"Spend Christmas with us, Snape." Potter invited.
"You haven't lived until you met my grandson." Lucius boasted.
"We know what you did for us, professor." Granger. Weasley.
Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
All because they thought they knew him.
Because they 'understood' him now.
He put on his long red cloak with white fur trim and matching hat. The bag of presents onto his shoulder. He'd already gone grey, his hair long enough. His beard would make Dumbledore jealous.
His Patronus would play reindeer.
He had money now; a Ministry pension besides his Headmaster salary.
But what good was money that was just clutter in his Gringotts account anyway? He would never have said that growing up dirt-poor; but back then he did not have enough money for basic necessities; it was all about scrimping and scraping. He hated to see it now. Not when he could do something about it.
Potter defeated the Dark Lord; but what about basic human decency, or the simple desire to make a child smile? Or were his own enough for him?
He dashed the lights at Spinner's End.
If the Dark Lord taught him anything, it was not to neglect the orphans.