December 24th

Harry was woken up in the middle of the night by a nightmare. Luckily, he managed to fall asleep again after looking through his photo album. The rest of the night was spent restfully.

Harry woke up to the babies' screaming "Chocolate! Let's brew chocolate!"

He found out it was already 7 o'clock. He dressed, and walked leisurely to the bathroom. He wished he was with Hermione, but he decided not to let it ruin his day. After all, he had the present that Hermione had given him before they left the Gryffindor Tower. It had been teasing Harry's curiosity ever since. He didn't doubt that there was a book hidden in the dark red paper with golden ribbon. Hermione had a knack for good books, and Harry was so curious what she had picked for him.

He pondered the matter whilst he brushed his teeth and combed – uselessly – his hair. Feeling hungry he hurried back to his room to leave toiletries. On his way he got intercepted by Snape.

"Potter, a word."

Harry waited, not bothering with a 'Good morning'.

Snape's lip curled unpleasantly. "I have a proposal for you, Potter. Don't intrude in our family tradition this morning, and I will leave you alone this evening."

Harry was shocked speechless. Snape was forbidding him to be with his family, confining him to 'prison' as his own son had called it. Harry only now realised how much he wanted to participate in chocolate making. The Dursleys were pretty lame when it came to Christmas cheeriness. For them all point of the holiday was to stuff themselves sick with the best food. And, of course, to get the best and the most expensive presents, in Dudley's case. For aunt Petunia, the most important things were the outside decorations outshining the ones of the neighbours.

Snape grew impatient with Harry's unresponsiveness and threatened. "I can make your stay here a most unpleasant one."

And Snape could, Harry knew.

Harry only nodded his consent, turned on his heel and headed for his room. He felt humiliated on a deep level, and he wasn't even sure why. Snape was a bastard, what else was new?

The door on his right opened, Pavel's head appearing from within. Harry wondered if the boy had heard the exchange; his humiliation deepened at the possibility.

Harry more fell than laid down on his bed. He was hungry, but he didn't feel like going down for breakfast anymore. Yes, he decided, it was easier not to show up at all, than to make false excuses later.

Harry started digging through his trunk. He was sure there were some sweets from the last Hogsmeade Saturday. Soon, he was feasting on a bar of Honeydukes chocolate. He wasn't enjoying the exquisite taste as much as he usually did.

Now that he woke up from his shocked stupor, he knew he should have argued with Snape. There would be just gifts opening in the evening. Harry had Hermione's present in his trunk, and he planned to unwrap it alone, not in front of Snape, thank you very much. He wasn't going to get any other presents until he got back to Hogwarts. What was the point of sitting with a family not his own and watching them open their wonderful presents?

Harry should have bargained with Snape to be allowed to come to make chocolate in exchange to the evening event. Well, too late, he thought morosely.

Harry got up again and dug out his present from Hermione. In a spur of the moment, he decided to open it now. Who cared if he waited one more day?

He carefully unwrapped it. The wrapping paper revealed a book, reading 'Foreign Curses & Hexes Fitting in English Hand'. Harry gently ran his hand over the cover. The title sounded intriguing. He opened it randomly, skimming through the pages. The book was divided into sections by continent, and later by countries from where the spells originated. Harry recognised hardly any curse or hex mentioned. He smiled. It was perfect. Unusual hexes were unexpected by an opponent, and thus gave one a handy advantage. The curses were followed by its counter-curse, or a block, or sometimes a potion curing the damage inflicted. Harry turned the pages back, so that he started reading from the prologue. A sheet of parchment fell out.

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, recognising at once Hermione's script.

Dear Harry,

Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year! I hope you will like my present. I'm looking forward to learning those curses and hexes, and their contra, with you and from you – because I don't doubt you will master them sooner than me.

I miss you. Love,

Your Hermione.

Harry smiled sappily, and began reading the new book. Some time later, a knock sounded.

"Yes?" Harry called resignedly. He suspected it was someone fetching him to join the others in the kitchen.

Andy's dark head peeked in, "Mum asks if there's a reason why you didn't come for breakfast."

Yup, her darling husband, Harry thought. He shrugged.

"I'm not hungry," he answered, not lying. The chocolate was rich, and was warming his stomach pleasantly.

"You must be, if you weren't down for breakfast," Andy pointed out logically.

"Food in my trunk," Harry explained curtly. His mind frantically and in vain tried to bring up a neat solution for this situation.

"You bring food to your relatives' house?" Andy asked curiously.

I would if they wouldn't confiscate the whole trunk immediately, Harry grimaced. Aloud he said just, "Chocolate."

"Oh," Andy grinned, "it's good enough for me, but I don't think mum will be satisfied."

Harry wondered what he should do. If he went to eat, Chris would be expecting him to stay for their 'chocolate brewing'. He didn't feel like lying because of Snape, and he didn't think the sour man would forgive him if he told on him. He stared at Andy helplessly.

Andy invited himself in, and sat on the chair he had occupied the previous day.

"Is it something with Dad?" he inquired knowingly.

Harry looked away and shrugged.

"You know," Andy observed, "the first day I thought you were different. You didn't want to hide in my room, and you faced Dad instead."

"I'm not a coward!" Harry informed him angrily.

"I didn't say- "

"Do you think the babies would appreciate a shouting match?" Harry interrupted him. "And Chris would appreciate it? On Christmas?"

"Of course not, but there has to be a middle ground- "

"There isn't," Harry cut him off again. "There's no middle ground between us."

"If you tried," Andy paused at Harry's furious gaze. "You both, I mean," he clarified hastily.

Harry used the pause Andy made to cut him off for the third time. "Give it up, Andy," he said with forced calm. "Give it up, and stop trying to mix ice and fire."

Andy studied him for a moment, then he nodded tersely, got up, and left.

Harry wondered if he just lost a friend. A friend he was ill afford losing.

He stood up and went to a mirror that hung near the window. His face was pale with two angry spots on his cheeks. He studied his green eyes, and felt lost. For the first time ever, he wished he was back at the Dursleys' instead. If nothing else, there were no innocent bystanders there.

Where the hell were the Dursleys?

His good mood had been spoiled twice already, and it wasn't even 10 o'clock in the morning. He got back to his book, but his heart wasn't in it anymore.

If only he could leave. And maybe he could, couldn't he? After all, who would look for him in Russia, of all places?

If only he had some Muggle money.

Harry decided that he needed some fresh air to think. He put on his borrowed clothes – it was another thing he would need if he left here and stayed in Russia. He hoped to slip through the living room without being noticed. No such luck.

"Harry," Chris smiled at him from the kitchen's door. "Changed your mind?"

"Not really," Harry said at a loss, "I'm going to practice skiing in the garden. If it's alright with you."

Chris looked at him, hesitating. Her smile faded. Her expression was still kind, but sad. Well, at least she wasn't angry with Harry for his being ungrateful.

"It's alright," she answered slowly. "I would like to talk to you later, though. Is after lunch in my workroom acceptable?"

"Er- Yes, sure. I wanted to talk to you too," Harry decided to believe Chris genuinely wanted to talk to him, not to tell him off.

Harry shuffled on his skis, making slow rounds on the inner side of the fence. He forbade himself thinking about the happy family inside. Instead he kept forming his tentative plan.

Harry was feeling cold for some time, but he was unwilling to go back inside. He cast another warming charm on himself. He didn't feel much better. Harry wondered why his charm didn't work as well as Chris'. Maybe it was result of much more practise, He decided, and cast another one, frowning at the unholy cold of Russia. Harry liked a nice 'real' winter as any other bloke, but this was too much. He puffed a big cloud of mist to make his point and started another round around the garden.

Finally, Harry couldn't take the cold anymore and he headed back inside. He cleaned his borrowed skis diligently of snow, and left them in the shack. When he exited it, he nearly collided with one of the middle twins.

"How many rounds did you make? Is there any snow left or are there patches of grass behind you?" the boy teased.

Harry grinned, "Patches of ice more likely. Cold like this makes me wish for spring." He shivered. "Sorry, need to get de-frozen."

"De-frozen!" Pavel laughed. "You have yet see winter at its worst."

Harry shuddered over-dramatically, "No, thanks."

He headed to the house, hoping for nothing else but a big cup of hot sweet tea. He sat down to unfasten his ski boots. The door from the living room opened as someone stepped into the hall. Harry hoped it wasn't Snape.

No such luck.

"Potter."

God, how he hated that silky voice.

Harry didn't bother to face Snape, and continued to unwrap the ice-covered fastening with his aching fingers.

"It's basic politeness to face the person talking to you," Snape informed him icily.

You talk about politeness, git!

With anger helping him, Harry finally managed to take the boot off. Now the second one.

"Especially, when you meet your superior." Snape continued his monologue, in which Harry had no wish to participate.

Superior, my ass!

The second boot didn't seem to be so frozen. Or maybe Harry should have just waited a few minutes before unfastening them?

"Of course, you've always been a mannerless brat." Snape informed Harry's back, his voice even colder and more cutting.

Drop dead! Harry thought uncharitably. Stupid Christmas with stupid Snape who can't stay away and pollute air someplace else!

Harry finally got rid of the boots, and gratefully slipped his tired legs in his borrowed slippers. He got up and faced Snape. It was about time, he guessed, judging Snape's livid face. He was pretty sure Snape wouldn't hex him, because he wouldn't get away with it with Chris. It wouldn't do to push Snape so much that he wouldn't even remember that his wife would object, though.

Harry looked at the hated wizard. He looked into his dark eyes, not caring if Snape used Legilimency. Their animosity was past hiding, at least as far as Harry was concerned.

"I have a deal, sir," he informed firmly the older wizard, who looked taken aback, "beneficial to us both."

Snape raised an eyebrow, and curled his upper lip derisively. Harry translated it as indication that Snape was willing to listen, but knew already he would hear meaningless nonsense.

"I want to move to a hotel," Harry informed him. "I need you to lend me some Muggle Russian money. I'll pay you back in cash back at Hogwarts."

Snape stared at him as if Harry sprouted a second head.

"What?" Harry asked, irritated. "You want me gone, I want to be gone. What's the problem?"

"Dumbledore- "

"Doesn't have to know," Harry stepped in. He didn't cut Snape off – he wasn't suicidal – just used a pause Snape made. "You can pick me up on your way back to England."

Snape still stared at him, as if he saw him for the very first time. It seemed he didn't know what to think. He found his stance swift enough, though. "You are playing martyr, Potter," the man accused. "It's disgusting."

"I'm not playing," Harry informed him flatly. He could see that this all was just heading to an unproductive argument.

Damn it! What to say to persuade the cold-hearted bastard? Only, he wasn't so cold-hearted, was he, with his family.

"Chris doesn't deserve this," Harry decided to play on the family card. "She's great. She's really... great about everything." Harry repeated hopelessly. He expected every second that Snape would pick on his lack of eloquence. Hell, he didn't know how to express feelings like this! "She deserves a peaceful Christmas. With you and I fighting she's not getting it. I'm adding to her worries, just like you said, and it's not fair to her," he finished lamely.

Snape was silent. Suddenly, Harry had a strange feeling. It felt like Snape had listened to him – really listened - for the first time ever. He shook his head. He was going found he couldn't stand this odd talk any more. It was time to test if Snape had heard.

"Will you lend me the money?"

"No, Potter," Snape answered slowly. "I'm not lending you money. And you are not going to any hotel."

Harry fumed. "Why the hell not?"

To his surprise Snape didn't call him on the foul language. "Because Chris would never agree to it. Because it would be less safe than for you to stay here. Because Minerva is coming in three days, and Albus certainly informed her about the situation," Snape listed calmly. "Should I continue?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. He was suspicious about the lack of sarcasm in Snape's answer.

"I would be safe enough. Professor McGonagall knows we hate each other," he countered. "So, if I persuade Chris, you will agree?"

"And how are you going to persuade her?" Snape inquired silkily. "By listing a list of my wrongdoings, real or alleged?"

Oh! Snape was afraid? To be honest, Harry was most surprised Snape admitted any wrongdoings.

"Is this the place where I lay conditions for my confidentiality?" he asked, sounding to himself more tired than sarcastic. "I'm not a Slytherin, alright? I'm unhappy and I want out. Everyone will be satisfied. Why can't you see that?"

Harry realised this was the longest talk ever between them, and they even weren't shouting. Miracles happen on Christmas Eve, it seemed.

"A deal can be agreed upon," Snape paused, probably expecting Harry to ask about his offer.

"I love your deals. Potter, stay hidden under your bed, and I won't make your life a hell." Harry was aware that he completely failed to imitate Snape's baritone.

"Stop being a drama queen," the man looked more amused than angry. "We will simply ignore each other."

"Because it has worked so well so far," Harry pointed out.

"It will work now," Snape answered with finality. "Now, if you excuse me, I need to prepare myself for skiing." He went to retrieve his ski boots.

"I didn't say I accepted the deal." Harry was disappointed. He still hoped he will persuade Chris. Maybe she would lend him the money.

"As if you did." Snape turned back to him. "You can tell Chris things I wouldn't want her to know, and maybe even make her angry with me. You will be not ever able to persuade her to let you leave. Trust me, I've been married to her for nearly eighteen years. You won't persuade her."

Harry was taken aback. Snape had admitted weakness, which was unheard of. Snape was talking without malice, which was odd. Also, the wizard sounded honest, as much as it meant with a Slytherin. But somehow, his words rang true. In that moment, Harry knew the man was right.

"Bother!" he cursed.

Snape smirked at him, and left, letting icy air in through the door. Harry shivered, and remembered he wanted to have some tea. When he opened the door, his nose was immediately attacked by the smell of chocolate. Harry could feel his mouth watering.

The living room was empty. Thank Merlin! Harry belatedly realised everyone might have heard them. He should have put a silencing charm on the door. Or Snape should have. Maybe Snape had charmed the door, Harry realised. The man was a spy, after all, practised in secretive ways. And undoubtedly, Snape hadn't wanted his wife to hear him picking on their guest. Harry shook his head. It didn't matter.

He found Chris cleaning the kitchen. "Hi," he said shyly. "I thought I would make myself a pot of tea."

"Go ahead," Chris smile at him. "I would offer you some chocolate, but I have to insist on you having a proper breakfast first."

"Er- sure," Harry agreed, realising he was quite hungry. Cold yogurt didn't sound very appealing at that moment. "Can I make myself some toasts?"

"That's my boy," Chris approved, and gave the last glance to the – now pristine, at least in Harry's eyes – kitchen. She waved one more charm over the floor. "I think that will do," she decided. To Harry, she added, "I forgot to tell you that lunch will be late, because everyone tasted so much chocolate, and chocolate on biscuits. Make sure you eat enough to last till about two o'clock."

"Thanks," Harry paused on his way to fridge, and looked at her. She looked back, calmly. Harry would like to explain to her how much her caring meant to him, but then again, there were things teenage boys simply didn't say.

"Also, I realised," Chris continued, oblivious to his musings, "that it would be better if we talked now, instead of after lunch. The meal is usually longer, and then shortly afterwards we will unwrap presents."

Harry nodded, "Andy told me."

"Make your toast and add some tea for me, please, and then we talk," she smiled, and left the room. Harry could hear her climbing the stairs, and calling for Sasha and Mark.

Harry was already eating his second toast when 'the babies' accompanied by Andy walked through the living room, and continued to the hall. Chris came shortly afterwards, sat across the table, took the cup Harry had prepared for her, and looked at him seriously.

"You said you wanted to talk to me about something. Do you want to start?"

Harry shook his head. "I thought I would move to a hotel for a few days, but I realised you wouldn't agree," he said sheepishly.

"I wouldn't," she confirmed with finality. "I don't think I could live with myself if I let a child – or young man," she added, probably thinking Harry would bristle at being referred as a child. "To be driven away from my home by my own husband's abuse."

Now Harry bristled. He hated the word. "I'm not abused," he informed her firmly.

"Bullied, then."

A bully, Snape was. Harry couldn't dispute with that. He took a sip of his tea, and thought about his next words.

"Look- " he paused, still unsure how to express himself, "I don't like Snape, and he doesn't like me. Dumbledore never thinks about that when- " he paused again. He nearly talked about the Dursleys! He tried again, "I understand Snape, okay? I wouldn't be thrilled to have him in my house either. He lives without you most of the time, he expected a family Christmas, and now I'm standing in his way."

"You are rather emphatic for a boy of your age." Harry decided to take that as a compliment. "It also makes you more perceptive of Severus' treatment."

Really, why did women never understand how degrading their pity was?

"I can take care of myself. Don't pity me."

"I don't pity you. I want to discuss with you ways how to change the situation. And not by moving you elsewhere," she clarified. She tasted her tea, and got up to get herself some honey.

"Do you know why the Dursleys didn't pick me up?" Harry knew the chances were slim but he had to ask.

"Not yet. We decided to wait if Minerva would know. If not, we would make inquiries through her. It will be the safer way – she is the head of Gryffindor, and her interest won't be noticed," Chris elaborated.

Harry nodded. "It makes sense."

"Even if we find out, I doubt you will be moved from here before the end of the holiday," Chris warned him. "Every transport brings risk."

Harry nodded again. It wasn't as if he wanted to go to his stupid relatives, anyway.

"So, we need to find out the way you and Severus can cohabit without constant clashing," Chris informed him.

Harry wondered what she had in mind. He was pretty sure she wouldn't restrict him to the guest room. He couldn't imagine her locking Snape in their bedroom (or his lab?) either, though.

"Any thoughts?" Chris asked.

Harry shrugged. "Snape and I have just talked, and decided to ignore each other." He was aware he sounded doubtful.

"That's a start," she agreed. "I already asked Severus not to make any sarcastic remarks."

Harry looked at her sceptically.

"I ask you the same," she continued as if she didn't see his expression. When Harry nodded his assent, she continued, "I don't want you to seclude yourself. You are welcome to join us for any activity. It's holiday and I want you to have fun."

"Thanks. I'm sorry I complicate things," Harry said honestly. "Also, I would rather skip the presents opening, if you don't mind."

"You can't skip gifts opening," Chris objected immediately. "Who will unwrap your presents, if you do?"

"I won't have any," Harry explained. "I just got one in advance, and the rest I will get back at school."

"Bring the one you got, then," Chris ordered. "And wait if Santa brings you something."

"I don't believe in Santa," Harry objected.

Chris grinned at him mischievously. "The key question is – does Santa believe in you?" She finished her tea and got up. "Off with you, and don't forget, lunch at two o'clock."

Harry went up to his room, feeling defeated. He was sure Snape wouldn't be able to ignore him. Harry had been trying to go unnoticed since he came here, but it didn't work. And it sounded like Chris even got him a present, and of course Harry didn't have any presents for anyone. No way Snape would miss commenting on that.

He sighed. He tried to rewrap Hermione's book as neatly as possible. He left the letter in his trunk.

He sighed again, and then plopped down on his bed, deciding to read Potent, Dangerous, and Still Light Combat Spells. He was itching to try some of the spells. Maybe they could try those with Andy tomorrow morning…

Xxx

Harry was descending the stairs, clad in his school uniform – just trousers, white shirt, and tie, actually - feeling slightly nervous. He brought his rewrapped present and put it under the tree unobtrusively. The present promptly vanished. Harry blinked. Then he realised the area around the tree was spelled. He loved magic. Not for the first time, he regretted he hadn't been growing up in a magical household, meeting charms and spells on every step since he was born.

"Potter," Snape's voice made him jump. He realised he was staring at the tree, looking probably pretty daft. He prepared himself for an insult.

Miraculously, it never came.

"Professor," he answered, using the same – carefully neutral – voice as had the older wizard. He wanted to pass the man, heading to the kitchen. Snape stopped him with a gesture of his hand.

What? Harry looked at him resignedly. He had known that this 'I'm going to ignore you' thing would never work. Snape simply couldn't let be.

"Did you want to move because of Chris or because of you, Potter?" Snape asked him seriously. Not maliciously, not suspiciously, not accusingly, just seriously. How odd.

Harry was taken aback. He shrugged. Why did that matter?

"Why?" he asked, not caring how suspiciously his voice sounded.

"I'm giving you the privilege of a doubt." Snape's response didn't make Harry any less suspicious.

Harry scoffed. Snape was growing a conscience? A bit late, if you asked him. Five freaking years late. "Both," he responded with another shrug.

"I see," Snape looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes. Harry felt like a bug being considered to be used in a potion or thrown away.

Do you, Harry thought flatly. He didn't have to feign neutrality.

Middle twins and Andrei came to the stairs, descending, which thankfully put end to their weird conversation. Harry couldn't care less if the man thought he was a drama queen, a spoiled hero, an attention seeker, or a primadonna. He didn't want anything else of the foul git but to stay away from Harry as far as possible. Another continent, if you will.

As if he heard him, Snape headed to the kitchen.

"Nice tie," Andy joked, bringing attention to Harry's attire.

"Gryffindor," Harry grinned, showing the red and gold colours with exaggerated pride. "The very best House."

"Why don't you wear matching trousers? It would bring out your legs," Andy laughed.

"My girlfriend doesn't like when others are ogling me," Harry grinned.

Together they entered the kitchen. The babies were already setting cutlery and napkins on a table – the first chore that Harry had seen them to do. Kolya was adding glasses and jugs of juice.

The meal was a rather relaxing one. The kids were exuberant, they couldn't wait to get their presents. Chris had to urge them to eat. Nobody had to ask Harry twice. They didn't have a turkey or pudding, but some strange half-cold potato salad and fried meat, wiener-schnitzel, as Chris named it. Harry had never eaten this before, and was enjoying a new taste.

If there weren't crackers in a bowl, one wouldn't recognise this as Christmas lunch, Harry mused.

Magical crackers were fun, of course. Harry had to bit his lip and pretend to cough when two tiny fairies flew out of Snape's cracker, spraying the sour man with a rain of glittering confetti.

"Okay, everyone," Chris ordered. "Everyone goes to find something for the orphanage, and then we'll look and see if Santa brought us some presents."

Mark and Sasha groaned.

"That's another tradition," Andy explained to Harry when they were climbing stairs. "We give up a toy or something we don't use anymore, and mum delivers it later to a nearby orphanage for magical kids. Presumably, it makes a place for the new things one will get. In reality, it's supposed to teach us compassion. You don't have to give anything, of course."

"I think I will," Harry said thoughtfully. He was pondering about the many things stashed in his trunk. He realised he should have gone through it and thrown away things a long time ago.

In the end, he found a small bar of chocolate, three chocolate frogs, the flute Hagrid had given him in his first year, a few white shirts that were too small for him and still appeared passable, four Mrs. Weasley's jumpers (he kept the one from last year), two Muggle fiction books (smuggled from Dudley's dustbin), his collection of Chocolate Frog cards (he decided he was too old to collect these), a Chudley Cannons t-shirt (from Ron), the rememberall Neville had given him in their first year, a snow globe, and a nearly full pack of owl treats that Hedwig didn't like.

Harry stopped in the middle of the stairs. He could see the piles of presents under the tree now. Even though, on the second look, the heap wasn't bigger than at the Dursleys, and here were eight Snapes sharing it.

"What's wrong with our Christmas tree?" Andy clapped his black good naturedly, "you are staring at it awfully hard."

"He's probably wondering if Santa brought him something," Kolya, full of Christmas cheer, joked. "Have you been a good boy, Harry?"

"I've heard Dad's giving you a few private Potions lessons as a gift, Harry," Pavel, who just reached them, announced brightly.

Harry turned towards him so fast that half of his tokens for the orphanage fell down the stairs.

Pavel doubled in a fit of laugh. "You should – ha ha – see your – ha ha – face!"

'The firsties' – how was sometimes Andy and Kolay called, whilst the middle twins were apparently 'the middles' – joined Pavel immediately.

"What's up? Why are you laughing like deranged people?" That was Eda. "You are blocking the stairs, by the way."

Harry didn't know if he should hit Pavel, or laugh. In the end he just shook his head in resignation, and started picking up his things that were littering the stairs.

Snape came out of the kitchen and picked up the rememberall that rolled the farthest. His gaze found Harry and the colourful jumpers. He gave them a disdainful frown (or maybe not to the jumpers but to Harry). "I'm afraid they could be traced back to you, Potter. Give them away in England," the wizard ordered and placed the rememberall into a cardboard box.

Harry stared at him. How paranoid could one get? Who on Earth would recognise his old clothes here, and track them back to Chris, and through her to Snape?

Harry shrugged. It wasn't worth arguing. Hermione would probably know some orphanage back home. "What about the shirts?" he asked.

"Give them here," Snape held out his shirt-clad hand. "I hope they are not signed."

"Not to my knowledge," Harry responded honestly, pushing his glasses up his nose. He had never really considered how the House-elves knew whose laundry they were doing.

Snape took out his wand from somewhere inside his sleeve. Whilst he was waving it in intricate patterns, occasionally murmuring something, Harry looked at him pensively. How could Snape take out something so quick through the tight cuffs? Or maybe he actually had the wand outside of the sleeve, and kept invisible? Harry guessed that maybe Snape was wearing one of the wand holsters that Harry wanted to try.

"They are clear," Snape decided. "Pass the rest."

Harry obediently handed Snape one thing after another, jerking a bit when Snape's hand brushed his. He couldn't remember touching Snape before. He was glad when it was over and he could go and collapse into one of the armchairs, grateful to God that the wizard hadn't commented on the tokens. But of course, Snape wouldn't, in the presence of his four sons.

Soon, they all were sitting in armchairs, and Harry realised Chris and the smallest Snapes were missing. He looked up to check the staircase.

"They won't be for a while," Andy noticed his glance. "The babies never want to give up any toys."

Harry nodded. He could understand that. He remembered his bellowed broken soldiers still hidden at the bottom of his school trunk. He didn't think he could ever give them away. Not as if someone would want them, old broken things, anyway.

There was silence. Harry felt uncomfortable. He was painfully aware of Snape. The man was making him nervous.

To his relief, 'the middles' started talking to Snape about yet another ski trip that they had planned. Harry relaxed and engaged Andy in conversation about a few spells from Potent, Dangerous, and Still Light Combat Spells. Kolya joined them; it seemed that they didn't know those spells and counters either, and they found it a good idea to try them the next day in the garden. Harry was explaining wand movements of a spell, the incantation, the theory behind it, when to his mortification he found that the talk about snow trips had died down, and Snape was listening to Harry.

Drat.

"What hex are you talking about, Potter?"

"Er… Actually, it's classified as a spell," Harry stammered. "It's just similar to a hex."

"Its name?" Snape demanded, frowning.

"Stinging spell," Harry explained reluctantly, "it's similar to Stinging hex, but-"

"But is doesn't cause lasting damage on nerves even if used repeatedly," Snape cut him off.

Show off. Harry commented in his head. And a hypocrite, considering how often you took points from Hermione for being 'a know-it-all'.

"What other spells do you intend to try on my sons, Potter?"

Harry bristled.

Before he managed to say something though, Andy intervened. "You are being a bit unjust here, Dad," the boy stood up to his father for the first time since Harry met him. "Harry explained how it's cast, and we'll try it on him too."

Oh, no. They were in for a row. Snape would be incensed that someone dared to oppose him, and there was possibly a shouting match coming. Chris would be so disappointed. Harry knew he had to say something quickly.

His brain refused to provide any words.

"It's something else to hear it explained and to have cast it before," Severus explained to his son patiently.

"Harry- " Andy started. Harry surmised the boy wanted to explain that Harry himself had just learned the spell from a book. To that, Snape would just smirk and say they were not to trust a Potter.

"Let's not argue," Harry interrupted Andy with a worried glance towards the stairs. "It's Christmas. I'll give you a list of spells I want to try in the morning, if that's alright with you. Sir," Harry added for a good measure.

Snape smirked at him, leaving Harry stunned. What there was to smirk about?

"That will be acceptable, Mr. Potter," the unbelievable wizard said. Then he turned from Harry back to the Middles and started yet another conversation.

Kolya raised a very Snape-like eyebrow at Harry. "Afraid of our father much?"

"Our mother, I would say," Andy corrected his twin.

"Sorry," Harry apologised sheepishly, "I don't have much experience with parents."

"I bet they are pretty similar to having an aunt and an uncle," Kolya dismissed. Andy observed pensively. No doubt using his creepy insightfulness.

Harry decided it was about time he changed the topic. He started talking about spells again, and to his relief the boys gamely complied.

Soon enough, Chris descended the stairs with two crestfallen little boys. Especially Sasha seemed on the verge of tears when he put a small toy car into the box. Harry suddenly felt extremely sorry for him.

"Come on, boys, I'm sure very special toys are waiting for you," Chris tried to cheer them up. It worked miraculously.

"Can I get the first present?" Sasha asked boldly.

"I don't see why not," Chris seated them on the sofa and went to the tree. She took out a big present, commenting, "This one is together for Sasha and Mark."

Four little hands ripped through the wrappings, and the Babies squealed when they opened the box. Harry bowed forward to have a better look. Mark took out a small owlet. It wasn't much bigger than Ron's Pig. Sasha gently ruffled its feathers with his forefinger.

"She doesn't have a name yet," Chris informed them, "also, she can't fly yet. You need to take good care of her."

The twins nodded fervently.

Chris added, "she still has to house with Franchesca. If you want, you can take them both to your room."

"Yes, yes," the twins enthused.

"Franchesca is mum's owl," Andy explained to Harry quietly. "I and Kolya have Homér together, and the Middles have an owl named Sofia."

Chris handed one present to everyone else, whilst the Babies played with surprising gentleness with the little fluffball.

Harry opened his small narrow present, revealing an envelope. From the corner of his eye, he could see others got the same present. The envelope contained a ticket inviting him to a paintball game center and a leaflet describing the rules of the game.

He blinked owlishly at the tickets and then at the Snapes. They all had the same tickets and leaflets, even Snape and Chris.

"Paintball?" Pavel wondered. His twin's head was bent over the leaflet.

"Sounds like fun," Kolya grinned.

"Yeah," Andy joined. "Like a duel or a battle where you don't have to concentrate on spells but on strategy, hiding and attacking."

"Exactly," Chris beamed at her son. "I say we are in for an extremely interesting experience."

"Giving presents to yourself?" Snape asked his wife in a teasing voice that Harry had never hear before. It sounded affectionate and gentle.

She grinned at him. "Somehow I had a feeling no one would give me a paintball game ticket, darling."

Andy noted to Harry. "Mum always gives the most surprising gifts."

Harry smiled at him, nodding. It was definitely surprising, and a wonderful gift. It would be a hell of a lot of fun. And Harry would get to shoot Snape, too!

"What about us?" Mark asked, sounding peeved. "We want to go to this shooting game too!" He had already transferred the owlet to his twin, who had it scooped in his small palms, and was eyeing Eduard's leaflet.

"You will have to wait till you are 14," Chris said apologetically. "You will stay here with Minerva."

"You already reserved a day for us?" Andy asked, sounding delighted.

"December 28th. We have one hour to get dressed in the special garments and to learn how to operate the gun. There is a shooting range. Then we have the place booked for two hours just for us, and then for another two hours we might be joined by some random people. Up to sixteen people can fight a battle."

"So, we are going to that former factory place, not to those outside playfields?" Pavel asked, waiving his leaflet in the air.

Chris nodded, and started handing another round of gifts, starting with the still disgruntled Mark.

Harry got a box that revealed a pair of brand new trainers. He looked at Chris. "Thank you," he said gratefully. "They are great." He hoped the shoes weren't too expensive.

Chris smiled at him indulgently, apparently not bothered by the spent money.

Harry decided to put the trainers on immediately. They fit perfectly. Harry happily went to put his borrowed slippers into a cabinet in the changing hall.

When he got back in, Snape was being teased over his reluctance to pull his nose out of a book – no, a journal, Harry corrected himself, noticing it wasn't printed but handwritten.

Harry sat on his place beside Andy and mouthed silently, "What?"

"We translated a whole year's worth of a Russian Potions magazine." Andy's explanation was hardly audible, as the rest of the room was laughing so loudly. "Something similar to Potions Monthly in Britain."

Harry nodded his understanding. Good for him, he guessed. Snape would read and leave him alone. Aloud, he asked, "What have you gotten?"

Andrei blushed. "A restaurant vocher. I want to take Eva out, but her parents wouldn't let me take her anywhere but a posh restaurant. All my savings wouldn't be enough for that."

"That's great that you can see her," Harry said a little enviously. He missed Hermione dearly.

"Chaperoned by her older brother," Andy grimaced.

Harry rolled his eyes. That was really ridiculous. He decided he would buy a belated Christmas present for Hermione's parents. He was lucky to have them. They weren't preposterous – like Eva's parents – they weren't even as demanding as Mrs. Weasley would be if he dated Ginny.

"I told you, they are suffocating us," Andy complained. Then with obvious need to be fair, he added, "Adam's alright, though. He's a seventh year, and he supports our relationship."

"That's great," Harry encouraged. "He's more important than parents, at least until you are out of school."

"Presents," Chris handed them another round. Harry had gotten the familiar rewrapped present.

He unwrapped it, and caressed the cover, not bothering to open the book. Instead he looked around the Snapes. Chris was admiring a piece of jewellery, a small golden locket. Harry could easily guess who it was from – Snape got a big kiss from her.

"Open it," the man advised.

When opened, the locket showed that it was noticeably bigger in the inside. Chris beamed at it. "I wish you were there too," she said.

Harry wondered what she meant by that. He found out soon enough. Chris sent the pendant around so that they all could have a look. There was an oval picture showing the heads of her six sons. They looked just like now; it had to be a very recent picture.

Harry passed it along. When the jewellery reached Chris again, she beamed at the picture, and then put the locket on her throat. Harry suddenly remembered the Weasley clocks with hands pointing where the members of the family just dwelled. He wished he knew the spells behind it. He would replicate them for the Snape family and gave them to Chris to pay back for all she had done for him.

To his surprise, Harry got two more presents - a box containing four kinds of Muggle sweets from the Babies and the Middles. Sasha explained him that each of them had picked something looking particularly tasty in the Muggle supermarket a few days ago. He hinted heavily that Harry was supposed to share with them. The second gift was a khaki green t-shirt with a big beige picture of cannabis leaf from Andy and Kolya. He thanked all of them, honestly touched to get so many nice things.

He also observed the presents of the Snapes. He paid partial attention to Snape's of course, because he was genuinely interested in what anyone could give to the foul man. Apart from the paintball game ticket, and the translated magazines, Snape got two more books, one on Australian magical plants, and one called 'All Tasmanian Fauna and Flora'. As Pavel got the same book about Tasmania, and Andy got a small book on Aborigines' warding and runes, Harry wondered if the Snapes were going to spend their next holiday in Australia. Lucky them.

Snape also got – and loudly appreciated – hand-made sculptures of some weird beetles made from painted stones, and wires. It was clear that the kids made them, and were really proud about it. They basked in their father's praise like cats in the sun. Harry watched wistfully. This was something Voldemort had taken away from him.

It wasn't before he was in bed when Harry smugly realised that if he counted the sweets as two presents - they were from two sets of twins, after all - he had got the same amount of presents as Snape!