'Father?' Harry asked as they finished up dinner. Severus was glad to see he had eaten most of what was on his plate.
'Yes?'
'Can we read a story tonight?'
Severus lifted an eyebrow. 'You mean, like we do every night?'
Abashed, Harry ducked his head, but nodded all the same.
'Very well,' he said as if it were a hardship, though Harry's head came up in time to see the glint of humor in his eyes. 'Go on and take a shower now, and get your pajamas on, brush your teeth. Then we'll read together for a bit.'
Harry's smile was wide, and Severus was hard put not to grin back at him like some . . . some Weasley. Instead, he inclined his head. 'Go on, now.'
The boy leapt from his seat and tore down the hallway, only slowing when Severus called, 'No running indoors!'
'Yes, Father,' came the reply.
Severus banished the dinner dishes back to the kitchens for the House Elves to deal with. Then he moved to his desk and tweaked a few lesson plans while he waited for Harry to finish his nightly ablutions. When the boy returned, freshly washed and smelling of soap, Severus let him climb into his lap while they settled in one of the armchairs. Predictably, the white kneazle followed, settling herself on Harry's lap.
Severus Accio'd the Wizard Fairytale book they had been working their way through. It had many large-type words that were hopefully familiar enough to the boy that he would recognize them, or begin to, at least, over the course of their stories. But it also had new words, longer words that Severus hoped the boy would learn, too. He had been rather taken aback when he had learned his son could barely recognize his own name when it was written, wondering how in the world the teachers of his Muggle school could have neglected his education so completely. But then, Harry was so insecure and unassuming, he would never have made a fuss at school, Severus knew, nor asserted that he was
Severus hated them all.
But, for Harry's sake, he banished those thoughts from his mind as they started a new story about a swan, once a maiden, who was turned into a harp by a Wizard.
When Harry started drooping at the end of the story, Severus carted him off to bed, then sat by his bedside watching him sleep. Treacle had curled up next to Harry's face, so that each of his breaths ruffled through the pale fur of her back legs, like a soft breeze. The boy himself had rolled into a ball, as he almost always did while sleeping, protecting his stomach, and his face, like any good prey beast. Severus sighed, his fingers itching to smooth the hair off of Harry's forehead, so he succumbed, carding through the thick, untidy locks, so like his own when he was a child.
It might take a lifetime to undo the fearful instincts the Dursleys had instilled in his son, but by Merlin, he would undo them.
He only left Harry's room once he heard the chime for a call coming through the Floo. Likely Molly, but it could be the Headmaster, meddling or being otherwise annoying.
To his relief, it was Molly.
'May I come through?' she asked when he acknowledged her presence in his fireplace.
Severus inclined his head, and she was in his sitting room moments later. He offered her tea and biscuits, she accepted, and a few minutes later, his own cup sat on the nearby table while he waited as patiently as he could for her to speak.
She took a long draught of her tea, and watched him over the brim of the tiny cup. Finally she said, 'How much do you know about how . . . those Muggles treated
