Trying to get a handle on what had happened, before talking to Molly, Severus said, "Did you play outside this afternoon?"
"Yes, Father," Harry said as he scooted up onto his seat, only then releasing Severus' hand. But he looked away while answering, and Severus didn't know why.
Rather than fret about why, he asked, "Did something happen while you were playing?" Grasping at possibilities, he ventured, "Did George try and grab you again?"
A look of relief passed over Harry's face, and Severus tried to interpret the reason, even as Harry said, "No, Father." Then the boy folded his hands in his lap and gazed down at them.
Severus pressed his lips together in a thin line. He would get to the bottom of this one way or another, but he did not wish to upset Harry any more than necessary. Instead he tapped his wand on the table so dinner would appear, and as the dishes popped into view, he said, "What's this about catching a Snitch?"
As expected, Harry's face lit up and he looked at Severus for the first time that evening. "We played tag wif 'em," he said. "I caught the most, even though I'm littlest."
"Ginevra is younger than you," Severus pointed out.
Harry scowled. "But she's still bigger. Taller, I mean."
Having hit a sore spot, apparently, Severus responded in a chiding manner. "Best eat lots of dinner, then, so you catch up." He reached toward the platter of baked filets of fish and served Harry a generous portion, then did the same with the bowl of asparagus spears and the potatoes, which had been broiled with rosemary and tarragon. "A growing boy needs plenty of sustenance. Especially if he's to be," he suppressed his own scowl, not wanting to discourage his son from something he found enjoyable, "a world famous Seeker."
Glancing at his plateful of food, Harry smiled shyly. "Thank you, Father."
"You're welcome," Severus replied. "Now, eat up."
The rest of dinner passed amicably, with Harry describing in more detail the game he had played with the other children involving Snitches, but little else about the afternoon except that he had met with Hagrid and asked about food for Treacle Tart. Severus did not press for more, figuring Harry would tell him when he was ready, or he would get the story from Molly.
Not to mention, while he listened to Harry, he was also considering what to do about the Filch problem. Severus had finished the potion that would prevent the nasty Squib from harming Harry, and would in fact bind him to the boy for a period of no less than six months. He would have administered the damned thing today, except that Albus was balking. It was unfair, the Headmaster said, for Filch to be punished so severely – beyond the removal of his arms for a month, which Albus thought had been excessive and Severus, too light of a punishment – for what had essentially been a misunderstanding.
Severus had nearly turned in his resignation right then. He had warned Albus, after all, that he would not put up with the caretaker's continued presence in the castle without there being some kind of hold on his baser behaviors. Harry had been traumatized quite enough, thank you.
But Albus promised – promised! – that he would personally monitor Filch's whereabouts and would speak to the man, again, about the fact that Harry was to be considered off limits for any interactions.
"I don't want him even looking at my son!" Severus had told him. "At all. If he is so much as in the same room as Harry, I want him removed!"
"You're over reacting, my—"
"We've been through this, Albus. You did not see that man at the Welcoming Feast. He's planning something, or if he isn't, he will take any opportunity to get back at Harry. And I. Won't. Stand. For it."
Albus had stared at him for a long time, but Severus would not back down. "I understand," he said finally, and Severus hoped he truly did.
Thus, in addition to whatever monitoring spells Albus had on the Squib, after his classes were done for the day today, Severus had added his own. They would alert him in case Filch got within a hundred feet of Harry in any direction – allowing for walls and floors, of course.
He hoped it would be enough. If not, he still had the potion.
"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 not stupid when everyone assumed he was. And that damned aunt and uncle of his obviously hadn't cared if Harry never learned a thing, so long as their own whale of a son wasn't inconvenienced or shown to be lacking.
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 Harry? Specifically, I mean."