Severus, much to his infinite annoyance, was made to sit and wait in the lobby, alone with his lollipop, while his mother and the healer discussed 'sensitive matters' behind closed doors.

It was his life they were talking about. Surely, he was owed the right to listen in.

His legs were still too short, swinging freely as he sucked on his lollipop and idly flipped through some gossip rag or another. He usually had more patience than this.

Wait.

He closed the magazine and searched the front cover. It was the Spring of 1969 edition. There was no guarantee that it was the newest edition, but it did help narrow things down.

It was the spring of 1969 at the earliest, and January of 1971 at the latest.

He had met Lily for the first time in the summer of 1969.

There was a chance that they were already friends, but it was not a guarantee.

If it was the spring or early summer of 1969, that meant Severus would have to go through the motions of meeting her all over again.

Maybe.

If he was still here by then.

…If he remembered when he was supposed to meet her.

It had been a sunny day, hot. Petunia had been with her. She had been wearing a sundress? …Yellow, maybe? He'd never paid much attention to people's clothing.

Severus didn't remember. The days of summer had all bled together, when he was a child. He didn't even remember which month it had been.

How many times had they hung out together, before heading back to their muggle primary school as friends?

Had it been once per week? Every day?

He didn't know.

It felt like a betrayal to have forgotten.

Still, even if everything went well, and he picked the right day and time to introduce herself, Lily was nine.

Was Severus capable of relating to a nine-year-old child for long enough to cement their friendship?

He would certainly not develop a crush at first sight, this time around.

The mere thought made him feel dirty.

"You into fashion, little guy?" someone asked from Severus' left, making him jump.

He hated having a blindside.

"What?" he asked, finally realizing that the young woman sitting a few seats over was talking to him.

The woman laughed, soft and gentle.

"Witch Weekly. You've been staring at those dress robes for ten minutes, now."

Severus doubted that very much. It had probably only been two or three. Still…

He glanced back down at the magazine cover, for the first time taking in the young celebrity couple deliberately not-posing for the cameras.

"Sorry," Severus said. "Did you want to read this?"

The young woman grinned. "That's kind of you. I would indeed, if you're finished with it."

"I… am. Is this… do you know if this is the newest issue?" Severus asked, deciding it would be acceptable to make himself appear dimwitted to this total stranger, if it kept him from making an even bigger fool of himself later, when he had no idea what year it was, or his own age.

"Let's see, yup! Spring 1969, see? Summer one won't be out for another week or two, I reckon."

"Right. Thanks," Severus said, smiling weakly.

The woman looked around the lobby. "Are you here to see about your eye? Or is your mommy or daddy in with the healer?"

Severus struggled to keep his face blank and polite. "My mother is in with the healer. I've already been seen about my eye."

The woman giggled. "My mistake. You're very grown up, aren't you?"

"I have my moments," Severus drawled, oddly happy that his sarcasm elicited more warm smiling from the stranger next to him.

He liked being intimidating. He liked being feared. But, he liked being appreciated for his humor, too.

It had been a long time since anyone had smiled at him like that.

He smiled back.

Severus kept himself busy by testing how far to the left he could see, with only one eye. He would have to get used to physically turning his head to make sure he stayed safe.

His mother's meeting with the healer was taking forever.

He started counting stains on the ceiling.

Most of them appeared to be water damage or dirt, but a few appeared to be dried, flaking blood, which was disconcerting to say the least. Didn't St. Mungos have their own house elves?

"Come along, Severus," Eileen said, breaking his concentration, and his count.

Hopping off of the chair in as dignified a way as possible, Severus waved goodbye to the young woman who was now engrossed in some article written in the Witch Weekly magazine, and followed his mother out of the lobby.

"What did the healer have to say?" Severus asked, impatiently, as he trotted after his mother with short, child's legs.

"Not here," Eileen said, grabbing his wrist. "I need to get supper ready before your father gets home."

Severus wanted to argue that she could walk and talk, but he supposed it wasn't worth the fight.

They apparated from the alley behind St. Mungos to a secluded park a few streets away from home, with Severus struggling to keep up as is mother walked briskly down the sidewalk. She was already listing off the things she'd need to get out and chop up for the stew she was planning to make.

"Do you want me to help with the chopping?" Severus asked. "Or the stirring?"

He couldn't remember at what age his mother had started trusting him to use the big kitchen cleaver. Surely nine was old enough to handle simple cooking, if eleven-year-olds were expected to brew their own potions, right?

Severus felt inordinately clumsy, but surely that was mostly due to his muscle memory being adapted to the 6'3" body of an adult man.

"We'll see," Eileen said, distractedly. "You should probably take a nap first. The healer said you had a fever when we came in, and your body is using some of your magic to fight whatever's in your eye."

Severus had to admit that he was feeling rather exhausted.

"Will my eye be okay?" he asked, sounding more scared than he wanted to admit. His life had been hard enough the first time around, without being physically disfigured and disabled.

Potter and Black would have a field day with him if this was a permanent ailment. His lip curled into a sneer just thinking about the kinds of things those bullies would do to him, with such a weakness.

"You'll be fine, Sev," Eileen said, the endearing nickname doing little to mask the impatience and nervousness in her voice.

"But what if…" Severus started to ask, as he pushed their front door open.

He and his mother both froze, his blood running cold.

Tobias Snape had come home early.