Harry and Draco had been stuck inside for the past week, as a horrendous blizzard had raged outside the manor; piling up snow nearly as tall as Harry, and keeping the owls away. Hedwig had managed to make it out before the storm had hit, but Harry had not seen her since, and he hoped she had gone somewhere safe to wait it out - like Hogwarts.

The little family had managed to keep themselves busy, decorating the parlour and their bedrooms with Christmas accessories that Harry had found one day when they had explored the upper rooms of the rambling abode. One room had been given over to holiday ornaments, for all sorts of holidays – Muggle and Wizarding. Harry was intrigued at some of the lesser holiday decorations; for instance, why did you have black and white chequered candles for an obscure holiday in May? He had just shaken his head and walked on to the largest pile, and he and his brother had floated the boxes down the stairs to the parlour they had appropriated for their Christmas celebration, and began sorting. Runeskin had managed to procure holiday greenery, and the mantles over the floos were all draped with evergreen garlands and red, puffy bows.

Candles shone under hurricane glass, and there was a candle in every window; to light Father Christmas’s way – Severus explained. Harry had never believed in Father Christmas, as much as he had wanted to when he was little. But his first Christmas with the Dursleys had killed that dream. Most children can’t remember their second and third Christmas celebrations – much less their first, but Harry couldn’t forget. He had been shoved in his cupboard while the rest of the family cooed over Dudley’s gifts, indulging the little tyke with everything that had been advertised for his age bracket on the telly. Harry had comforted himself by hugging his blanket to himself and wanting to remember what his parents looked like, crying when he realised he couldn’t.

So, when his dad had explained about the candles, Harry smiled politely but wasn’t too excited. He expected presents from his friends at school, the Weasley’s and his new family. Nothing more, and possibly less if the storm continued and the delivery owls could not make it through with their packages.

Severus noted his son’s resigned nature, and wasn’t entirely sure how to combat this turn of events. Harry seemed otherwise happy with the holiday so far; he and Draco had gotten their assignments done early, had obeyed the rules to a large extent, and then had played numerous board games to pass the time when they were not practicing their defence.

While it was true that the original Father Christmas was long gone - he had been older than Flamel when he had passed on - he had named a successor who, to this day, still visited many deserving Wizarding households, leaving the Muggle imitators to tend to the Muggles. Severus felt that if anyone deserved to have his faith restored in the magical Saint, it was Harry.

Christmas Eve, the storm had blessedly finally died down to leave the countryside shrouded in a thick blanket of white that seemed to cast a hush over the world. The boys had stared awestruck at the sight from the conservatory where the demarcation line stood taller than they were, against the glass windows.

The house-elves had outdone themselves with the food that day, serving three large meals that had all of Draco and Harry’s favourites amongst them. After dinner, Severus told them to get ready for bed, and then return to the parlour. While they were gone, he had opened the upper window to let the flock of owls in then had flooed the headmaster.

“Yes Severus, Richard has agreed to come by – he should be arriving at your place in the next half hour; don’t ask me how – he has his ways. Happy Christmas, my boy, and please, let the children know I wish them well.”

“Thank you, Albus, I will pass on your sentiments.” He pulled his head out of the fire just in time to see his sons troop into the room. Harry’s eyes brightened when he saw Hedwig on the back of the sofa, preening her feathers.

“Hey, girl!” he said as he hurried over to her, reaching out a finger to stroke her breast, which she affectionately nipped. Harry looked at all the owls perched around the room, realising that they all carried parcels. Draco had already begun to relieve them of their burdens and Harry and Severus went to help. One by one the owls left the house except Hedwig who stayed perched on the sofa and had fallen asleep. The boys placed the packages under the tree, barely containing their curiosity. Severus smirked to himself as he heard a loud knocking coming from the main doors. Runeskin had managed to clear off the area around the Great Doors in the afternoon in preparation for tonight’s guest.

“Dad, who would be knocking at this time of night?” Harry asked. “I thought you said no one could find us here.” He appeared wary, and was looking to Severus for reassurance.

“Let’s go see, shall we?” Severus led the cautious twelve-year olds to the vestibule where he nodded at the waiting Runeskin to open the door at the third set of summons. Harry and Draco peered around Severus, fingering their wands, as a very old man in an antique set of Bishop’s robes, complete with crosier and mitred hat, carrying a brown sack, entered the house. Outside, the boys caught a glimpse of a beautiful white stallion stamping his hoofs on the cleared off bricks. With each stamp of a hoof, they could hear a ringing sound, as if someone had struck a silver bell.

Severus walked forward, stretching out his hand to the Bishop as the young wizards relaxed their stance. “Your Excellency, welcome to our home this evening. I thank you for taking the time to visit with us,” the Potions master said graciously.

“Thank you, my son. Albus let me know that my services were needed this evening.” He angled his head to look beyond his host to the two boys standing gobsmacked in the centre of the hall. “Harry, Draco, it is good to see you both healthy and hearty. Are you excited for tomorrow morning?”

“Oh, yes, sir!” Draco gushed and Harry looked askance at his brother. Draco never acted this way around adults – except for Severus. Harry couldn’t figure the other boy out – he was acting like he was seven! Bishop Richard walked slowly toward the children.

“And you, Harry, are you excited?” he asked Harry a second time.

Harry bit his lip as he eyed the man. He looked friendly enough, Severus seemed to trust him, and his brother was over the moon with excitement; but Harry wasn’t quite sure what was going on and he took a step back. Richard halted his progress.

“Ah, I see, still wary of strangers. Very good, my son; do you know who I am, Harry?”

Harry shook his head. He knew very well whom the man was supposed to represent, but he didn’t personally know this man, so he had answered in the negative.

“I was told that you have never believed in Father Christmas, Harry, and I’m here to prove to you that I really do exist,” he gently explained.

Harry looked confused, then angry at the thought that his family considered him that gullible. “Sir, how can that be? You’re just a rented Father Christmas, right? Like the ones who came to my primary school when I was little? Your fancy dress is better than theirs, but if you were really Father Christmas, you would have come to me a long time ago,” he accused, but a slight doubt niggled at the back of his mind: if this was a fake, why had he come on a horse that had silver-shod hooves?

“But I am the real Father Christmas – or rather his successor. Bishop Nicolas passed on several centuries ago and passed the onus of his passion on to me. I am Bishop Richard, a wizard and the second Father Christmas. I am sorry about never having visited you before, son, but I can only visit wizarding households. That is the extent of my magic, and I must be invited.”

“Oh,” Harry said, realising that his relatives would never have qualified, and even if they had, they would never have invited Bishop Richard into their normal home.

“Now, shall we retire to your parlour and see what I have for you in my bag?” He smiled at Harry, and Harry felt as if someone had given him a huge cup of hot chocolate - the smile was so warm and inviting. Harry nodded and led the group down the hall to the parlour.

Richard took a seat on a straight-backed chair, his crook standing freely next to it. He pulled the bag forward and unwound the simple hempen rope that had kept the wide opening closed. The two boys sat on the floor at his feet, perched on soft pillows. Hedwig had awoken when they had come in, taken one look at the kindly old man and, when he had stood up his crosier, had flown to it and grabbed it with her talons, settling her wings down and resuming her nap. Everyone had chuckled at her as a younger elf had brought in refreshments for everyone, including a huge plate of decorated Christmas cut-out biscuits.

“Now, Draco, I believe this is for you,” said the current Father Christmas. He pulled out a small box wrapped in shiny paper with a green ribbon and bow. Draco took it with a polite “Thank you,” and quickly untied the bow. Inside, buried beneath a layer of tissue paper, was a medallion. On one side was inscribed a complicated labyrinth and on the other was a Chinese Dragon, that chased it’s own tail as it wound around the edge of the medallion surrounding a centre cabochon ruby. The piece was strung on strong chain that Draco used to lift it out of the box. Harry could feel the slumbering power of the magic in the amulet from where he sat.

“It’s beautiful, sir,” Draco murmured as he gazed at his present.

Severus quirked an eyebrow at the Bishop in a questioning gesture. Richard indulged him by speaking to Draco.

“That amulet, Draco, is a powerful warding charm. I would advise you wear it at all times. It protects from harmful influences and attacks. The labyrinth on the back is a focus tool to help you meditate. The catch that the amulet is hanging from is also a stylus and can be used to help you trace your path through the maze from the outer edge to the centre.” Draco looked closer at the top of the medallion and discovered the mechanism that released the stylus. It was quite clever and could not come loose on its own – it needed to be physically manipulated. When he had lifted the stylus up, he discovered it was made of ebony and fit into the grooves of the maze perfectly. “Brilliant,” he said as he began to trace the path, but Severus reached out a hand and laid it on top of his godson’s, stilling the movement.

“Later, Dragon. Put it away for now,” he gently chided. Draco reluctantly nodded his head, put the medallion back together and hung the chain around his neck. A warmth, not unlike having his Godfather hug him, suffused his body as he could feel the magic of the amulet key into his own power.

Bishop Richard reached into his bag again and pulled out another box, this one with holes on the top of it, and handed it to Harry. “I think you will find this gift to be a practical one, but with a hidden… sting… to it.” Harry cocked his head sideways as he considered the man’s statement and gingerly opened the lid. Inside, on a nest of fragrant shavings, was a small patterned snake, much like the cobra from earlier in the month, only in miniature. She had been sleeping, but as the soft candlelight hit her, she woke up. She hissed at the sight of Harry, but he hissed back reassuringly and she flowed out of the box, coiling her small body around his wrist.

“She says her name is Silicia,” he announced to the stunned room. Richard smiled gently as he looked upon the happy child.

“She is related to the cobra you rescued, Harry.” Draco coloured a bright red at the reminder of his folly. “That cobra actually came from a zoo in India and she was able to go back last week. Silicia was from her hatching this past spring and her mother wanted you to have a snake that you could bond to, and who would guard you in your future journeys,” the Bishop explained. Harry looked up at him gratefully as he stroked a finger along the top of her head.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll take care of her.”

“I’m sure you will, my son. Now, what do you boys say to some treats?” He pulled a wand out of his sleeve and waved it at the tree, causing bags of goodies, candies and small toys to hang from the branches.

“Yes!” Draco exclaimed as he positioned himself underneath one side. “Harry, you have to go to the other side of the tree, hurry!” he insisted. Harry shrugged his shoulders, but scooted over to sit opposite of his god-brother. When Father Christmas was sure they were ready he sent a cutting charm around the tree and the conjured pair of scissors circled around, snipping each bag to fall at the boys’ feet. Harry caught on quickly and grabbed as many as he could within his reach, laughing with Draco as they repeatedly tried to grab the same bags. They both ended up with a reasonable pile each, and Severus vanished the little gifts to their rooms where they could indulge later.

The Bishop, meanwhile, had finished his chocolate and biscuits and finally rose up from his chair, taking possession of his crosier, after gently moving Hedwig to Harry’s arm. “Severus, thank you for your hospitality, but I must take my leave. I have several other houses to visit this evening. I enjoyed meeting your family.”

Severus shook the proffered hand. “I appreciate you taking the time to visit, Bishop Richard. I know my sons are grateful as well.” Harry and Draco both hurried to reassure the kindly man of their appreciation and he allowed Severus to walk him back to the porch and his waiting steed. Harry and Draco watched as the stallion took off into the night, running faster than any horse they had ever seen, until he became a blur against the night. But Harry thought he could still hear the ringing of the hooves echoing back to him.

“Merlin!” Harry exclaimed as they closed the Great Doors, and headed back to the parlour to clean up.

“Close,” Severus deadpanned. “I believe Richard is related to both Merlin and Saint Nicolas.”

Harry’s eyes widened at that announcement, and it give him quite the food for thought as he collected Silicia and took her to his room. She told him she wanted to sleep near him so as to make the bond as strong as it could be.

**And you should carry me around as much as possible, as well,** she advised her new master.

Harry took her advice seriously, and she slept curled up next to him on his pillow as he dreamed of racing white horses with sterling silver hooves, candies that fell from trees, talking snakes, and kindly old men dressed as Bishops spreading their blessings all over the world. Harry had finally rediscovered part of the magic of Christmas.

****

The next morning, Harry found a sock, stuffed full of Christmas treats, hanging from the mantel in his sitting area. It seemed as if the treats were never-ending, but they did - eventually - stop pouring out. Silicia curled up in the pocket of his dressing gown as he headed down to the parlour, sucking on a red whip. Severus was already there, fully dressed in casual attire and reading the Prophet. Draco wasn’t far behind Harry, and his gift from Father Christmas was already hanging from his neck.

“Good Morning, Uncle Sev, Harry,” said the blond as he joined them on the sofa. “May we open presents, Uncle Sev?” he asked, excitedly.

Severus set aside the folded paper, and looked down at the child sitting next to him. “I suppose…” Any other snide remark he was going to make was lost as the two apprentices sprung from the sofa and landed in front of the pile of brightly wrapped gifts, on their knees. Severus just shook his head, but a grin did suffuse his features as he watched Harry and Draco squeal in glee at the gifts they had received from him, the teachers, and friends.

Harry had received an eagle-feather quill from Hermione, a book on Quidditch from Ron, and a huge care package from the Weasley’s, which included a hand-knitted sweater from Ron’s mum, tricks from the twins – which Severus almost confiscated, but instead told Harry not to bring them within twenty yards of his classroom, or they would be liberated from his possession – and baked goods from Ginny. Draco had given him a stack of new Journals, as the old one from Whitney was nearly full. These were leather bound blank books, with a self-inking quill for the writing. Inside the front flyleafs was the poem they had adopted as their own. Severus’ first gift to Harry had been a complete set of Dowripple’s Defence Manuals, the premier manual used by the Auror corp. Harry could have lost himself in those volumes for the rest of the day, they were so full of interesting theory and practical defence techniques.

Some Slytherins had sent some presents to Draco – although Severus had taken the precaution of making sure they were safe before placing them under the tree. He’d had to discretely banish three that had been hexed or cursed. But Draco hadn’t suffered in the present department and he seemed grateful for all that he found that Christmas morning.

Severus was quite pleased with the gifts the boys had gotten him of the cauldron stuffed with rare ingredients and manuals, and Draco seemed happy with Harry’s gift of a protection cloak for him. Harry had given Severus a huge hug when he had opened his additional gift of rare potions ingredients to supplement his school kit, as well as a small album of pictures of Severus with Lily. There weren’t many, but he had found a few, and had duplicated them for Harry to treasure.

Harry had run his hands reverently over the leather cover before opening it and slowly turned the pages, soaking in each picture. Draco had gone over to sit by Harry’s side, hugging him as they looked at the album together. Harry leaned a head on his brother’s shoulder and Severus noted that although the boys were quite opposite in looks, they did mesh well together.

Severus cleared his throat to get their attention. “Draco, you still have a gift to open from me. Actually, you could back-handedly call it a gift from Lucius.”

Draco looked very confused at this, as Severus handed him a scroll. “Harry and I have been trying to get the courts to declare Lucius an unfit father – and he rather pre-empted us by disowning you. So, my solicitor filed the adoption papers instead, and the court – based on the testimony we were going to use to gain custody – granted the petition late last night.” Severus looked gently into the eyes of his godson that were starting to fill with tears. “Welcome to the family, Draco – you are now and forever a Snape.” Both boys gasped in wonderment before Harry jumped up and began jigging around the room, whooping in pure happiness, while Severus found himself nearly buried under a blond twelve-year old who was laughing and crying at the same time while hugging his new father as hard as he could. Severus returned the hug, tenfold, patting his child on the back.

“I’m so grateful, Uncle… Dad!” Draco said when he had regained most of his composure and had settled down on the sofa, leaning up against Severus’ side. “I’m starting to finally feel safe,” he confided.

“I’m glad, Son. Now, let’s celebrate this fine Christmas with breakfast, shall we?” The boys agreed and they repaired to the dining room for a lavish breakfast that Runeskin, and his fellow house-elves, had cooked. Harry was happy to find out that his nutritive potion was also completed at this meal and he gladly returned the bottle to his father. After a year and a half, he was finally going to find out what pumpkin juice really tasted like!

He put some in a saucer for Silicia and she lapped up a little, declaring it was interesting – but she would rather have some meat. He handed her some diced up sausage and she pronounced that barely passable, preferring fresh meat instead – but she thought she could learn to like this substitute. Harry chuckled and left her to her own devices as he finished his own heaping plate of food.

When they were all finished, the two brothers returned to the parlour but Severus headed to his lab – claiming he wanted to get some work done. Draco pulled a chess set over in front of the floo, and the two played by firelight all morning, Draco giving Harry a good thrashing on the playing board.

“You’re almost as good as Dad,” Harry pointed out as they put the charmed pieces away.

“Who do you think taught me?” he stated. “He began teaching me when I was three.”

Harry frowned at that and slouched over to sit under the tree, his new familiar winding herself around his wrist. Draco carefully sat next to him, placing a hand on Harry’s knee.

“What’s the matter?” he asked gently.

“I don’t know if it is something the matter, per se,” Harry slowly explained after a lengthy pause. “It’s just that I realized you’ve known Dad all your life… like – like a son should know his father, and that…” he shook his head; he couldn’t express in words his mixed-up feelings that had overwhelmed him a moment ago.

But Draco was much more observant than he let on to people and he saw what Harry couldn’t say. “You’re afraid that now that I’m his real son, too, that you’ll be supplanted in his heart? Harry, that’s daft! How can you think that? He loves us both. So what if I’ve known him longer, you two have a bond that I could never hope to attain – merely by being blood related. And I’m not jealous of that!” he put up a hand to forestall Harry’s protests. “You need that bond, Harry. Really, truly, it is just as special as the familiarity I have with him.”

“You think so? I don’t know… I’m happy to have you as a real brother, and a Snape; don’t get me wrong, but it changes the family dynamics.”

“In a good way, I think!” Draco snorted, a slight haughtiness returning to his features as Harry bumped his shoulder against him in reproof. Draco grinned and pushed back, only to topple his brother over. Draco was over him quick as a flash, tickling Harry’s ribs as his brother tried vainly to find a tickle spot on Draco.

“Hah!” Draco declared, “I have no tickle spots – I can turn it off!”

Harry gasped for breath as Draco finally let up, only to collapse back on the floor – his head cushioned by Harry’s stomach.

“Huh? No one can turn off a tickle response,” Harry stated firmly. “I mean… isn’t that some sort of automatic response, or something?”

“I can. I’ve been able to for quite some time,” Draco stated flatly

“Why?”

“Do you really want to know?” Draco asked, a clear warning in his voice that Harry may not like the answer.

“Yeah, I do,” came the reply.

Draco was quiet for a moment before answering. “Lucius used to use Rictumsempra as a punishment when I was younger, tickling until I lost control of myself; you know, my bladder… It was humiliating, to say the least. So, I learned to turn it off. Which was the whole point of it, anyways: learning how to control your body and its responses to stimuli.” He moved his head so he could look at Harry. “I told you, I’m as messed up in the head as you are – just differently.”

Harry rolled his head to gaze at his brother, reaching a hand out to grasp Draco’s in sympathy. “That’s horrible; taking something fun and turning it into a punishment…” he stopped himself though as an upraised eyebrow and a squeeze of the hand from Draco reminded Harry that Vernon had essentially done the same thing when Harry had only been nine.

“So, I bet you’re immune to the curse?” Harry finally asked, he was remembering the few times he had thrown it at the other boy in practice – only to have it quickly deflected, or appearing to have little affect at all.

“Pretty much. Even if it is thrown at me out of the blue, I can control my response rather quickly, thus overcoming it.”

“Don’t you have any place where you’re still ticklish?” Harry queried, frankly curious.

Draco hemmed and hawed for a moment before admitting, “Yeah, I do. But I’m not going to tell you.”

A challenging glint came to Harry’s eyes as he listened. “So, is that an offer to have me discover where your one tickle spot – that you can’t turn off – is?”

Draco just shrugged his shoulders, but still grinned down at his brother. “You’ll never find it,” he declared.

“Oh, I take that as a Dare. And what do I win if I discover this reluctant spot?” Harry teased.

“More than you bargained for…” warned the blond. He gave his brother’s hand one more slight squeeze, then got up and left the room.