Epilogue – Eight Years Later

(Cheesy title: Dreams Come True)

Snape wandered idly through the shop, wondering just how long this was going to take. It already felt like they had been there for days, and Harry was showing no sign of wanting to leave.

Or at least he hadn't the last time Snape saw him. The shop was not overly large, but it was quite overfilled, making it difficult to keep track of people.

Just then, Snape heard Harry's voice and started toward it.

"I don't know," Harry was saying, "Do you have it in any other colours?"

Snape leaned around a tall display cabinet to see Harry running his hand over a deep red sofa.

"Yes indeed, Mr. Potter. It also comes in blue, green, and dragon leather," the salesperson informed him.

Harry made a face. "Why don't you show me what else you've got." Then he caught sight of Snape and stepped over.

"There you are," Harry said.

"Here I am," he answered and unconsciously raised a hand to Harry's cheek.

Harry leaned into the touch. "You haven't been very helpful, you know. You could pick out something." He gestured toward the couch behind him. "Do you like it?"

Snape had no interest in picking out couch fabrics or anything else, rolled his eyes to indicate as much, and wandered away again.

"Ah, Mr. Snape!" another salesperson said. The wretched shop seemed to be crawling with them. "Shopping for home furnishings? I'd heard you recently bought a house. An honor to have you in the shop, sir."

"A cottage, actually," Snape said, examining an expensive table lamp encrusted with what looked like sparkling yellowish diamonds. Were those crystallized thestral tears? It would look nice in his study, and maybe Harry would stop pestering him about not picking out anything.

"Pardon me, Mr. Snape?"

He looked up at the salesperson. "I said we bought a cottage, not a house."

"Ah, right you are. Whereabouts is it?"

"Somewhere no one will ever find it," Snape replied coldly, then pointed at the lamp. "Wrap it up."

The salesperson looked cowed. "Right then, Mr. Snape. Is there, ah, anything else I can help you with?"

Before he could answer, he heard Harry's voice again.

"Oi! Didn't I tell you no running around in here? Come back here, you little monster!"

Snape looked to his left and saw the blurred form of a seven-year-old girl streak by, closely followed by Harry. Snape moved quickly in the opposite direction—he knew if Harry spotted him, he would be charged with keeping track of her while Harry finished shopping. He may have been the holy terror of Hogwarts right up until his retirement last term, but he was notoriously reluctant to discipline his own.

After a few random circuits around the shop, Snape found himself in front of a wall completely covered with windows, each with a different set of curtains framing it. He wondered if Harry had already picked out curtains.

He surveyed the numerous variations, and one set in particular caught his eye. He was utterly transfixed and stood there staring.

"Severus! Severus, are you listening?"

He turned to see Harry behind him with their three-year-old son on his hip, holding their daughter tightly by the hand. She pulled out of his grip and ran over to Snape.

"Daddy!" she cried, wrapping her arms around his hips.

He looked down and ran his fingers through her messy black hair. "Have you been misbehaving?" he asked.

She bit her lip and shook her head 'no', but there was mischief in those hazel eyes.

He smiled. "No, I thought not."

Harry spoke up. "I think I'm about done here. Are you ready to go? It's still early—we can start looking for supplies for the new shop." The boy in his arms was tugging on his hair, but he took no notice.

"Not quite," Snape answered. They weren't opening the potions shop for another week—choosing letterheads could wait a few minutes. He stepped over to the salesperson in charge of the drapery displays, his daughter still attached to him quite firmly.

"What can I help you with, Mr. Snape?" she asked, and he pointed to the window that had captured his attention.

"I'll take that one. Have it delivered with whatever else he picked out," he instructed, gesturing toward Harry.

"That one?" Harry asked, indicating the correct window.

Snape raised an eyebrow as if to ask, 'Why, do you have a problem with it?'

"Severus, they're hideous," he said, trying to suppress a chuckle. "And so…bright. Just where were you planning to hang them?"

"In the breakfast nook, of course," he answered narrowing his eyes. "I like them."

Harry schooled his features into a serious expression. "Yes, the breakfast nook. Of course. They'll be lovely there," he said, then smiled a truly pleased smile, all trace of mockery gone.

Snape felt a tug on his hand and looked down. "I think they're pretty. Do you like oranges, Daddy? I like oranges."