A fiery headed teen stood facing him. Looks of anger, and resolute were painted bold on her face. He swallowed as he murmured "Lily, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it. Please forgive me!"

"Save it Severus, I have nothing left to say to you! You Death Eater apprentice! You are just like the rest of your housemates!" The girl's emerald eyes flashed in a way he never wanted to see, hate, pure hatred. A peculiar, gut-wrenching ache settled in his stomach as he tried to think of anything that would change his friend's mind.

"Lily, please, please you have to listen to me. Let me explain!" His eyes filled with tears even as he tried to squelch them.

"I have to do no such thing, Snape."

The Fat Lady glared at the Slytherin as the portrait slammed in his face.

"Noo!" The howl of a broken man, the anguish of a child arose in the air as he cursed his very existence.

Severus jerked awake.

"Lily," he said, his voice filled with longing. It was no use. Lily was never coming back.

He never had the chance to apologize again, to explain. Severus' prior treatment of her son would have earned him another lifetime in Hell as far as his former best friend was concerned, but maybe he could change the little boy's fate. Neglect and abuse could condemn a child but he refused to let Harry go down that route. The boy would know how it felt to be cared for. He did not kid himself though. He was a harsh man and set in his ways. It would take time for his attitude to change, if ever it did so completely. He would try but change was never one thing he could adapt to easily. Then there was the child, would the boy, who was obviously uncared for at home, be able to give him his trust? Or were the emotional wounds too deep to heal? Only time would reveal the answer.

Severus had a secret, one Lily had not even known. Oh, he tried to tell her, or at least have the Headmaster inform her. What a difference it would have made if only she had known. He had never been a loyal Death Eater. Never. No way in Hell would he have chosen to serve a depraved psychopath.

It was all the Headmaster's idea; Severus was only a pawn. Albus needed a spy to infiltrate the ranks of Voldermort, but one that Dumbledore was sure would never give into the tempting allure of Dark Magic. He came to Severus when he was only a fifth year, promising Severus refuge from his abusive father if only he fulfilled this little deal as he had put it.

Severus had done his part, played the role he was expected to perform but the Headmaster made excuses. He could not find him a home, nor could he stay at the castle during the summer holidays. In short, Severus was now a slave to both masters. True, he had more respect for his employer but only just. He had to perform dastardly acts as a spy, ones that still haunted him after ten years away from active duty. When there was even one other person around, he even had to still think that he had been a loyal Death Eater. Very rarely he allowed himself to dwell on the truth.

The spy's ears registered the dong of five bells. Soon it would be dawn, and Christmas with all its fuss would be here, but until that time, he would rest. Resting his head on the back of the chair, he allowed his eyes to fall shut.

A wisp of memory long forgotten tore through the master occlumen's brain.

"My faithful followers, I have a new order for you. It occurred to me while we were on our last raid that while ridding the world of mudbloods and filthy muggles alike, we should assure the future with more faithful blood. Therefore, men, you will each donate your seed to the British Wizarding Fertility Clinic. The pathetic lot will not know they are raising a future Death Eater, but as you are my loyal followers, surely any children you sire will be as loyal." The pale face of his more sinister master widened into an ugly smile.

Having no other option, Severus had complied to keep both of his masters at bay. He had, though, made one provision that with a spot of luck neither would learn. A small whirl of soft white, black and brown colors and he found himself in his dreary home.

"Annie!" A three-foot skinny house elf wearing a smock with a Snake curled in an "S" crest emblazed on it appeared before the young man.

"What's can Annie be's doing for young master?"

"I need you do me a favor, put a house elf charm on this sample that will automatically notify me if anything ever befalls the subject. The charm cannot be traceable by any wizard, do you understand?"

Annie bobbed her head, her auburn hair flying to the air and falling back again. "Yes sirs, right aways!" The dream then faded and refocused.

He watched himself pick up something and walk to the cashier, and rush to the door. The dream abruptly ended.

SESESE

Brilliant streams of light reflecting off the blanket of snow filtered into the Hospital Wing and Harry's eyelids, causing him to stir from his potions-induced haze. Everything was blurry to him and it took him a second to remember his glasses.

Then other memories flooded his mind. The fall. The news, a great dam of memories that his sleeping mind had blissfully forgotten. In his drugged up state, he had almost simply taken the news as granite, as law. Now, though, he expected he was still doped up a bit, he was not as trusting. Oh, he knew that the Mediwitch knew her stuff but no way could he believe the outrageous thought that he'd never walk again! And even if, and it was a big if, he was truly paralyzed, miracles do happen, so no, he wasn't going to give up. He was a Gryffindor for crying out loud!

He had a vague memory of Snape, the hater of all things Gryffindor, being nice to him, ha the git probably just wanted to butter him up with kindness before making him a laughing stock to his precious Slytherins. He couldn't remember how he acted to Snape earlier in the night, but he would show him that Harry was no fool.

It was highly frustrating that he couldn't see worth a Knut. Even more annoying was that he couldn't even get his glasses with his hands enclosed in the thick white casts. If only he had his glasses and then he could see and maybe he could get down to business at proving the professors wrong. He would do about anything to be able to see.

Though Harry was nearly blind, his hearing was finely tuned and a swoosh of air...or of magic swept through his ears and a soft thud hit his face bringing the world into focus. His glasses! His glasses...had he performed accidental magic again or had he wandlessly and wordlessly summoned them?

Maybe he had, and maybe not. Harry knew both magics were possible. Dumbledore and Snape used loads in the brief time that he had been at Hogwarts, but him? He was eleven years old, and an untrained wizard at that! It was possible, but not very likely, so it must have been accidental.

Hearing a disturbance, his first reaction was to try and look for the source; instead he felt an unnatural stiffness that didn't allow for any movement. In fact the stiffness circled his whole neck and at places, the stiffness was replaced by steeped pain. He had forgotten the stupid brace and halo that he laid trapped in. However, he could still move his eyes and what he saw out of the corners astonished him. His Potions professor was seemingly asleep yet rubbing one of cast-covered arms. Harry was torn, should he snap at his oily teacher, demand that he let go of his arm, or should he ignore it and hope that the teacher moved soon? If there was one thing that Harry hated, it was to be touched. He counted to 500, hoping that the teacher would awaken and simply let go. No such luck as 500 came and the professor still lay asleep running his hand on his cast.

" Snape?" Harry coughed loudly.

"Hmm...oh hello, Harry. How are you feeling?" his professor glanced at him while standing up to stretch.

"Fine. Whatever you think, I'm not paralyzed! I can't be. I'll get up and be able to walk, I will!" Harry was sure. If he could survive a deadly curse and only end up with a jagged scar, then there was no way an accident could paralyze him. He would not allow some meddling mediwitch and a greasy git to tell him otherwise.

His teacher moved into his line of vision better and inclined his head.

Harry noticed that he didn't respond to his angry declaration but instead his corners of his mouth turned up, the slightest wisp of a smile. Harry's frown deepened, was the bullying teacher making fun of him? Instead, his teacher ghosted his hand over the top of his head and spoke.

"It's Christmas Day Harry. I'm afraid I have nothing to give you, but a house elf left you some gifts here." What the heck, it was Christmas? Harry knew that it was close to Christmas, but he had not realized that it was the actual day. Then again his brain was still foggy with unnatural sleep, so he wondered what else he could be missing.

Harry watched as Snape made a waving motion with his hand and a table followed by several packages floated through the air. A twist of his professor's hand and the presents gracefully floated down to the table with a soft thud.

"Presents? For me?" his eyes widened with surprise. Who would have thought he'd get presents? Sure, Dudley got presents, his parents overloaded the entire house when it was his birthday, or Christmas or for any reason actually. Harry himself though had never gotten anything. Then it dawned on him, and he felt like slapping himself. If the Slytherin Dungeon Bat was giving him presents then they must be hexed. Of course, the teacher would never claim to actually give the Boy Who Lived presents; he would say they were from someone else. That way if Dumbledore found out that they were hexed, then Snape only had to claim that they weren't from him.

He noticed the studious look he received from the professor, an expression he had seen the Slytherin wear when dissecting a rather strange potions ingredient. It quickly was erased as his expression once again settled into something that resembled cheerful. Harry couldn't decide, he had never seen the professor use any other expression except anger or if his memory served him correctly, in the case of the prior night, worry.

Snape picked up a bundle wrapped in a brown lumpy sack tied off with a bright red ribbon. He made an attempt to hand it to Harry and then paused. "Would you like me to open it for you?"

"I don't want them." Harry watched as Snape stared at him in confusion, a rather bemusing expression for the man, he thought idly.

"But, Harry, they are from your friends, you want to see what they got you, don't you?"

"I'd just as soon not be hexed, thank you very much," Harry spat, rolling his eyes, the only part of his body he could move.

"Harry, they aren't hexed." Snape sighed and fingered his wand. Was he going to do something to him, as if being hurt wasn't enough? Instead his professor spoke, "Would you believe me if I cast, Revealo which will show any magical tampering?

Harry hesitated, he did sort of want to open the presents, and he had heard Hermione use that spell, so he knew it was legit. "Yes." A muttered revealo later and each of the presents were proved to have no lingering spells.

Snape again turned to Harry, "'Now would you like me to open your gifts for you?"

"No. I can do it myself." Harry snapped. He was already sick of people treating him like an invalid, incapable of the easiest of tasks.

"Fine then, here's one from Miss Granger." The present was placed near his left arm. Harry wondered for a moment the dilemma of removing the paper with his cast-covered hands. He attempted to get a grip on the present with the tips of his fingers that were not in the casts. Nothing for it though, as his fingers had trouble gripping the square-like package. He tried again. And again. Still nothing worked. Harry grew angry once more. This whole situation was totally unfair. He couldn't even open a ruddy Christmas present without trouble! And to add the Greasy Git to witness his weakness, that was just the pudding after dinner! He wanted to scream, he longed to yell from the top of the astronomy tower that the mediwitch and Snape were liers that he'd walk again soon. He wished to have the luxury of being a toddler and throwing a full-body on the floor temper tantrum. Most of all though, he wished he could cry. With all his might, he flung his arm out, striking the present. It fell to the floor harmlessly. Christmas could go hang for all he cared.

SESESESE

Severus was more than unsettled. Before allowing his anger to take hold of him, the child had seemed genuinely surprised that he received presents. Had no one ever shown him mercy and kindness? Though a strict man, the Slytherin could overlook a pre-teen tantrum. The child had far too much on his plate and needed to have some leeway, though he knew that there would eventually have to be a constructive outlet for his anger. At the moment, Severus was willing to ignore the child's attitude, venting was most likely healthy. He glanced over at the Gryffindor student and noticed that his eyes seemed to be growing glossy. The child was retreating; he had seen it before with his students. Unable to handle strenuous events, they withdrew into themselves, an unconscious self-preservation act.

He kept a steady eye on the boy as he bent down and picked up the present. He set it with the others on the bed side table to await Harry; he would definitely want them later. His gaze fell to the pair of green mittens lying on the table. He had given them to a drug-sedated Harry mere hours ago. There was still a mystery there; the innocent green mittens, whether the old set Harry had owned or this new set, both affected him. A nagging, persistent urging that insisted he remember something, he only wished that he could. Knowing that Harry was paying him no attention, he reached and picked one of the mittens up, turning it over and over in his hand. A memory tore through him, knocking him down to his knees. A little boy with weather-abused hands, a look of longing on the child's face. He remembered it all. The young child he had helped two years ago and the one currently laying fragile in bed were one and the same.

He gingerly arose to his feet, walked the short distance to the chair he had occupied all night and sat. It was time to bring Harry to the present. "Harry." The boy showed no sign of hearing him. "Harry, time to return now." Weary, pain-filled eyes met his own.

"I don't want anything to do with you, with them-"he gestured to the presents, "with anything!" Though the words were defiant, it was all too obvious that his attitude was a mask, his voice squeaked with repressed tears. Severus attempted to think of anything that would show the eleven-year old that he cared but allow for the space the young Gryffindor desired. He thought to his own childhood days and knew just what to do. Casting a spell, he waited.

SESESESE

Harry eyed the professor, he didn't want to know what Snape was doing, he didn't! It was simply survival skills that had him following the teacher with his gaze. He wasn't really interested in whatever the teacher was casting. Not one little bit. Unable move his head and follow with his eyes, he listened to a soft thud as the wooden door creaked open. He saw a small rectangular shape fly through the air and fall into Snape's awaiting hands. Before he could comment on the shape that he now recognized as a book, the Slytherin open the well-weathered book. "Marley was dead: to begin with." His teacher read aloud as Harry closed his eyes. He would not listen, he simply wouldn't allow himself to be drawn in, only the weak allowed them to be fooled. Harry wasn't weak and he certainly wasn't a fool. His teacher read on, seemingly oblivious to Harry's inattention. Still, despite all his trying, he could not help but listen to the story, after all, Snape didn't have to know he was listening, right?

He wouldn't allow himself to dwell on it, but he felt sad but oddly comforted when his teacher at least read, "And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!" They lapsed into a mutual silence and Harry was startled when Snape spoke again. "That Harry was "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens, a classic and my favorite childhood book."

For the first time in several hours, Harry allowed his eyes to meet his professor's. Oh, he was still angry and determined that everyone was wrong and he'd walk again but he made no refusal when Snape again placed his hand upon his shoulder. "Happy Christmas Harry."