Harry had enough manners to wipe his hands on his napkin before picking up the newspaper. On the front, in huge letters, the headline read HARRY POTTER MAKES HIS MARK. Underneath was a picture of him grinning with his arm around Luna.

"Let's see. 'Harry Potter, age 16, has finally chosen his destiny and it comes in the shape of one lovely blond witch.' Then there's information about Luna, most of it right. Oh this is charming. 'Perhaps Mr. Potter has put aside his heroics long enough to chase something tangible and real though Ms. Lovegood's character does seem out of touch with reality enough to tempt the wild imagination of Mr. Potter.'"

Harry threw the paper down with a scowl. "Can we sue them?"

Snape just glowered at him.

"I hate the papers," Harry reached for another slice of toast. "Liars, all of them. Though Luna does look good in the snow. Can I have the picture to hang in my room?"

Snape still glowered.

"Oh, come off it," Harry sighed as he scooped out more marmalade, having already emptied half the jar on previous slices. "We were kissing - that's all. If the papers want to make a big deal of it, let them. It's not the worst thing they've ever said about me."

"I don't like it," Snape said. "It's demeaning and puts you back in the limelight. I've worked these last months to make sure they didn't have anything to write about you, and in the space of one afternoon, you dash my efforts to pieces."

"Well, dash me then," Harry replied. "Honestly, no one cares except you. You want me to stay a little boy forever, and I can't do that."

"You're only sixteen. You're not an adult yet, and even once you are, I doubt you'll be capable of making good decisions."

That last bit could have stung, but Harry chose to shrug it out by replying, "I chose you - that was a good decision enough for both of us."

"I'll still be keeping a close eye on you," Snape threatened.

Harry replied by munching rather noisily on the piece of toast.

HP&HP&HP&HP&HP

On Christmas morning, Harry woke before dawn. He got dressed and took his present for Snape out from under his bed. He crept downstairs and put it under the small tree he had convinced Snape to buy and decorate. So far there were only two gifts under the tree and they were both for the house elves.

Harry had to smile in spite of himself. He had caught Snape looking at him hard every time Harry had glanced at the tree. He knew Snape was longing for him to ask why there weren't any presents under the tree for him, and Snape would get to launch into a tirade about how naughty teenage boys didn't get to have presents and would only get coal and switches for their gifts. So, Harry had made a point not to say anything as he knew full well that Snape would get him something for Christmas.

For his last birthday, Snape had let him have a party and had given him the pocketwatch. There wasn't a chance that Snape would ignore Christmas.

The dawn light finally eased through the gray sky, and Harry could see the light snow falling. Ignoring his cloak, he unlocked the front door and ran out into the frigid air. The cold bit at his nose, ears, and fingers, but he ran around the house a few times to warm himself. He tried to write Happy Christmas in the snow, but it wasn't quite deep enough and he had to content himself with breaking icicles off ledges and railings and throwing them at the trees. They made tremendous snapping sounds when they hit the trees.

Once his chest was sore from breathing in the cold air and his nose began to run and his teeth wouldn't stop chattering, Harry darted back up the steps into the warm manor.

He was stomping snow off his shoes in the mud when he heard Snape coming down the stairs. Harry ran out and opened his mouth to say "Merry Christmas," but he froze at the look which Snape fixed on him.

"Hi," Harry said in a small voice.

No responses.

"I got most of the snow off my shoes," Harry tried.

Snape looked even sterner.

Harry let out a deep breath. "Well, a coat just gets in the way. It wasn't even that cold out there."

If possible, Snape's eyes looked even darker.

"Prehistoric man didn't need coats and neither do I. There is not a shred of scientific fact, Muggle or wizard, that indicates that human beings need to wear coats in December. In fact, in Iceland, it's a long standing practice to run through the snow completely naked and jump into the hot springs."

"Harry?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you want to have Christmas or not?"

"You can't take Christmas from me!"

"Then I suggest you go upstairs, take a hot bath, put on clothes that are not soaked with snow, and come back down immediately."

Harry nodded and walked up the stairs. At the very top, though, he turned and called down, "I'm taking a shower, not a bath!"

Then he sprinted for his room before Snape could come after him.

The hot water did feel good to his numb fingers, and he dressed himself in warm clothes and scrambled back downstairs to have breakfast.

Snape tried to look cross and authoritative, but he looked too contented with Harry's delight over the breakfast (cinnamon sticky buns with loads of gooey icing that Harry loved) and the way the house elves fussed over the young master. Both house elves gave Harry a pair of silver-colored mittens, and he got out of his chair to hug them both.

"I wish I had more to give you," he put his hand in his pocket and drew out two silver Sickles, handing one to each elf.

"Oh, no, Young Master," Nabby said. "Just having you here is a gift enough. Master is so much happier since you came."

"That will be enough," Snape interrupted. "You will each find a gift for yourself under the tree. Enjoy the rest of the day."

Once the meal was over, Harry and Snape went to the family room, and Harry took his gift and handed it to Snape.

"It arrived last night and the owl nearly dropped from exhaustion."

"I thought I heard some banging up in your room," Snape said as he took the gift. In neat precise tears, very Snapish, he unwrapped the gift to reveal three thick, leather-bound books tied together with a crimson ribbon.

"'An updated potions anthology'," Snape read the small card on the front of the top book. "'A must for the potion brewer in your family'."

"I asked around, and they said this was the definitive edition," Harry said. "There are potions in there that were only invented a month ago."

"It's perfect," Snape gave Harry a warm smile, which was not quite as good as a hug, but it would do.

"Now what did you get me?" Harry rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"What makes you think you're getting anything? I don't see any gifts for you under the tree."

"Very funny. Now give it to me."

Snape took out his wand and waved a spell over the tree. Two small gifts appeared under it.

Harry tried not to let his face fall. He supposed at his age, he was really too old for big gifts. Small gifts would be what he would get from now on.

The first gift was a cleaning set for his broom: a small brush, oiled cloths, and a special shiner to make the wood gleam. It was a handsome gift, all tied up in a brown box, but it wasn't exactly what Harry would have wanted for Christmas. But he reminded himself that it was a practical gift, and part of being an adult was accepting practical gifts.

The next box was a book about Quidditch moves and how to best practice them. Harry liked this book better than the cleaning gear, yet he couldn't help feeling disappointed. For his birthday, Snape had given him a pocketwatch with a message carved into it, a beautiful shiny brass pocketwatch that was at least a hundred years old. The watch meant something to Harry - it was something tangible that he could hold and remember how Snape felt about him, how he had become part of a family, who was looking after him now.

"Thank you, these are wonderful," Harry smiled over his gifts, doing his best to look appreciative. "Exactly what I needed."

"You're still a terrible liar," Snape shook his head. "Even after all our lessons, you can't mask your feelings to save your life."

"I really do like them!"

"Oh, hush," Snape took out his wand again. He gave it a swish, and then the family room doors burst open as a brand new broom whooshed into the room. It began twirling and spinning, and Harry went crazy.

He jerked out of his seat with a yell and ran to the new broom, grabbing it with both hands.

"It's the broom I wanted!" he hollered. "The Axle 5000 Broom! I've been looking at in the catalogue. I've been saving up, and you got it for me! But - but you said I didn't need a new one."

"Yes, well . . ." Snape shifted in his chair and refused to say anything else, as if his mumbling was explanation enough.

"You miserable old bastard," Harry laughed. "You just want me to be happy, deliriously happy."

"Language," Snape protested weakly, but Harry was dancing around with his broom.

"The best Christmas ever, though I would have been happy without the broom."

"You would not have. You were distraught a moment ago."

"Because I know you better than anyone," Harry declared. "I knew you'd do something amazing for my first Christmas here."

"Yes, well . . ." Snape trailed off again.

"Ha-ha," Harry hugged the broom one last time. Then impulsively, he threw a leg over it and mounted it.

"Don't you dare," Snape sat up straight. "Don't you dare try to fly that inside."

Harry gave him a wicked look and then flew on the broom out of the room into the hallway. The new broom felt different than his old one. If possible, it was lighter, and it seemed more in touch with his body, responding to the lightest of movements. He didn't have to lean hard to get it to turn; he lifted up one shoulder an inch, and the broom started to veer where he wanted it to go.

"Harry Potter!" Snape roared at him, chasing him into the main entrance of the manor. "Get down immediately."

"But it's so much fun," Harry yelled. Without a second thought, he turned the broom and rode right up the stairs to the second floor.

"I'm not telling you again," Snape said from below.

Harry did a fast U-turn in the hall and came back down the stairs. "Whee!" he grinned. "It's like an amusement park ride."

"Harry," Snape reached for him, but Harry pulled away from his hand.

Then he started going in circles around Snape, edging away every time Snape lunged for him. "It's a like a carousel ride. Round and round. La-la-la! I'm getting dizzy. Wheeeee!"

"That broom will be locked up if you don't stop," Snape threatened.

"Oh, okay," Harry sighed. He yanked the top of the handle up and the broom shot him straight up to the ceiling. Once he got about fifteen feet up, Harry let go and flipped backwards in the air. His shoes landed hard on the floor, but he pulled himself up and gave an exaggerated bow. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen!"

Snape, who looked scared half to death marched over, clearly intending to reprimand his delinquent son.

"And the crowd goes wild," Harry held up his arms to an imaginary crowd. "The Potter Wizard has done it again - a perfect move of daring acrobatics. And here's Snape, who inspired Potter to become a daredevil and join the circus. Snape, wave to the crowd."

"If you ever do something that foolish again -"

"Sorry, folks, Snape's a little over-protective. Don't worry - the next stunt will take place outside!"

Harry grabbed his broom and ran to the door.

"Don't you dare go out," Snape bellowed at him. "At least take a coat! When I get my hands on you -"

Harry paused in the doorway. He ran back and threw his free arm around Snape in a quick hug. "Thank you so much, Dad."

Snape seemed to have trouble speaking. "You really must have a - a coat. And no tricks."

Harry grinned and raced for the mud room to snatch his coat.

HP& HP&HP&HP&HP

Draco came over later in the afternoon, mostly to show off his abundance of gifts from his doting mother. Draco's gifts were very nice, but they didn't hold a candle to Harry's new broom. Draco clamored to ride it, and after pretending to fight with him for a few minutes, Harry let him fly on it. Draco loved it and immediately began to come up with ways to get his mother to buy him one.

They spent most of the afternoon roasting and cracking chestnuts and gobbling down sugared gingerbread.

Draco went home about six, and Snape came in to hand Harry a note. It was from the Weasleys, asking for Harry to come have supper at their house.

"You can come too," Harry said as they went to the fireplace to use the Floo.

"I'll stay here," Snape said.

"But you should come - they wouldn't mind."

"You're very kind, but you'll have a better time without me. No fussing. After such a busy day, I will enjoy putting my feet up and having some strong tea. Come home before eleven."

Harry knew there wasn't any use in arguing, so he ducked into the fireplace and shouted "The Burrow!"

Around the worn table, the Weasley family gathered and Harry was packed in with them. Mrs. Weasley had knitted him a sweater with a great big H on it, and he slipped it on willingly. Ron was all eager to hear about his Christmas, and Harry told him about the broom, careful to gloss over it so Ron wouldn't feel too jealous.

"It's only fair," Harry went on, "that since I got a new broom, you have my Firebolt."

"What?" Ron's eyes went big. "But - but Sirius gave you that broom. You love it."

"Yeah, but he would have wanted me to give it to you since I got a new one," Harry said lightly, sipping the warm coffee Mrs. Weasley passed around. "Besides, with my new broom and you on the Firebolt, we stand a good chance of hanging Slytherin out to dry in the spring. You should have seen Malfoy's face when he saw the new broom."

Ron laughed, and no more was said about brooms though Harry made a mental note to get the Firebolt to Ron as soon as possible.

The talk was lively and entertaining, and before Harry could blink it was almost eleven and Mrs. Weasley was packing him up. She filled his arms with more food than he could possibly ever carry, and he was hugged by the whole family before ducking into the fireplace.

Back at the manor, Snape frowned at all the goodies Harry had brought; he was most disdainful over the pound of chocolate fudge that Mrs. Weasley had wrapped in paper splattered with smiling snowmen.

"She wants to rot your teeth out," Snape tsked over the treats.

"Only in a good way. And I better still have the stuff tomorrow," Harry yawned. "No snitching my candy."

"This is why Christmas is not good for children. Too many treats."

By the time Harry fell into bed around midnight, he could barely keep his eyes open when Snape came in to tell him goodnight.

"You wanted a happy Christmas," Harry squinted up at him. "Did you get your wish?"

"Every day is a happy day with you here," Snape said quietly.

Harry grinned. "Liar. You said I'm too much trouble. I don't listen, I don't follow the rules, I'm far too noisy -"

"I wouldn't have you any other way," Snape's voice sounded very choked up all of a sudden.

Harry burrowed deep into his pillow. "Under all those mean looks, you're just a big softy."

"Go to sleep, you wretched boy."

Snape squeezed his shoulder, and Harry slid into sleep thinking that this really had been the best Christmas of his life.

HP& HP&HP&HP&HP

By New Year's Eve, most of the snow had melted, and the weather was drab and cold. That morning Harry had found a black owl tapping at his window. It had a note.

Meet me at 4:00 by the forked tree in between our two houses.

Draco

Harry had crumpled the note in his pocket. Ever since Christmas Day, he had decided against sneaking out to Diagon Alley for New Year's. He still wanted to go, but he couldn't bear to hurt Snape, not after all Snape had done.

He joined Snape at breakfast and asked, "If I put on a disguise tonight, can we go see the fireworks in Diagon Alley?"

Snape flashed him a quick look, but said, "I suppose so. You aren't planning to run off? Shame - I was already outside cutting switches and ordering bars to put over your bedroom window."

"Very funny," Harry replied. "But no running away. I've changed."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Snape muttered, but he couldn't help looking a little proud.

"Can we go at nine?" Harry asked.

"How about eight, and we'll have dinner there as well?"

"Brilliant," Harry nodded. "Can I go flying this afternoon if I stay over our woods?"

"Yes, if you don't do that spiral drop you did yesterday. I nearly got nauseated watching you."

"Aw, the Tornado Twist never hurt anyone," Harry brushed his concern away. "Yes, maybe it broke that one bloke's back, but he wasn't paying attention."

Around three-thirty, Harry bundled up and flew up over the woods. He followed the path that he had taken by mistake over the summer, the path that went for sixteen miles around the property, but he dove down when he spotted the big tree.

Draco was there, waiting for him. "You ready to go?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "I changed my mind. I can't sneak out, not after what Snape's done. Sorry, I'll have to skip out on this one. Maybe next year."

"Oh, don't be such a simpering prat," Draco scoffed at him. "You have to come."

"Believe me, any other time, I would have," Harry insisted, "but not now. I won't hurt him like that - sorry."

He turned to go, but Draco said,

"Oh, I suppose that's fine. I can't blame you. Can we go flying tomorrow?"

"Of course," Harry replied.

"Thanks. Oh, do you mind grabbing my hat?"

Harry glanced down at Draco's wool cap on the ground. As he bent to grab it, he thought it was an odd choice for Draco who never wore caps. As soon as Harry's hand closed around the cap, he felt the yank of a Portkey, and he cursed his stupidity even as the Portkey dragged him down.

A second later, it spit him out in the middle of Diagon Alley. Draco was a split-second behind him.

"You sodder," Harry yelled at him as he lunged for the cap.

Draco whipped out his wand and shouted a spell that disintegrated the cap into pieces.

"Bastard," Harry advanced towards the blond, ready to pummel him to pieces.

"Wait, there are your friends," Draco pointed up ahead where Ron and Hermione were running to them.

"You made it,' Ron grinned.

"No," Harry shook his head, "No, I was tricked into coming. I told Draco I couldn't sneak out on Snape, and he tricked me into grabbing a Portkey."

"Draco!" Hermione scolded, but Ron rolled his eyes.

"What do you expect from a Slytherin?"

"Don't start that, Weasley!"

"I'm going home," Harry said. "I'm going straight home, and I'm telling Snape what really happened. Then I'm sending him after you," he pointed at Draco.

"You'd betray me?" Draco's mouth dropped open.

"In a heartbeat," Harry declared. "Now, where is a Floo I can use?"

"I'll help you find one," Hermione reached for his hand.

At the moment, lightning streaked across the gray sky that was already beginning to darken. Harry lifted his face up.

He saw the lightning split, curve around, and become the black Dark Mark high across the sky. He watched the mouth of the great skull open and the snake come out.

The world seemed to stand still, and the only sound Harry could hear was the beating of his own heart in his ears

He blinked and looked over the alley, just in time to see the black shots of smoke puff out as one Death Eater after another appeared, the masks over their faces. Two, four, eight, ten, fifteen, and more - they appeared so fast Harry lost count.

The world had stopped, and Harry said the only thing he hoped would save him, a plea for help in the midst of incredible odds.

"Snape," he whispered.

The marketplace erupted into screams of panic.