24 Dec 1991
The Winter Ball at Malfoy Manor was considered one of the biggest, most looked forward to events in the wizarding world. Wizards and witches all over the world anticipated receiving the invitations that were on the finest produced onionskin that was elegantly decorated with edges of burnt silver, and written with gold ink, that was real gold.
However, only two hundred of the invitations were ever sent.
The magnificent ballroom, in the older part of Malfoy Manor, glittered itself, and glittered from the guests. A full orchestra of witches and wizards, provided the music. Opposite the orchestra pit was a sumptuous buffet for the guests that also included a beautiful ice sculpture of Narcissa's favourite goddess, Circe. Dancing couples occupied the middle of the ballroom, while other guests either sat upon velvet covered chairs, or lounges, or mingled with other guests to chat, and to enjoy the many wines and champagnes that were also provided.
Both Hermione and Harry, standing with their parents at the top of the grand staircase, felt overwhelmed by the scene below them. Harry was already gripping his father's hand tightly, when Hermione's hand slipped into his other one. Draco, who had not been old enough to attend the Winter Ball, stood proudly beside his father. Narcissa stood on her son's other side with Hermione next to her.
As the guests realised that their host and hostess had arrived, the orchestra stopped playing, and the gentle sussuration of discourse became hushed. All eyes turned to the top of the staircase and Harry took one step back, and bumped against his father's legs. Snape let go of his son's hand, and placed his hands upon Harry's shoulders, making his son feel a bit more secure.
Lucius stepped forward and held out his arms in welcome. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Winter Ball." A smattering of polite applause greeted the Malfoys. Lucius nodded in acquiescence. "This year, all of my family are old enough to attend the Ball, and I would like to present them to you." Lucius held out a hand towards Draco, who was nudged a step forward by his mother. "My son, and heir, Draco."
Draco smiled, a charming smile nearly the mirror of his father's own, public smile. He then bowed to the applause and moved to his father's right side.
"I now wish to introduce our dear daughter," Hermione stepped nervously forward. "Hermione Iris Malfoy."
As she had been instructed earlier, Hermione curtseyed to more applause. Lucius then took his wife by the hand, and led his family down the grand staircase. Snape, Harry, Draco, and Hermione followed behind.
Harry, Draco, and Hermione were fortunate to find other children, most attendees of Hogwarts, to busy themselves with. The Winter Ball itself was fascinating, but once Lucius and Narcissa had introduced their children to certain people, they were allowed to go off with their counterparts to enjoy a smaller, more raucous party.
Snape, for once, found himself wishing he were a first year so that he could escape, not the ball, but Narcissa, with Harry and the others. He waited, awkwardly, near the large, ornate fireplace, a brandy in one hand.
Ordered by both the adult Malfoys that he dare not wear all black, the Potions Master made a concession in wearing formal robes of forest green over a very dark, grey suit. The suit coat was a fitted Victorian frock coat with the high collar he preferred. The only ornamentation was a pocket watch with a gold fob that stretched from pocket to pocket, and dangled across his slim abdomen. He was oblivious to the looks of interest he was getting from many of the single witches in the crowd.
After she had made her social rounds, which hadn't taken as long as Snape had hoped, Narcissa had cornered him. She had then taken a gilded Dancing Card from a hidden pocket in the skirts of her gown, slipped her arm over his elbow, and moved closer to show him names neatly quilled onto the card.
"Your first dance of the evening is Alexandra Wimpoole," exclaimed Narcissa warming up to her favourite subject. She nodded towards a woman whose dark brown hair had been done up rather too high on her head. Snape scowled. Narcissa smiled. "Well, her fashion is a bit out of date, but Alexandra is quite intelligent." Snape added a sneer to his scowl.
"You'll adore her!" admonished Narcissa with a condescending smile that threatened to ignore Snape's displeasure all evening. "Next will be Tianna del Suego, the daughter of the Spanish ambassador. Narcissa subtly pointed out a dark-eyed, dark-haired beauty. For a moment Snape was a tiny bit caught by the young lady's beauty, but then she turned, and gave him a very disapproving glance. Narcissa caught the insulting look, and with a wave of her hand, Tianna's name was gone. "Well, that means..."
Snape was quickly, and as politely as possible, extricating his arm from Narcissa's. The beautiful, blonde witch, looked up at Snape. "Severus, what are you...? Where are you going?"
Snape paused, and bowed his head stiffly to Lucius' wife. "I know I should have said something earlier, Narcissa, but I invited... a friend. Would you make my apologies to all of those young ladies?"
"I... well..." Narcissa huffed and scowled daintily. "Really, Severus..." It was useless to say anything else since the dark man was cutting a smooth swath through minglers, and dancers, towards the huge, arched entrance to the ballroom. Looking away from the departing wizard, Narcissa's interested gaze went to the witch standing, shyly, within the entrance.
Narcissa assessed the witch who was rather lovely despite the white strands that gave her golden blonde hair a silvered touch. The witch, who seemed somehow familiar wore a soft grey kirtle of velvet over a forest green chemise of silk that peeked out from split panels on the front, back, and sides of the kirtle. The bodice, tightly laced up the front, was heavily embroidered using peacock thread of silk in a design of Celtic knots. Although a lovely gown, it was a common one. Still, Narcissa had to admit that the gown suited the witch. However, the witch wore her hair, of white and gold, in a cascade of gentle waves to her waist with no sort of pins, or style, other than it had probably been brushed to its glossy sheen. Narcissa bowed to the more restrained, witchly fashion, that called for stylish restraint to a woman's long hair, and she could not help the delicate sniff at the witch's apparent immodesty.
As the lovely woman's eyes caught Snape's gaze, Narcissa suddenly realised who the beauty was, and she was speechless. Another voice behind her, spoke instead.
"I would never have guessed that beneath those starched medical robes, and tight bun there existed a flower waiting to bloom," commented Lucius quietly in his wife's ear.
"Madame Pomfrey!" Narcissa gasped softly in wonder. "But, she appears so much older, Lucius."
"Severus informed me that he assisted the young Poppy when he himself was still a student with a very sophisticated Glamour that aged the witch by ten years, and then aged with her."
Narcissa nodded in appreciation. "How ingenious."
Lucius leaned forward to kiss his wife's cheek. Both husband and wife then watched as Severus Snape escorted Poppy Pomfrey from her solitude beneath the arch, and proceeded to lead her onto the dance floor.
Poppy Pomfrey had rarely gone to any sort of a dance, much less the Winter Ball at Malfoy Manor. Her patients had always come first, and although Hogwarts was lacking in patients over the holidays, she often volunteered at St. Mungo's.
Needless to say, it had been a simple thing to decline the Potions Master's invitation, but Snape was persistent. Especially since he was begging the favour of a friend to thwart the match-making machinations of Narcissa Malfoy.
Just before the holidays, Snape had made one, last, humble entreaty to Poppy's sense of helping others. Poppy had simply smiled, patted his arm, and told him with her own sort of gentle smirk, that she would help him.
Snape had been quietly anticipating the shock of his 'date' all that evening at the Winter Ball. He had not expected to receive his own shock when he'd finally pushed through all the guests to behold his friend.
Like nearly everyone, Snape had only ever seen Poppy in her medi-witch's uniform. Starched blue gown of a simple cut, and an apron of purest white; both infused with spells that dealt with the grosser aspects of an Infirmary visited by sick children. He had become accustomed to the Glamour she never removed that gave her an extra ten years. He saw now that such a magical affectation was no longer needed.
It literally took his breath away when he beheld a very different looking, and quite beautiful woman standing beneath the great entrance arch.
Poppy's generally severe, and business-like looks tended to make her appear older than she was. Few realised that Poppy had begun her duties at Hogwarts Infirmary as an apprentice the very same year that Snape had arrived as a first year student. She was just eighteen, and only a year away from having been a seventh year at Hogwarts.
At the time she had Glamoured a few strands of grey and white into her hair so she would be taken more seriously. As the years passed, though, the grey was non-existent, but the white was there to stay and had an annoying habit of increasing a bit each year. Poppy blamed the Marauders and Severus for most of the white hair.
Poppy shifted self-consciously under the wizard's dark, and frankly appraising gaze. She brushed at a strand of hair that was tickling her cheek, and she blushed as Snape smiled at the gesture.
"Severus!" she admonished under her breath. "Do me the favour of removing me from this display, would you?"
Snape nodded, and held out his arm. "I was simply admiring what every other wizard was admiring, Poppy," he replied with a smile and escorted her onto the dance floor.
Realising where they were headed, Poppy began to protest, "Severus! I told you I can't dance! Please, I don't... whoo!" Before the medi-witch could finish her protest, Snape had expertly whirled her onto the dance floor, taking her breath away with the steps of the sprightly waltz.
After another dance, and another attempt at getting away, Snape pulled Poppy close to his chest, and spoke softly into her ear, "Methinks the witch doth protest too much. You dance quite well, Poppy."
Poppy pushed Snape away to a more respectable distance as they continued to dance. "If you continue with those absurd compliments, Severus, my blood pressure is going to send me into a faint."
"Ah, a fit of the vapours," teased Snape. He received a thump of her hand to his chest, and he twirled her again, effortlessly, through the dancers.
Over on the other side of the ballroom where she could best watch her guests, Narcissa was glowering; rather prettily thought her husband. The aristocratic witch was watching Snape and Madame Pomfrey like a hawk.
"... but Madame Pomfrey?" she declared, for perhaps the tenth time.
Lucius leaned towards his wife. "You have yet to tell me what, if any, your objection is to the medi-witch, my dear."
Narcissa glared at her husband quickly with a look that scolded him, as if he should know. "I don't know anything about where she comes from!"
Lucius scowled condescendingly, "And why would her ancestry matter, Narcissa?"
She crossed her arms lightly over her chest, "Well, I suppose it shouldn't, but don't you want Severus to marry the right sort of woman?"
Lucius laughed. "My dear! Have you got them married already?" Using his thumb, he gently smoothed his wife's frowning brow, and kissed her temple. "Isn't it possible that Madame Pomfrey is merely Severus' friend?"
"A man never has a woman as 'just a friend', Lucius," chided Narcissa. She watched the couple, catching them just as Poppy laughed brightly at something Severus must have said to her. The medi-witch's cheeks were flushed with the high colour of the evening, and, Narcissa expected, the attention of the wizard holding her rather a bit, too close for 'just friends'.
Lucius drew his wife up from the chair she was sitting upon, and towards the dancers. "Come, wife," he commanded, though the smile took away the mock sternness. "Severus Snape's love life, or lack thereof, is none of our business, as I have tried to say so before. Dance with me!" Narcissa couldn't reply since she was swept out amongst the dancers, and very soon her thoughts were all on her husband.
At eleven of the clock, the Winter Ball proceeded on its own without the Malfoy family. The Malfoys, with Snape and Harry in attendance (Madame Pomfrey had vanished, almost like Cinderella, at nine of the clock), retired to the family wing of the manor so they could proceed with their Christmas.
Their celebration was a small one in the parlor with hot chocolate for the children, and hot rum toddies for the adults as they exchanged gifts.
Snape had found a century old bottle of brandy in one of the Prince vaults that he gave to both Lucius and Narcissa. He then gave to Narcissa an old libretto of an opera written by a long deceased member of the Prince family. To Lucius he gave the older wizard a book on Rune Magic and Spirit Magic. It was a very old book, that Snape had copied for himself, and then spent a painstaking month restoring since it was the worse for wear in places.
Draco received from his professor, a set of stories by a Muggle author, Charles Dickens. Draco was immediately fascinated by the volume, and was settled by the large tree, reading the eye-catching story titled, A Christmas Carol. To Hermione, in acknowledgment of her new family, he presented her with a large tome that detailed the history of the Malfoy family. Lucius had helped with putting together that book for his daughter.
Gifts were exchanged amongst the children, until Lucius stood up amongst the small group. His eyes regarded Harry solemnly. "Harry, we have a gift for you, but I would like for you to consider it as a long-awaited gift from your parents."
Harry stiffened. His parents? He nodded, but a slight nudge from his father had him saying, "Yes, Mr. Malfoy? My parents? What is it?"
At a Summons from Narcissa, a large, trunk-sized box wrapped in silver and gold and topped by two red ribbons floated into the parlor. It then plunked itself down on the floor, where Harry sat in front of his father's legs, in front of Harry.
For a long minute, Harry just stared at the gift. He then reached over, took off the ribbons, and tore the silver and gold paper. Under the paper was a trunk, a school trunk, that had seen better days. It was sturdy, though, made of good wood, painted lavender, and trimmed with silver tarnished corners, and edges, and it had a large lock at the front. Beneath the lock, in curvy script, was the name, Lily.
Snape leaned over to touch the trunk. "That belonged to your mother," he whispered to his son, marveling at what he was seeing. "I was with her when she chose it. I thought lavender was a very girly colour, even for a girl's trunk."
Harry giggled and looked up at his father. "What do you think's in it, Dad?"
"I have no idea, son. Why do you not open it and find out." Harry did so, unaware that his two friends had crept closer out of curiosity. Lucius had sat back down beside Narcissa, with a self-satisfied smile on his face.
Harry lifted the lock and pushed the decently heavy lid up until it stood on its own. Inside, the trunk was packed, and he began taking things out. He found a photograph album that he stopped to look through, but he didn't see any photos of his father. Just two little kids doing lots of stuff. Harry paused at one of the photos of a boy and girl chasing each other on a beach somewhere.
"Is that my mum?" Harry asked pointing at the laughing girl.
Snape felt a sharp pain in his chest as he nodded. "It is. And... er... the boy is me. This is a photograph album Lea, your grandmother, made after I gave her a wizarding camera.
"Look, Harry!" crowed Hermione. "Here's another one!"
Harry scowled at Hermione for having gone into his trunk. He snatched the album from Hermione who backed away slightly. "Sorry," she whispered.
"Don't be nosy!" hissed Draco. The tow-headed boy looked up just in time to receive a glare from his father. Narcissa had simply pulled Hermione gently back to sit against her legs.
The other album was the wedding album of James and Lily's wedding. Snape ignored it, and urged his son on to continuing to unpack the trunk. Harry attacked the trunk with vigor, and soon had the contents all around him. Other than a brush and comb set of copper, and a set of seventh year robes, everything belonged to Lily. There was her jewelry box that contained a wealth of jewelry, a set of Lily's first year school robes, some of her school books, a journal of her school days, an older Muggle photo album of Lily and her family. The most startling treasure, though, consisted of a photo album Lily had made of Harry and James and Lily, Harry's christening gown that was worn to the christening Lily's parents had for Harry, his Naming Ceremony gown that James' parents had for their grandson, and a gift never opened.
The gift had sat beneath everything, and nearly hidden by the christening gown.
Harry sat, a bit uneasily, leaning against his father's legs with the gift in his lap. He was eying it warily.
"Go on, Harry," urged Draco. "Open it."
Harry took a deep breath, one that he did not know was mirrored by Snape behind him, and carefully removed the paper. There was a plain box inside and he lifted the lid off of it to reveal a beautiful black silk and velvet rabbit. Snape gasped at the sight of the gift as Harry pulled out a card. He read the familiar, spiky handwriting, "For Harry. In remembrance of a friendship, Severus." The boy turned sharply to look up at his father. "It's from you, Dad! How come I never got it?"
Snape sighed heavily at the long, distant memory. "I sent the gift, I believe, a month, possibly more, after your first year birthday. With your parents moved to Godric's Hollow, in the confusion I surmise, it is possible that Lily overlooked it." Snape really did not have an answer, and did not wish to think that Lily had simply decided not to give the rabbit, a poor olive branch, in Snape's opinion, to the baby Harry.
Harry stood up, hugging the rabbit fiercely to his chest. He gave his father a one-armed hug and whispered into Snape's ear, "Thank you... for everything, Daddy."
Snape hugged his son back, then turned him around to face the Malfoys. "Do not forget who else deserves your gratitude, son."
Harry smiled shyly at the adult Malfoys. "Thanks so much, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. This is all really, really great!"
Midnight came and found Narcissa and Hermione on a plush lounge sleeping lightly over the libretto. Draco was deep asleep, and leaning against his father. Harry had climbed up into Snape's lap not long ago, and was snoozing with soft snores, against his father's chest.
Lucius spoke softly as his hand caressed his son's hair, "The trunk was the only thing that my contacts were able to find, Severus. I was able to discover that everything that the Potters had owned, that wasn't magical, was auctioned off into the Muggle world. An elderly man had purchased a large lot of furniture, that he sold off here and there, but he kept the trunk because of the 'odd pictures' in the one album." Lucius smirked. "He wasn't about to part with it, but my contact can be a very persuasive gentleman and he acquired the trunk and all that was in it."
Snape nodded. He could easily imagine what sort of persuasion might have been used against a Muggle. "Can you tell me of the Potter Library? What of Jameson Potter's collection of magical artefacts? Both of those were rather impressive."
Lucius shook his head, and grimaced as he replied, "The artefacts... I have no answer for those, but, the Potter Library has been right under your nose, Severus."
Snape frowned, and paused. Then, he understood. "Hogwarts? That old, conniving coot! The entire Potter Library is now part of Hogwarts Library?"
Lucius nodded and raised a silencing finger to his lips as he glanced pointedly at both sleeping boys. "Now is not the time to think of such things, Severus."
Snape carefully rose to his feet, shifting his son so he was holding him more securely. Harry let out a yawn, and some sort of garbled sleep speech. Snape automatically patted his child's back as he walked them over to the Floo.
Lucius used his wand to levitate his son so he could slip out from under the boy. He then tucked a pillow under Draco's head before lowering him back to the sofa. The patrician then walked to stand beside Snape and Harry. Lucius stretched out his hand and gently touched Harry's warm cheek. "May Father Christmas bless you both, my friend."
Snape gave the older wizard a formal bow, as much as he was able with an armful of child. "And may his blessing be to your family, as well, Lucius" Snape flung the Floo powder into the orange flame. At his call for the cottage, the flames whooshed into green, and he stepped in and vanished.
24 Dec 1991 – very late at night
Snape moved around the main room of the cottage while his son slept the deep sleep all children slept on the night before Christmas.
The tree blinked with the lights Snape had conjured on the ends of the branches, but he replaced that temporary magic with two strings of fairy lights. To the rest of the room he waved his wand. Garland of ivy and holly berries adorned the windows, the door, and the mantle over the large fireplace. To the greenery on the mantle Snape added tapered, white candles with small flames that he magically shielded from igniting anything other than the candles.
The Potions Master then went over to the heavy table that acted as both a table of study, and a table for meals. He Summoned a series of packages from his bedroom that were all wrapped in a variety of coloured papers, and foils. Each of the boxes held a wonderful array of sweets, cheeses, candied fruits, and nuts that were gifts from nearly all the Hogwarts staff. Snape stacked the boxes so that they formed a small, pyramidal tree of presents. The last thing that he did was to Summon wrapped gifts from his bedroom and placed them under the tree.
He had already decided that the "anonymous" gift from the Headmaster would not be placed on the table, but would go into a spell-protected box for storage. To his disgust he had found in the package the musty Cloak of Invisibility that had belonged to James Potter the goblins at Gringotts had warned him existed. Once Snape had discovered the cloak, he understood, all too well how the teenaged miscreant had managed a great deal of his sneakiness.
Shoving aside his thoughts of that so-called gift, he checked over the stack of presents from the other staff. Mostly practical things for school, Snape had indulged his son with a few things a child would enjoy.
After just barely suppressing a yawn, Snape headed into his bedroom, threw off his coat, his shoes, and fell into bed.
Christmas 1991, Wednesday
Harry woke up very early in the quiet cottage. So early that as he looked out the window the sun was just bashfully touching the horizon. Crawling out of his bed caused the velvet and silk rabbit to emerge from his tangled blankets. Smiling, Harry grabbed the rabbit and squeezed it in his arms. He knew he was too old for plushy animals, but he had never had one to cuddle with as a baby. It was his, though, and it was Christmas. If he wanted to cuddle a cute rabbit that his father had given him (several years late), then he would do so. With the rabbit now firmly in one arm, he scooted down to the end of his bed, and stared down at the trunk that had belonged to his mother. The lavender was a bit too bright, and he noticed there were some little hearts etched into the top. He smiled, thinking of his mother as a little firstie at Hogwarts. Probably a little bit scared, like he had been, and in awe, too. Everything at Hogwarts was so big, so wonderful... magical.
Clambering off his bed he hopped over the trunk and sat down in front of it to open its heavy lid. Just like a child at Christmas, he stared down at all the contents that had been neatly re-packed. He stretched his hand into the trunk and ran his fingers over everything. His fingers rested on one of his mother's school books. Taking one out, he glanced at the title and saw that it was a first year Potions book. Eagerly he opened the book and marveled at all the notes written in the margin. Right away he picked out two different handwritings; one was curvy, and loopy, and in various colours of ink, the other was spiky, precise, and either in green, or red. He recognised his father's handwriting, and surmised that the other, girly hand, was that of his mother's.
A good portion of the notes were just Potions related stuff. Then, he found that there were other notes that were more personal.
'Slughorn's boring,' his father Severus had written in red ink on page 27.
'He's fat, and he smells funny,' Lily had written back in blue ink. Harry giggled.
On page 54 was a longer exchange that began with Severus writing, 'That stupid Potter boy is looking at you again.'
'What a toerag!' Lily had written and underlined the last word three times. Harry smirked.
'You don't like him?' Severus had written in question.
'Course not, silly Sev. You're my best friend.'
Harry closed the book and looked down into the trunk for some older textbooks. He found a seventh year charms book and opened it. Just like in first year, there were more notes, and exchanges, but the handwriting accompanying his mother's was different. Always in brown ink, this hand reminded Harry of marching soldiers. It was precise, but every once in awhile, a few letters got lazy.
On page 342 he read, 'Are you coming to Hogsmeade with me this weekend, Lily?'
'Of course I am, James. Pay attention!'
A few more pages and Harry read similar exchanges. Obviously his father James, didn't like paying attention in class because Lily kept chiding him for that.
Closing the textbook, he took out the wedding album. He had a sudden yearning to see his real father's face, although he had seen the ghostly James Potter at his adoption ritual. Slowly, Harry went through the album. None of the photos moved, so it had probably been a Muggle that took the photos. Harry stopped at one photo, of the wedding party, and stared at it.
James Potter had a wide smile on his face, although it was slightly lopsided, but not terribly so. It kind of gave his father a rakish look, instead of a goofy one. His hair was messy, and Harry frowned at that.
Since being blood adopted by Snape, one small change had come in the smoothness of his hair. His father of now also let him grow his hair long, just to his shoulders, and he liked the way his hair fell now.
Aunt Petunia had hated Harry's hair. If she wasn't complaining about it, threatening to hack it all off, then she was combing it so harshly that sometimes the boy felt like he was being scalped. Harry himself had tried so many times to make his hair nicer, but nothing he did helped. Looking in the mirror, or a reflective surface, he had always felt... undone. It was almost like he had just forgotten to wash himself. As a consequence, Harry greatly disliked this feature, and hoped that maybe another part of him looked like James.
Touching his face, he then looked down at his hands. Harry knew he had his mother's green eyes, and his father Severus often told him his personality was like Lily's. He had also been told by some of the older students that his flying was a good as James. Harry frowned, but what else about him was like James?
His fingers lightly skimmed over the photo of his parents, then lingered on his father James.
Snape had awakened at seven-thirty in the morning. For a brief moment he listened, but heard nothing. Puzzled that he had not been awakened by a Christmas morning excited child, he rose from his bed, completed his morning ablutions, and put on his slippers, and a long, dark green velvet dressing gown. Leaving his room he stepped across to Harry's room, opened the door, and glanced in to see his son surrounded by all the contents of his mother's school trunk.
Harry smiled up at his father and was about to jump up and greet him, but Snape motioned him to stay put as he stepped carefully over everything and seated himself on the edge of his son's bed.
"Dad, there's so much here. You and mum used to write in her books. Some of it was neat, but then there was a lot that was funny. My father did that later, too." For a brief moment Harry's features were worried, and Snape shuddered inwardly to think what Potter must have written about him to Lily in her books. Snape had explained a little about their dislike in school to Harry, but he had not gone into detail. Since the adoption ritual when the ghost of James Potter had nodded in approval to him, he had been trying to put that old hurt away for good. His growing... friendship... with Remus Lupin was helping in that regard. Still, the old hurts were hard to get rid of, and sometimes they blossomed, sharply, like a razor in his soul.
Lily's school trunk had awakened so many memories. Closing his eyes, just briefly, he settled on one, small memory that often had him smiling back when they had been students.
That trunk. Lily's trunk. Pinkish-lavender. Severus and Lily had been taken by Lea Evans to Diagon Alley for proper wizarding trunks. Severus could afford only a second hand one, but it was a handsome one that was still quite sturdy. Lily, though, had fallen in love with that trunk and its nausea inducing colour. Severus had tried, and so had Lea, to interest Lily in a trunk of ANY other colour but that one! Lily was stubborn, though. It was beautiful, and that was that.
"Dad?" Harry interrupted his father's thoughts as he held up the jewelry box. "What am I going to do with this?"
Snape took the box out of his son's hands and examined the pieces. They were lovely, but, he noted, none of the pieces were jewelry that Lea had given to her daughter. The Potions Master suspected that Petunia probably had her mother's jewelry. The brooches, rings, necklaces, and bracelets were almost all goblin-made. That meant they had more than likely come from the Potter side of the family, and were possibly gifts from James to Lily.
Snape's fingers carefully withdrew what at first appearance resembled an overly large brooch. It was immediately evident that the piece was not a brooch, but the Potter family crest. Something handed down from father to son.
The crest was almost all gold, but with rich, enameled highlights of colour. It was in the shape of two gryphons flanking a sun. The eye of one gryphon was a ruby, the eye of the other gryphon was an emerald.
"This is what you should keep, Harry," said Snape as he handed the crest to his son.
Harry liked the look of the piece of jewelry. It was nice, and big, and heavy. "What is it, Dad?"
"The Potter crest. This is something, that had Pot... James been able to, he would have given to you on your 17th birthday." Harry took the Potter crest from his father and held it gently in both hands. Snape thought his son appeared mesmerised by the crest.
With his eyes still upon the medallion in his hands, Harry quietly asked, "Dad? Do I look anything at all like my... uhm... James?"
Snape let out a silent sigh. Harry was still awkward at mentioning James around him, and he needed to fix that. "There is nothing wrong in wishing to resemble your father, Harry. As you know, you already have your mother's eyes."
Harry nodded. "Professor McGonagall told me I fly like James." One of the boy's hands dropped to the wedding album in his lap where Snape could see it was opened to an image of the bride and groom, Lily and James. Harry's fingers ghosted wistfully over his father's grinning face.
Snape left the edge of his son's bed and settled himself on the floor by the child. He tried to ignore a singular disturbing crack from his knee as he bent down to fold himself up into a position he hadn't indulged in since he was Harry's age. Once as comfortable, as was possible for a full grown adult, Snape placed his fingertips under his son's chin, and tipped up his head.
Harry' eyes widened, wondering what his father was up to as Snape appeared to be studying him very carefully. After what seemed like a long time, but was hardly two minutes, Snape spoke to his son's question, "Certainly Lily's eyes, but the bone structure of your face is quite like James'." Snape gave his son a teasing smile as he ran his fingers through the child's soft, nearly straight hair. "From the blood adoption it appears you have inherited my finer hair."
Harry looked down at the photograph of his mother and father. "They're both the same height," he observed. "Was my Jame... my father... was he short?"
Snape glanced down at the wedding portrait and for once he did not settle upon Lily, but scrutinised James. "Well, the Potter men have never been tall. I seem to recall between Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and James, that he was the shorter of the two. I believe that is why he was such a good flyer." Snape looked up and considered his son. "James was a good Chaser, but with his skill, he quite likely could have been a passable Seeker."
Harry didn't acknowledge his father's compliment as he sighed heavily. "So I'm always gonna be short."
"Tut, tut, Harry," Snape chided gently. "Your erstwhile relatives treatment affected your growth, but the Nutrition Potions you have been taking have been helping a great deal to reverse the damage. When you have a growth spurt, around the age of thirteen, we shall have a better idea of what your eventual height will be." Again he tipped up his son's head so he could look into those inquisitive, green eyes. "It might also be possible for you to inherit my stature."
Harry grinned. He desperately wanted to be taller. Not like a giant, or anything, but he had always been so small... so vulnerable, and his father was far from the vulnerable sort. Snape wasn't the tallest person, either, but he did have a respectable height, and he also had a presence that, when he wished it, made him rather an imposing force in a crowd of people.
"So, is it possible for you to be patient until then?" asked Snape of Harry.
"Yeah. I can." Harry slipped his arms around his father's waist and hugged him tightly.
Snape patted his small boy's back and smirked. "I think it is time to see if Father Christmas visited us last night, Harry."
Harry lifted his head in surprise. "Would he come all the way out here?"
"Shall we see?" asked Snape as he rose, a bit too creakily from his position on the floor. Once straightened, he held his hand out to Harry, who took it, and together they went out into the main room of the cottage.
At the sight of all the holly, the ivy, the ornaments, and lights, Harry's mouth dropped open. His eyes widened, and Snape felt his son's fingers tighten around his.
"Dad," Harry whispered, as if afraid to disturb the beauty. "There's presents under the tree!" He then saw the table also stacked with gifts. "Look at that!"
"I see," chuckled Snape. He nudged the boy forward, and watched as Harry, at first, seemed to creep up warily towards the tree. He then fell to his knees before a large, blue foil wrapped box, and let out a gasp as he read the pretty label.
"To Harry, from Father Christmas!" Harry turned a little towards his father. With a nod from Snape, Harry let out a whoop and tore into the gift.
Snape watched, curious at first, by the joy that suffused his blood at the sight. He knew that, technically, Harry was too old for the myth of Father Christmas, and it was likely that Harry himself knew that the old man was merely legend, but Harry had never had presents from the kindly, old gentleman of Christmas in purple velvet robes trimmed in white fur.
A few, token gifts, toys for the most part, were labeled as from Father Christmas. A few more, yet practical gifts, were from Snape. Things such as new robes, an outfit for Summer, socks, and to Harry's embarrassment (because it was a parent's right to embarrass their child even on Christmas) under things. Harry saw those in the box from Madame Malkins and immediately slapped the top back on, and shoved it under the tree.
Within minutes, Harry was surrounded by a half-dozen toys, and books, and clothes, and a wealthy mess of ribbon, coloured, torn paper, and boxes. Snape vanished the mess and then stepped further towards the tree. He then seated himself upon the sofa.
"Come here, Harry," said Snape patting the space beside him. Harry moved away from the gifts and climbed up beside his father, pushing himself under the man's accommodating arm.
For a moment, the two Snapes sat in the peace of Christmas day. Around them fairy lights blinked on and off, a few flew up and down the tree, and the pleasant smell of evergreen, and warm spices permeated the air of the small cottage. Smiles of contentment graced the faces of both father and son as each of them embraced the blessing of the other in their lives.
It was Snape who broke the peaceful silence, but he did so with a motion of his other arm, and a kiss to Harry's forehead. When Harry looked up from his father's chest, he saw that the wizard was using his wand to hover a medium-sized package wrapped in the glorious purple that was his son's favourite colour.
"What is it?" asked Harry as he sat up, his green eyes glittering with wonder over the splendidly wrapped gift.
"I think the only way to answer that, son, is to open it," a chuckle rumbled softly in Snape's chest, and although Harry couldn't see it, he knew that his father's smile was also in his eyes.
Harry took hold of the gift and was a little startled at how heavy it was as it landed upon his lap. It didn't hurt his legs, so he started to unwrap it by taking off the garishly red bow, and then attacking the foil paper.
Underneath the paper was a burlwood box, highly polished, with gold corners, and a gold hook and latch that matched. Before Harry could unlatch the box, Snape's hand landed upon the lid, his fingers splayed.
"I have a question for you, Harry," began Snape. "I have overheard you and your friends talk about plans for the future; Auror being the most popular career amongst all boys," Snape's eyes rolled very briefly. "However, I have yet to hear what you would like to do with your life. Have you ever given thought to it?"
Harry bit his lower lip, and then looked down at his slippered feet as they knocked together uneasily. His hands gripped the sides of the burlwood box possessively.
"Auror?" he said with question, not even looking up at his father.
Snape's hand left the box as a finger tipped up his child's face so he could look into those wide eyes that were obviously hiding something. He shook his head. "No. I do not think that is what you want, nor is it the answer I am looking for," said Snape knowingly.
"Well," hedged Harry, "it's... uhm... silly. I mean, Draco would say it was. I mean, even he told his dad he wanted to be an Auror." Harry's eyes blinked. "Don't you want me to be an Auror?"
"I want you to be what makes you happy, Harry," Snape replied. "Some parents feel that eleven is too young to make a decision that will affect you in your future, and I am not asking that you do so. However, I do want you to think of what you will do in the future, and I wish it to be something that gives you joy."
Harry's brow was slightly wrinkled as he gave serious consideration to his father's words. "Do you mean like potions make you happy, Dad?" He frowned. "You love potions, right? And, teaching?"
Snape smirked gently. "Yes, potions do make me happy. Teaching? Well, not so much. Potions are a magical art in which I feel at my most creative. It annoys me when an experiment does not work out, but it is satisfying when eventually it does."
Harry smiled. "That's why I like to draw," he nodded. "It's fun to draw things I see, but then, I can also draw stuff that my mind makes up. A lot of times, though, I get mad when I can't do something that seems so simple. You know, like when I was trying to draw some stairs going up, but I couldn't make them look like they were going up?"
"The technique of perspective," Snape said, as he, too, recalled the time he had Harry in their quarters at Hogwarts and his son had decided to do some drawing after his homework was finished. Harry had been upset that his drawing had not looked right.
"Yeah! Perspective!" grinned Harry. "That was so neat how you explained perspective and showed me how to draw the box so it was three-dimensional instead of just a square."
"Perhaps you would like to be an artist, someday?" asked Snape.
"I... yeah... but I don't think Draco would like that," he said with a disappointed sigh.
Snape frowned. "One does not choose one's passions because of what others think, Harry." He placed the palm of his hand over his son's heart. "You choose to do what you want in your life because it gives you joy; because it means something to you." His hand left Harry's heart, and one finger flipped the gold latch, and then lifted the lid of the box.
Harry let out a gasp as he saw held within the beautiful box was the wondrous drawing set from Geppetto's. Along with the seven bottles of ink, and the seven, silver-nibbed quills, there were other bottles of ink in shades of brown, green, red, and blue. The astonished, and well surprised little boy, very lightly ran his fingers over the inks, and the quills. In doing so, he saw a scroll tucked between the drawing set and the extra inks. Curious, he picked up the scroll that was tied with a green ribbon. Carefully untying it, he then unrolled the scroll, and saw that it was written in his father's spiky hand.
Harry read it aloud, "To my beloved son, Harry. I give unto you the means of illustrating the wonders of the world around you, and bringing to parchment the beauty of your dreams. Your loving father, Severus."
Snape endured the awkward embrace of his son's arms suddenly wrapped around his neck in order to bend his father down just enough so Harry could kiss his cheek.
Now, Snape thought to himself, this is Christmas!
Update 5/2015
