The usual disclaimers apply.

xx

Severus Snape knew that he carried a debt. He was indebted to Albus Dumbledore. He also knew that the Headmaster did not actually think that Severus was indebted to him but Severus knew better. Albus Dumbledore had kept him out of Azkaban and had given him a job, a perspective, a new home, a second chance. Severus Snape was willing to do an awful lot to pay him back.

But this – this outrage – was too much. It wasn't so much the fact that there was a room, that could only be added if the castle wanted it to be added, but the fact how the interior of the room was done. There was a scenery on the walls – trees, flowers, a meadow, sunshine and if Snape saw correctly, a house elf hiding in tall grass. A grassy-green floor. A blue ceiling with clouds rushing by. A four poster bed with a canopy in white. It looked like he had fallen into a disgustingly happy-sunshine-meadow scenery. There were at least books and toys on shelves on the walls but the shelves (and the cupboards and the bedside cabinet) looked like tree branches and even petered out into the room. And there, in the corner was a flowerbed full of daisies. And next to it, a blue corner complete with easel and painting things.

"Oh Merlin," he grumbled hoarsely.

"'fesser Snape?" asked the boy, tugging on his sleeve again and Severus made a mental note to explain to the fiend that he heard quite well, wasn't yet in his dotage and would be able to give his attention with a simple 'Professer Snape', so that the incessant tugging on the sleeves could stop.

"What is it?" he asked, his mind still on overload what the Headmaster had done with a simple, albeit large room.

"Whose room is that?" he asked in a small voice.

"It's yours," he said grumblingly and the boy immediately shook his head. "It's not mine, sir. I've never seen it before."

"Are you being an idiot on purpose?" he snapped and the boy looked at him with his bright green eyes again and after a moment's hesitation, merely shook his head.

"That was a figure of speech, Mr Potter," he explained sharply. "This is your room now, I suppose."

"I don't have a room, sir."

"I'll take back what I said about the figure of speech," he mumbled. "You do now," he said clearly. "You did want to stay here for the time being, did you not?"

Again, the boy nodded. "But any cupboard would do. The couch would be fantastic but I don't mind where I..." the boy could not finish his sentence. It had gone on too long now. Severus swooped down, his nose almost touching the boys and his hands, hard on the child's upper arms.

"Listen to me very closely, Mr Potter," he said with a deadly calm that he did not feel at all, and the boy nodded fearfully, "while you are staying here with me, you will not sleep in any cupboard or on the couch. The castle was right in adding a room for you but this outrageous interior decorating..."

"It's beautiful," the boy interrupted, whispering. "It feels like I'm sleeping outside without all the bugs crawling up on me."

Severus was struck dumb. Again. Beautiful? It was horrid. Or maybe – well – for a boy...Poppy Pomfrey's words echoed in his head. Over and over again.

"Well then go and explore it," he said gruffly, standing upright again. "But it's not mine, sir," the boy protested.

"It is now," Snape was close to losing his temper. No child should be that idiotic. Maybe if he had it in writing. Yes. If he had it in writing that this was his room, he would see that this was, for the time being, his room and would finally begin to explore it so he could enjoy at least a moment's peace. He raised his wand to the open door and on the outside, as well as the inside, dark green letters appeared.

"'fesser Snape, why is my name on the door?" the boy asked and Severus groaned. Too stupid even for that?

"Because this is your room. Now be quiet and explore it," he commanded and left the wide-eyed, staring, gasping child standing there. He counted slowly in his head. This silence would not last very long and true to what he had thought, he had not even managed to reach 30 in his head when there was a rather girlish shriek and yelp from where the boy still stood in the open door and the child began to race in circles around in the room instead of quietly looking around. Of course he would run circles. And in a mere matter of minutes, the boy would come running and asking questions again.

But...

The boy was seven. 7. Poppy had made a point. A very legitimate point at that. He would have probably acted the same way. If someone had...

Rubbish. It made no sense to think about this, he knew. He now had the task to find a family, to make sure the boy grew up in a safe, happy environment and to ensure that he was properly instructed once the time came for his fight against the Dark Lord. And thinking about his own childhood would not help at all.

And so – instead – he summoned a parchment, a quill and ink and sat down on the table and just as he was about to write the first name down on the parchment, there was a knock on the door.

xx

This was the most beautiful room in the entire world. It was double the size of Dudley's two rooms and it almost looked as if he was outside on a beautiful meadow. It was fantastic. Truly, wonderfully fantastic. Awesome. Cool. He couldn't help the tiny little shout of joy that escaped him and he only, for the moment, could only run around in this wonderful beautiful room. It was his!

His name was on the door! On both sides! 'fesser Snape had made sure that he understood that this was his room and made it real that this was his room and had put his name there. In a lovely, lovely green colour. Harry Potter. On both sides of the door. It was only a blur since he did run around in circles in his new room which was beautiful but he always made sure to look at it for half a second before his eyes fell on something else. If Dudley could see it, he'd be green with envy. Greener than the floor and greener than the letters 'fesser Snape had spelled his name in.

Oh, he couldn't stop running around. He couldn't believe his luck. He had his very first, own room. And his own bed. And books. There were so many books! And something to paint with and toys and books and a bed and a wonderful lovely room.

Harry Potter – for the first time since he had flown his baby-broom approximately 6 years ago, felt utterly ecstatic.

xx

Severus groaned but put the quill down and opened the door to a smirking, evil Gryffindor.

"Well, Severus?" Minerva asked. "Albus asked me to come down and see if he was in mortal danger."

He huffed but let the older woman in. "He might be."

"Ah well," Minerva chuckled. "He thought so when he told the house elves specifically what to do and even made a sketch for them."

"Did you see it? It's so..."

"Not dark?" she offered, grinning. "I may have seen it, yes. He's a boy though. But...what is he doing?" she asked, peeking through the open door into the room. "And Albus has seriously overdone the floor. Green? And so grass-like. You can be glad that I kept him from turning this room red and gold. Seriously, what is he doing?"

"He's running around in circles," he replied off-handedly. "And has been for the past ten minutes."

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"I assume because he is happy that he has a room of his own. A bed of his own. And does not have to sleep in a cupboard," he replied coldly.

"C-c-cupboard?"

"Ah yes, I forgot," Severus sneered, "you were all gone yesterday so I had no chance of telling you under what circumstances the boy-who-lived lived."

"Cupboard, Severus?"

"Cupboard, Minerva. He was kept in the cupboard under the stairs. All his belongings fit into his book bag which might, as far as I know, still be up in your husband's office. Didn't you see his face at breakfast? He's had the first decent meal in I don't know how long and now he's ecstatic and running around because he has the world's-most-outrageous-room." He felt his temper rising.

And Minerva's was – well – too. "I told him. I told him so often that nothing good would come of this. Told him those people were no good. But would he listen? Merlin no."

"You're his wife," Severus sneered, "You ought to be able to have a modicum of control over him."

"Don't you start on me now, Severus Snape. You know what Albus is like when he thinks he knows best," she huffed, her gaze wandering back into the new room, "Why is he still running like that?"

"He still assume he is happy."

"Sorry, you were explaining the circumstances under which he lived," she said contritely.

"Yes, I was," he smirked.

Minerva waited but Severus liked riling her up. And it was so simple with her quick Gryffindor temper. He did not say anything and she grew steadily impatiently, tapping her foot on the floor. "Well?" she asked finally.

Severus sighed dramatically, "There's not much to tell. They let him sleep in a cupboard, he was barely accepted there. His cousin loved using him as a punching bag and of course Petunia Evans is..."

"Poor Harry. Can't you tell him to stop running?" she said, "it's irritating."

"You try it," he smirked.

"Mr Potter!" she bellowed and the boy stood suddenly very still, staring at them.

"Stop that infernal running, Mr Potter and explore the room like a well- behaved young man," she added sternly but the boy did not listen at all. Instead, he bounced towards them and observed Minerva and him quizzically.

"Why do you call me Mr Potter?" he asked, "I'm Harry."

"Your name is Harry Potter, is it not? Severus asked mockingly and of course, immediately, felt Minerva's elbow connect with his ribs and her glare on him.

"If you like you can call me Minerva," she said gently to the boy and once more, her elbow, or what felt like her elbow, connected with his ribs.

The boy grinned broadly and nodded. "Can you call me Harry then?"

"Yes, I will, Harry," Minerva chuckled. "Do you like your new room, Harry?"

"It's awesome!"

Minerva laughed for a moment before she directed her glare at Snape again. "Severus," she hissed.

"What?"

She glared at him, then nudged her head towards the boy who still stood there but Snape said nothing. He certainly would not let the boy call him Severus.

xx

Minerva seemed nice. She didn't look so stern as she had in the morning but he really wanted only one thing. Grab the 'fesser's hand and ask him about all the books in his room. And ask him which he should read first. And...

"'fesser Snape, where did the room come from? Who put it there? It wasn't here this morning. And where did the books come from? Which should I read first? Can you tell me please? Minerva, did you see how beautiful my new room is? And 'fesser Snape made sure that it is my room and put the letters on the door. Did you see them? I like that green. I love the room," he sighed contentedly and when his eyes fell on the two grown-ups again, he didn't quite understand why Minerva was grinning and the 'fesser looked so grumpy.

"'fesser, will you show me what book to read first, please?" he decided on the direct approach and reached out to take his hand and pulled him up.

Harry knew that he was not the strongest boy in the world but surprisingly, the 'fesser followed him immediately and the woman was right behind them.

"Harry?" she asked gently and he turned around with a smile, first at the still grumpy looking 'fesser Snape, then at her.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"You are aware, 'fesser Snape did tell you that you are a wizard yourself," she asked and Harry stopped immediately.

A wizard? Himself. No that couldn't be. 'fesser Snape was a wizard. And that Madam Pomfrey had been a witch and maybe this Minerva was a witch too and the Headmaster, but he certainly wasn't.

'Nu-uh," he said muffled and he didn't quite catch what 'fesser Snape said to Minerva but it sounded rather angry. He looked up at them and said, "I'm not wizard. I'm just Harry."

"Thank you, Deputy Headmistress," said 'fesser Snape angrily.

Harry was seized by cold panic. If they thought that he was a wizard and he wasn't – he would be sent back. Immediately. And he didn't want to leave this beautiful awesome room. Not at all. Never in his life. It was just perfect, right next to 'fesser Snape's bedroom and close to the bathroom and it was just soooo beautiful. And now, if they realised that he wasn't a wizard...

"Don't send me back again, please," he whispered urgently. "I can clean or cook or anything, please." He still held on tightly to 'fesser Snape's hand even though he had the feeling he already wanted to shake him off and he could see very clearly that that Minerva glared at him and pushed her elbow into his side. 'fesser Snape even groaned and Harry thought that now they had realised their mistake and that the woman had made it clear to 'fesser Snape that it was his job to throw him out.

"Mr Potter," he began and Harry could not help it.

"Harry," he muttered sadly.

Another groan came from 'fesser Snape. "Harry," he swooped down again until their noses were almost touching again like before but now, the 'fesser still held his hand, "you can read, can you not?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"Then read, please, what is written on this door."

"Harry Potter, sir," he read meekly, "but I'm no..."

"And why, if people and elves, go to such length creating this room for you, should we send you away again?"

"Because I'm no wizard, sir."

"Harry, you are a wizard," Minerva said gently but 'fesser Snape pushed her back and actually knelt on the floor to look into his eyes.

"Have you or have you not appeared on the roof of the school without knowing how you got there?" he asked very calmly and very gently. At least it sounded like this to Harry and he nodded.

"Have you or have you not made a book fly towards your cousin?" Again, he nodded.

"Does you brain understand that this might not be coincidental?" He shook his head, didn't quite understand the question.

"Harry Potter, you're a wizard," Minerva said again and 'fesser Snape turned around, glaring.

"Minerva," he said and his voice changed immediately. It sounded still calm but deadly calm. Not nicely calm.

"Have you or have you not wondered why your bag was so light when I brought you here?"

"I have," Harry whispered.

"Have you considered that this might be magic?" he asked, and lay heavy emphasis on the last word.

"Uncle Vernon always said..." Harry tried to say but was silenced by 'fesser Snape's outraged groan.

"Harry," Minerva tried again and actually managed to kneel on the floor next to 'fesser Snape, "you did magic all this time. But when children do it, it is usually accidental..."

"Minerva," 'fesser Snape hissed again. "You go ahead then," she said tightly. "Mr Potter..."

"Harry."

"Harry, you cannot yet control your magic. But just trust my word that you are a wizard," 'fesser Snape said softly.

Harry's head was whirring. He was a wizard? Like them? And that was why he had done all those inexplicable things. He was no freak, he wasn't weird, he was a wizard. Oh he would make sure Dudley got a pig's snout when he could control his magic. Or maybe a little pig's tail. Or the colour of a pig. Or something else. He would think about it. And then when he could do it like those two, he would go back and do it. His face broke out in a wide grin.

"Really?"

"Do we have to start that again?" 'fesser Snape asked with a nice roll of his eyes and Harry understood that he was only joking and shook his head immediately and because the 'fesser had not protested before and because Harry had seen this happening, he pulled together all the courage he felt and since the 'fesser was already kneeling and still held his hand, he only rushed forward and wrapped his arms around 'fesser Snape's neck, hugging him.

xx

He heard Minerva chuckle faintly as the boy kept his ears closed by his tiny arms and this strangling that seemed to be a speciality of his. He saw from the corner of his eye that the Deputy Headmistress was getting up and moving away but he couldn't follow her with his eyes since the boy still held on tightly to him.

"Yes, it's fine, Mr Potter," he said, keeping his arms as far in the air as possible.

"Harry," he whispered quietly.

Impudence. Interrupting him every time. Oh but he would get his revenge on the boy. Oh most certainly. Hadn't he wanted to know which book to read first? He would find one.

"Yes, fine. I believe you asked me what book to read first?" he asked dangerously low and it worked, the boy disentangled himself from his neck immediately and nodded enthusiastically. That enthusiasm would soon go, Snape knew as he stepped into the room (and the floor even felt like grass underneath the soles of his shoes) and browsed through the amounts of books that Albus had put there. Too much for a child.

But yes, the Headmaster did not disappoint and Severus pulled out a volume. Slim, yes, but it would keep the boy occupied.

"Here," he said and shoved the book into the boy's hands. Severus wished though that he had not looked into the child's face. He stared in wonder, in absolute gratitude and happiness at the one simple book, reached out with his finger and traced the lettering on the front as he read aloud.

"A Guide to Potions."

xx