July 1988

As much as everyone tried to hide it, the sense of coming to an end loomed unpleasantly over Number five Spinner's End and everyone, especially my father, was a little bit more sombre than usual.

But, thankfully, both of my parents made a decided effort to ensure that Draco's last day with us was a pleasant one; my mother attempted (and failed) to bake cakes and the end result was a burnt-on-the-outside, raw-on-the-inside inedible mess and a flour covered Draco. My father, sorry to see his helper go, decided to teach my godson how to use the hosepipe. It actually went surprisingly well…until Draco accidentally turned it on himself then, as he tried to drop it and run, on my father. Draco kept his head down and stayed very close to me after that.

Draco himself was delighted by all the positive attention he was receiving but I could see the worry and the fear of what was to come etched into his young features. But, like everyone else, he did his best not to let it get in the way.

I wondered, as I watched him laugh, had I done the right thing by bringing him here and allowing him to experience such…normality, for want of a better word, when the moment he stepped back into his home all the abuse and all the misery would simply start again…was it fair to present something and flaunt it, only to snatch it away?

I didn't know and I tried hard not to dwell on it. At least, for once, I could comfort myself with the knowledge that I had helped in some small way and that I had done my best.

"When will I see you next?" Draco asked as I helped him to put his things together ready for tomorrow. "When are you coming to the manor?"

"I don't know," I said after a long pause, in which socks were paired and a shirt was folded. "The school holidays are infrequent…"

Draco's forehead creased, not liking where this was going at all. "How infrequent?" came the almost imperious demand. He sounded like his father. Frighteningly so.

I looked at the thin little eight-year old, who stared back at me with fierce, determined grey eyes, flared nostrils and slightly pouting mouth. He would not stop questioning, I knew, until he had at least some idea of when I would be able to visit and he had my solemn promise that I would see him the second I got the chance.

"How infrequent?" Draco asked again, more urgently.

"I have quite long periods of free time at Christmas and during the summer," I replied carefully. "I have one week during Easter and I am sure that I can negotiate a few weekends here and there."

Draco scowled heavily and threw the rest of his clothes carelessly into the bag; crumpled and unfolded. It took every ounce of self-control not to repack everything again…

"But you will write to me, won't you?" said Draco, peering up at me anxiously. "Promise you won't forget! Promise Sir!"

"Why would I forget?" I asked waspishly, more than a little irked; Draco's lack of faith in me never ceased to astound…

"You'll be busy," my godson replied in a tone which suggested I was being purposefully dim-witted. "You'll be working, won't you? Which is why you won't be able to visit so much, isn't it? But you have to promise to write lots! I-I'll write back again!"

I couldn't help but smile at Draco's sincerity and the fierceness in his voice. It seemed that I was silent for too long, however, as the boy sighed dejectedly and sat back on his heels- convinced that my silence meant the worst.

"Draco, you fool!" He glared up at me from behind a curtain of white-blonde hair, then squeaked loudly as I leaned over and tugged him towards me. "Of course I'll write! I promise. Do you understand that?"

Draco wiggled and mumbled something.

I tickled him mercilessly. "What was that?"

"YES!" he shrieked, tugging at my hands and giggling hysterically. "Okay okay! Stop it! Sir!!"

One of his flailing limbs lashed out suddenly and hit me squarely on the nose. Momentarily stunned, I let go and Draco scrambled, panting and laughing, out of my reach. Then, as quickly as his sparkle had appeared, it immediately vanished again and was replaced with wide-eyed fright. A small hand flew to his mouth. "Sorry sorry…"

"Hmm?"

Draco waved a finger vaguely in my direction, his distress such that only one word was able to escape from his lips. "Blood…"

I touched my stinging nose gingerly and, sure enough, a small amount of a sticky red substance came away on my fingers. I winced- more aware of the pain now that the damage had been brought to my attention.

"Excuse me." Pinching the bridge of my nose and tilting my head back, I rose awkwardly and walked at a brisk pace across the landing. Draco followed uncertainly, keeping several paces behind

'And now he's scared again,' I thought bitterly as I held a wad of damp tissues up to my nose. Things can never just be simple, can they?'

Secretly, (so secret, in fact, I didn't even admit it myself) I was looking forward to having some time when I wouldn't have to be constantly worrying about doing or saying something that would cause a panic or when the only person I had to care about was myself.

Luckily, Draco was not especially strong so the hit had not been as hard as it could've been and the bleeding stopped in less than a minute. Throwing the bloodied tissue into the toilet, I smiled reassuringly at Draco, who regarded me with obvious wariness.

"See?" I said softly, "No harm done."

My godson's eyebrow twitched disbelievingly. "I made you bleed. Harm was done 'cause you was hurt."

I fought hard against the urge to roll my eyes; Draco always had to take things so literally! But I suppose it another defence mechanism more than anything else- you stand more of a chance doing the right thing if you take things literally than if you don't. Generally speaking, of course. It wsn't always the case.

"But it doesn't hurt anymore, the bleeding has stopped and," I went on quickly as Draco opened his mouth to argue. "And it was an accident. You didn't do it on purpose, did you?"

Sullenly, he shook his head and scuffed the toes of his shoes loudly on the carpet.

"Precisely," I concluded, smirking with triumph. "Therefore, no harm done."

"So…" Draco edged slowly forward, his eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion . "So, you aren't cross with me?"

"Does it look like I am?"

"No…" his lips twitched slightly into the beginning of a smile.

"Do you want me to be?"

"No!" The amused twinkle had returned to his eyes.

Raising my chin and looking him directly in the eyes, I stepped slowly, deliberately over to him in a way so similar to Lucius that I saw Draco flinch ever so slightly as I drew closer. Then, I leant down and whispered in his ear, "Then I'm not."

Not knowing whether he should be angry at my cruel joke or relieved that he wasn't in trouble, Draco made a noise halfway between and shriek and a laugh and flung his skinny arms tightly around my neck.

"Sir!" he whined as I struggled to lift him. It wasn't that he was particularly heavy, I simply wasn't prepared for having a small boy around my neck. "Don't do that!"

"Don't do what?" After a small amount of adjusting and readjusting, I eventually got a decent grip on him.

Draco wiggled in my arms, trying to get comfortable. "That," he repeated as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Acting like Father. Pretending you're going to…do what he does."

I sighed deeply and, finally, voiced what had been bothering me so much. "You really don't trust me, do you?"

The sudden seriousness of my question made the grin fade from Draco's lips and the smile disappear from his eyes. "It isn't that," he whispered, fingers playing absently with my hair so that he didn't have to look directly at me.

"Then what?" I pressed, desperate to understand. "What is it? Why are you still so afraid of me?"

I felt Draco tense and then, softly, "I-I don't know. I can't help it…" the little boy grimaced; hating the fact that he couldn't explain exactly what he meant. "I know that you would never do what Dr Southard did or act like Father does but…" he licked his lips, unsure whether he wanted to continue.

"But?" I urged.

"But I can't help thinking, what if?" Draco turned his head slowly, expression fiercely intense as he tried to convey both to me and also to himself precisely what was going on in his troubled mind. "What would I do if you did?" he continued. "Who would help me then? Where would I be able to run to?"

Draco sighed and leaned down to rest his head against my shoulder. "And I don't know the answer to any of those questions! I know that you wouldn't, but in the back of my mind…I know that you could if you wanted to. I don't like that, Sir, it scares me."

"But as long as you know that I wouldn't," I touched his cheek lightly with the back of my hand. "As long as you know that I'm on your side, you don't have to worry about me. We're okay aren't we, you and me?"

Showing several gaps in his teeth, Draco grinned and hugged my neck. "Yeah, we're great."

Then suddenly, another thought struck me violently about the head. "Draco?"

"Yes Sir?"

"Why do you still call me 'Sir'? I'm not your tutor anymore, you don't have to call me that."

Draco frowned very deeply. "But…but that's what you're called!"

"Draco, you know perfectly well what my name is-"

"Yes yes, I know," said Draco impatiently. "But that's what I call you. I wouldn't call anyone else 'Sir' because that's you. Besides," he smirked. "Your name's silly."

"And your name isn't?" I retorted coolly, resisting the overwhelming temptation to drop him.

"My name means 'Dragon'," Draco reminded me haughtily. "Anyway, 'Sir' suits you. It wouldn't be right to call you anything else."

I humphed, still annoyed about his jibe at my name. "What did you call Dr Southard, then?"

Draco winced and lowered his eyes uncomfortably. "I didn't call him anything," he answered softly. "I didn't speak to him unless he spoke to me first."

"And what about when you go away to school? What will you call your teachers then?"

"Professor!" stated Draco happily. "Besides, I called you 'Sir' before you was-"

"Were," I corrected.

"Were. I called you 'Sir' before you were my tutor, didn't I? So it hasn't anything to do with that. Why do you suddenly mind when you never did before?"

I shrugged- a surprisingly difficult action when holding an eight-year old. "I don't care. It just struck me as odd. I don't care what you call me. Anyway," I set him back down on the ground. "We had better go and finish sorting out your things before tomorrow.

Draco's eyes glittered with Malfoy brazenness and said impudently as he skipped down the hall, "Yes Mr Snape."

A/N: Please excuse the shortness of this chaoter, but I'm going to France for 2 weeks and I wanted to update before that :D

Btw, if your looking for 'Dear Santa' (one of my fics) a prick called Lewis Lang hacked into my account and deleted it...I guess he could have done a lot more damge but still...

Hope everyone has a good summer!

Love Lily xxx