts had never really shown on his thin body.

Still, he'd never have thought that this girl he hardly even knew, who was probably much older than him, would have been staring at his arse.

"Your nephew, you say – ?" Madame Malkin was saying, as Lavinia started to pin black swathes onto Har – Tobias. Professor Snape crossed his legs, tapping one impatiently as he answered, that yes, it was his nephew – stubborn thing that he was – and that he'd be going to Hogwarts with him in time for the spring term, and would she please add a set or two of dress robes – something not too plain –

"Dress robes?" Tobias demanded, on cue. "But I thought – "

"The money your uncle gave me will cover that quite easily, Tobias. Yes, Madame, there'll be one or two small school balls at Hogwarts this year – to stave off the mad behaviour that would certainly arise once the children – " Snape said this as if it were a swear word, "realise their Hogsmeade outings shall continue to be denied them from now on."

"No Hogsmeade trips for the students?" Katy gasped, pausing so that a pin stuck rather hard into Tobias' shoulder. Harry – Tobias, conditioned by the practice with Snape, reacted immediately.

"If you don't mind," he put forth, sneering, "this whole process would be rather less painful if you paid attention to what you're doing." Tobias caught the small flicker of approval in Snape's eyes as he continued to speak, and felt only a little bad about the way the girl reddened and went back to her task, pinning so lightly Har – Tobias, this was really getting annoying – knew the robes would be too loose. Almost without thinking, he let out a short sigh of frustration.

"…security becoming more difficult to ensure…" Snape drawled on, Madame Malkin nodding fervently in assent.

"Sir?" Lavinia inquired timidly, her cheeks turning pink as well, as she spotted Tobias' new frustration.

"What's your name?" Tobias said, turning abruptly to face an even redder Katy.

"K-K-Katy, sir…"

"Katy," Tobias said as silkily as possible, as if testing the name on his tongue. "Really, the way you're going on, my robes will be loose by the time you're done," he continued, pouring exasperation into his tone as he felt Snape's sharp gaze on him.

"I – I – I'm sorry, sir, I – "

"Just do it as best as you can, then," Tobias said, turning back to face Lavinia, trying hard to work as much hauteur and boredom into the lines of his body as he could. The exaggerated reproof worked, to an extent. He spotted Katy (blushing what could now be called a fine Weasley red) devoting more attention to the task of arranging the matte black robe material on Harry-Tobias' shoulders and less to – Harry blushed again – his bum. Unfortunately, Lavinia was now eyeing his hair with an expression of avid curiosity. Tobias thought irritably that he now had ample reason to snap at her.

"What are you looking at, Miss – " His face was now naturally rearranging itself into a traditional Snape scowl as Snape looked on approvingly.

"Lavinia, sir," came the low, embarrassed answer.

"So, Lavinia," Tobias inquired, his voice all silky irritation. "Is there something wrong with my head? Birds flapping round it I've not noticed?" Madame Malkin looked up at that.

"No, sir, Mr. Snape," Lavinia muttered, uncomfortable now that her employer and the coolly amused Professor were staring at her. "I was just wondering as why your hair's so long and all. Didn't mean to bother you, sir – "

"On the contrary, I shall explain," Harry said, tipping his head to one side, a sardonic smile edging slowly onto his face. His dark green eyes flicking to Snape's amused black ones, he continued, relaxing into his most natural haughty pose. "Seeing as you're so interested…I'm past sixteen, which is the wizarding age of majority in Hungary, so technically I'm an adult." On the spur of the moment, he paused and made sure to give a now-blushing Lavinia a little once-over as his sardonic smile widened. "It also helps matters that my illustrious parents are dead, and that my aunt took a rather violent dislike to me from the start…so, here I am, and here it is," he gave a sarcastic flick of his thick hair, "all long."

Tobias saw Snape conceal a little smile as Madame Malkin's eyes bored into him again, and decided it was time to continue with the agreed 'conversation'.

"What else do we still have to get, Severu- " he began, as the two embarrassed (yet clearly intrigued) shop assistants now started to hold up samples of dressier fabrics to Tobias' face.

"As I said before, young Tobias," Severus growled, "I would much prefer that you called me…"

"Sir," Tobias cut him off, rolling his eyes a little, "I was just wondering how much else is on the list, sir." Madame Malkin's eyes followed the little exchange, as did her assistants, who paused momentarily in their little dance of fabrics and pins.

"Not a great deal, boy. Do try to be patient, will you?" Snape sneered at him. Tobias sneered back, but broke off, batting at Lavinia's hand as it approached him with a sickly green, shiny material. For a moment, he couldn't remember exactly what to say –

Colours, colours – remember the fucking colours, damn you…Oh, right – gout. Gouty.

"Dear god, no – it'll make me look like I've gout or something…'s like our dear Professor here…"

"Excuse me?" Snape's icy voice cut across the stumbling apology being delivered by Lavinia.

"Take a joke, will you…"

"A joke, boy?"

"You never wear anything but black, do you? Of course it's a joke – no, not that one either, that's revolting – "

"I fail to see what looking – ah – gouty – has to do with my wearing black, Tobias," sneered Snape, folding his arms and glaring at a now busy Tobias.

"Dear Merlin – no more green, if you please, Katy – " Tobias spat, waving away an emerald green Harry Potter would have chosen, almost on instinct, now. "Bring me – bring me creams, silvers, dark blues, for goodness' sake…" He hoped, and hoped hard that he'd said the right ones – he'd been rather useless at remembering the whole spiel of ones that Snape insisted would look better on him.

Tobias fought back an un-Snapely grin for a minute – who knew that his father, of all people, had fashion sense?

"No black, Toby?" Severus spat out the nickname like an insult.

"Don't call me that – "

"Call you what?"

"Toby, as if I'm your good little nephew – " he folded his arms, smirking now, "not unless you'd like me to call you Sevvie at school…" Tobias peered at an interestingly shimmer of something that looked like beige silk. "That looks more like it…" He prayed to Merlin it did. Sending it rudely back was a Snapeish thing to do, of course, but he'd rather not put himself through this again for a long time –

"You'll scrubbing floors with Filch for the rest of the term if it comes to that – "

"I'm sure the look on your face would be worth it, Sev," Tobias added, smiling nastily. The two dark men exchanged glowers for a long moment, before Tobias began to laugh. "The look on your face now, sir – it would be almost worth it – yes, that dark blue will actually do rather well; the one that's almost – yes…" the boy turned his attention back to the scowling Professor, "But not quite, sir. Not quite." Tobias flashed a sardonic grin at his 'uncle', relishing the hidden amusement in his eyes as he sniffed and rose.

"If you'll just send the bill by owl, Madame – come, Tobias – you've been most kind…" Tobias hopped off the fitting wheel nimbly, proceeding to kiss the flustered shop assistants' hands in farewell. "Oh leave that, you silly boy – "

"Not silly, Professor," Madame Malkin amended, pink and pleased as Tobias-Harry bestowed a stately kiss on her right hand as well. "Gentlemanly – a fine nephew you have here, Professor…"

"If you've quite finished charming everyone in the shop, Tobias," Severus dryly added as Harry came forth, producing a long roll of parchment.

"It worked, though, didn't it?" Tobias cheeked, unaware that a very Snapeish smile was on his face.

"Insufferable brat."

"Watch it – aren't I your favourite nephew?"

"You're my least favourite nephew, Po – Tobias. Now do hurry, we've got Flourish and Blott's, and Ollivander's to get through as well…"

The trip to Flourish and Blott's went even better – they ran into three Slytherin seventh years, only one of whom Har – Tobias really recognised – Pucey – something Pucey, I swear it –

They were properly respectful to Snape, as usual, and sent a now-surly Tobias – who was purposely pretending to bury himself in a fat book on restricted curses not far from them – a series of rather curious looks. They reluctantly peeled off in a minute, still eyeing the stack of books Tobias was rapidly amassing in the air beside him.

«Think that's enough yet?» Harr – Tobloodybias whispered to his father, gesturing to the pile of slightly shabby, menacing books floating to his right. Severus boggled for a moment, then gave a curt nod, cutting through the crowds with ease as he strode for the till. The clerk there boggled as well, mostly at the dodgy titles of the books he'd picked, Tobias thought, smirking unconsciously, rather than at him or his bloody backside. They were shot of Flourish soon after, and heading down the street towards Gringotts, in front of which Severus gave a few curt words of dismissal, his black eyes speaking far differently than his words – if you DARE get yourself hurt or into trouble, I'll take your body back to the Manor and finish the foolish work you began in that old bathtub, or something like it, as one never knew with his father's murderous expressions.

Then Tobias was all on his own – all on my lonesome, now – striding down past Gringotts and it's slightly charred façade, past the second-hand robe shop and almost past the over-bright storefront of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, his heart squeezing painfully as he forced himself to give the familiar face at one of the windows nothing but a diffident glance. But suddenly someone's large hand had landed on his arm, and the maddening burst of panic erased everything but the strong intent to hex the arms off of whoever was foolish enough to –

Tobias restrained himself, contenting his seething panic with only a spin and a few feeble sparks from the temporary wand as he turned to face his would-be…attacker…?

Great god, it was Fred. Fred, whose freckled, slightly sunburnt face seemed to thrust open a painful aching of things remembered, and dear Merlin I'm not even coherent, and I've got to say something or –

"Excuse me? Do I know you?" Fred's eyes widened just a touch, as he stepped back, eyeing Tobias' still-outstretched wand – I'm as tall as him – can't be-fucking-lieve it –

"Oh, I'm sorry – mistook you for someone…" Fred sputtered, the half-mischievous, half-genial look fading somewhat from his face as Tobias gave him what he honestly thought was only a nonplussed stare, but was really rather more of a glare. Tobias sighed, hiding the fact that his arms were trembling by crossing them, ignoring the bottomless satchel on his shoulder – Severus had palmed it off onto him, of course –

"My uncle, the Professor, I presume," he cut in diffidently, wand now whispering away as he fought a sneer – he'd realised he tended to do that when nervous, it was almost fucking involuntary, sometimes – "Yes, I have been told, ad infinitum, that we are alike from behind. Except," a nasty smile flitted easily to Tobias' face, he just couldn't resist this – "for the hair." Fred's eyes narrowed uncertainly, and a quick (slightly guilty) sweep of his mind told Tobias he was torn between laughing and just looking blank. "We parted company at Gringotts, if you're interested – he's somewhere in…Knocktwist Alley? Whatever the nemernic fuck it's called…" the last part was muttered lowly in a resentful manner – yet not low enough that Fred couldn't hear and be distracted from looking too closely, just in case –

"Oh – um – it's Knockturn Alley," Fred continued bravely, eyeing him up appraisingly. "You must be foreign, er…Mister…?"

"Tobias. Oh, and – yeah, foreign. Romania." Tobias gestured to the small, thriving shop nearby with a tilt of the sharp chin, cutting off any further comments from Fred – it was two-thirty, at the very least – "Fascinating display you've got over there. Good day." Tobias strode away, repressing the urge to snicker at Fred's rather obvious bewilderment, aiming for the shabby little shop of Ollivander without a (severely tempting) look back.

I can just imagine what he'd say to George – 'that crazy nutter the Greasy Git calls his cousin' –

For a minute, as he ducked carelessly into Ollivander's, Tobias wondered uncomfortably if he'd given himself away with the shop comment, but then Mr. Ollivander's grey head had poked round some corner in the dimness of the place, and the door had shut behind him almost before he was even in the room.

"Why," Ollivander said, approaching almost reverently, pale eyes bright with something that looked strangely like relief, "it is you, Mr. Potter…" He stepped out from behind a slightly tottering shelf of narrow wand boxes, approaching a rather unnerved Tobias rapidly, moon-like eyes flickering up and down and up and down – "I take it your father is in Knockturn Alley?"

What the –

"Excuse me?" Ha – Tobias demanded sharply, feeling oddly backed into a corner, even as he drew toward the spindly chair in the empty shop.

"No Glamour, Mr. Potter – it is obvious, if one knows what to watch for…" a papery old hand extended smoothly out, beckoning. "Wand, please…"

Tobias handed it over, biting back the fact that anyone could just barge in here and what the fuck would they make of Mr. Ollivander calling him Mr. Potter –

Ollivander stroked the wand meditatively, examining the scratches in its polish, spiriting another wand from nowhere – it looked awful, all odd and pulpy and –

Glowing, spidery tracks of red and gold wound their way round the rude, soft cylinder of wood, shining unearthly bright in the dim, narrow shop. Tobias leaned forward against his own inclination, for that was his wand – he could feel it in his blood, the almost poignant welcoming glow –

"Patience, young sir." Ollivander plucked an ornate, obviously hollow wand from seemingly nowhere, and yet another, much older, much more – present – article. Tobias felt his eyes widen, for that could only be the wand of Ollivander himself. "It is unfortunate that you are in need of such haste, Mr. Potter," the old man murmured, somehow inserting Tobias' pulpy mess of a wand into the ornate hollowed-out wand, "This is usually a longer, more – shall I say, customised process, and produces a far finer finished product than," he brandished the longer, rather swishy, ornate wand, "this."

"As long as it works," Tobias found himself saying, itching to get his fingers back on the thing, no matter what it looked like, his awe of the old, mysterious man standing before him no match for the craving for the feeling of warmth, of rightness his own wand seemed to give off. He was not disappointed – Ollivander handed him the new wand carefully, Banishing his temporary one as a breathless Tobias reached out and took hold.

The sting of warmth, of power, nearly made him drop it. By Merlin, it was his wand – but somehow changed, somehow sharper…Tobias gave it a gentle swish and flick, unaccustomed to the new suppleness, and nearly fell out of the spindly chair as the room seemed to fill with a pale silver shimmer as unearthly as the threads of gold and red in his pulpy old wand.

"Indeed," Ollivander breathed beside him – how did I get to my feet, anyway? – as the shimmer descended to the floor, sparkling briefly before seeming to sink into the wand boxes and the floor, into their very skin. "You are possibly the most interesting customer I have had in years, Mr. Snape…" Tobias jerked round at him, tearing his green gaze reluctantly away from the wand as he felt the odd shimmer settle into him too.

"But what about your – your money – it's so – it's such a – "

"Your debt has already been paid, Mr. Snape," Ollivander's soft tone cut easily into his rambling, accented English as he struggled to find words to explain – "Only use it wisely, and well. Your wand is now willow, holly and phoenix feather – the hollow wand is rather old, and a trifle too ornate for my tastes, but it was the best we could offer on such short notice."

"We?"

"My son and I, Mr. Snape. If I am not mistaken, it is already time for you to depart – ah, here comes your uncle." Ollivander strode to the door, where a rather unnerved Severus stood, shifting an oddly wriggling paper package in his black-clad arms. "Good afternoon, Severus."

"You are already finished," he replied, swaying uncertainly just inside the doorway. "I thought – "

"Young Martin's selection was the only one that made sense, on seeing your – ah – nephew, Professor Snape." Severus' face darkened into a scowl, but he did nothing but nod and thank the old man rather more expressively than usual, his keen eyes roving the wand Tobias still clutched possessively in his right hand. "Tell Dumbledore we accept, if you please. Good day…" And with those cryptic parting words, Ollivander had ghosted off to the tottering pile from whence he came, and Severus was hustling a wildly inquisitive Tobias out the worn shop door, into the bustling daylight of Diagon Alley.

They continued rapidly to the Leaky Cauldron in silence, Tobias trying, all the while, to stop stroking his real, newly fashioned wand.

"A most successful trip," Snape muttered his way, just before Tobias stepped up to the jar of Floo powder, scowling as he prepared to leave. "Mind you say the words loud, Tobias…"

A curt nod and a shift that blasted satchel later, Tobias was raising his voice once more, surreptitiously noting the further curious glances sent their way.

"Snape Manor!"

A/N:

Rapid review responses to all and sundry (because I'm lazy and a bit overwrought at the moment, sob):

Thanks generally to all those who reviewed – Spirit White, Danu3, duj, Danaan, kooie, Nightmare alley, Triton Bloom and jmljasmine.

Answers Ahoy!

Hope the sexual part of chapter nine wasn't too overwhelming – I thought, at first, that I'd get graphic for the hell of it, but it just doesn't fit right now. And besides, I'm a girl – what do I know about wanking lads, anyway?

'Things My Father Rants About' is so Snape – I bet if anyone spent as much time around him as Harry did, they'd know the list intimately, because he rather loops and repeats himself on certain issues even in canon i.e. Harry Is Useless, All Gryffindors Are Berks, All Slytherins Are Smarter, Dumbledore Can Be An Ass, The Dark Lord Is A Fiendish Bastard (private rant, maybe), e.t.c.

Coincidence, eh? I did okayish on the first test, haven't got back results of the second test yet. It's so weird – every time I really get a rush to write, I find myself needing to channel that rush into doing other things as well, and I haven't done that so well this test-time around, I guess.

There is no fake Harry. Remus meant a fake Tobias when he said that – he doesn't make much distinction between the two so far, I think.

Pronouncing Tobias? Er…ToBIas? Toe-BY-as? That's how I do it, at least. Dictionary, maybe? Can't be bothered right now.

I'm really, really glad you think my writing is original. That's the biggest problem with the Severitus genre, I think – not enough people really trying to do something new. I just see the whole challenge as an encouragement to think and really push the boundaries of what is believable. This fic in less competent hands, I know, would probably have been execrable – the type of thing one swears at before hitting the Back button, you know, not because the idea sucks, but because the person hasn't worked well with it. /Soliloquy Thanks, anyway.

I'm glad some people are getting here from Yahoo groups (Lord knows I spent enough times trying to sneak my fic into the conversation). About the slowness – I think I may see what you mean, like how Harry's been stuck basically in the same place all this time and so on. But I do really need to spell out what happens during this time – these are the icky periods authors seem to love skipping, the actual development, the actual training and so on, when it doesn't involve shipping or fighting with, uh, say, Draco, or something. I understand, but damn do I need to do this – I need to show how close Harry and Severus are sort of getting, as well as his relationship with Remus and Dumbledore, and make sure you know what's going on outside. I just thought it'd be interesting to really show how he gets all the OMG-SUPER-SPESHUL skills, and debunk the recurring fantasy most authors have recourse to, and just foreshadow things a bit. Try not to skip the slow bits of talking and whatnot – some of them actually give important details or things you'll need in the back of your mind at some point. Or whatever.

Jaysus, but I've gone on a roll. Sorry I haven't updated my LJ in a bit – just haven't felt up to it, to tell the truth. And this chapter was weird to hammer out in the beginning, too, so…Blame the chapter! The College Tests! NOT ME! Next chapter tentatively named: Chapter 11: Détente At Nightfall. Will include the frantic last-minute preparations of Harry and Severus. Tired. Sleepy. Off I go.