Harry didn't think he had seen anything more beautiful than Diagon Alley at Christmas. All the shop owners went all out with their decorations and the street fairly glowed in a beautiful array of coloured lights. Everywhere one could see there was live holly and fragrant wreaths of pine, bayberry, and cinnamon hung on many doors that added to the delicious smells of the season.

The most spectacular shop and the first one Harry wanted to visit was Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. Colourful bubbles emerged from the shop and beside the front door was a clockwork statue in the form of Merlin. Harry was practically dragging his father by his hand to the shop of the prankster twins.

"Must I go in there, Harry?" Snape rolled his eyes over-dramatically.

"Oh please, Daddy? It's not that bad." He gave his father his best wide-eyed, puppy dog look.

Snape scowled, and crossed his arms over his chest. "I see Mr. Weasley still persists in teaching you useless expressions to try and manipulate me."

Harry huffed. "How come they work on Ron's dad, then?"

"Because Arthur has been thoroughly worn down by six sons and one daughter; all of them manipulative, little, miscreants." Snape opened the door to the shop and when Harry looked questioningly at his father, he smirked mildly. "Didn't you wish for me to go in with you?" Snape held out his hand and Harry grabbed it so they both could walk in together.

"The Snapes!" called out Fred.

"Welcome Professor Snape and Harry," greeted George.

Harry didn't hear the twins as all his senses were dazzled by the many different products. Snape and the twins watched in varying degrees of amusement as Harry floated amongst the different displays and products.

"See that look on his face, Professor," said Fred.

"People have accused us of being fools accomplishing nothing," continued George.

"But we ask you, Professor, is that nothing?" smiled Fred.

Snape said nothing to Fred and George, but he had to admit that the look of bliss and wonder on his son's face was worth all the galleons in Gringotts.

Christmas morning, Harry was up before the sun. He slipped his feet into his slippers, tossed on his bathrobe, and ran out into the sitting room to see the tree. Gaily wrapped packages shone like gemstones under the tree and Harry jumped up and down. He then ran to his father's room, pushed through the door, and launched himself onto the bed.

"Father Christmas came! Daddy! Father Christmas came and brought presents!"

Snape exploded out from under his covers and captured the madly bouncing boy in his strong embrace and began tickling him. Harry squealed and tried to escape, but it was impossible so he tried another tactic; giving up. He threw his arms around his father's neck and kissed his cheek.

"Daddy, you have to get up. Father Christmas DID come!"

Snape kissed Harry's brow. "Breakfast first, Harry, then presents. Now, go wash up while I check and see if the house elfs are even awake, yet."

"Hurry, Daddy!" Harry wriggled off the bed and ran back to his room and into his bathroom to wash up for breakfast.

Snape fell back on his pillows and laid a hand over his heart which was still beating rapidly from his frightening wake up call.

"That child will have me in my grave before I see a single grey hair!"

The free house elf Dobby was awake and put together a very prodigious breakfast for the Snapes of bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, fruit, and pastries in the shape of Christmas trees. As Harry ate, his green-eyed gaze kept darting towards the presents and then to his father who was being agonisingly and deliberately slow as he read his morning newspaper and drank his coffee. What Harry didn't see was that every time Harry's look went to the tree, Snape was stealing a glance at his son and smirking to himself.

"Harry, maybe we should get dressed and go for a walk before we open presents," suggested Snape, his black eyes glittering with his teasing.

Harry's jaw dropped open. He was about to protest when his father's flat look darkened considerably. "Aww, okay." With his shoulders practically drooping down to his knees, Harry shuffled towards his bedroom. As he passed his father, a long arm shot out and snatched him up. The little boy squeaked and then giggled.

"Presents, Harry!" chuckled Snape as he let his son go.

The little boy nearly dove for the first present and the next half hour was a flurry of shiny, torn paper, bows, and ribbons.

Hermione gave Harry a sketch journal and an Always Inked Drawing Quill that she'd spelled so it would shrink and enlarge using a password. Draco had gotten Harry a stuffed Opaleye Dragon that was spelled to fly around the room and Ron gave Harry a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. He received a knit jumper from Molly, and colourful socks from Dumbledore.

Just when Harry was getting worn out by all the unwrapping, he climbed onto his father's knee and leaned his back against Snape's chest. He then dropped his head back against his father who brushed away several strands of hair that obscured his face. Harry's black hair was behaving much better now that its length had increased. It brushed his shoulders and curled slightly at the ends.

"Are you happy with everything, Harry," asked Snape.

"This is the best Christmas ever, Daddy. Are you happy?" He leaned against the arm that was wrapped around him.

"Very." Snape shifted slightly getting more comfortable with his son on his lap.

Snape would never have imagined being where he was today just several months ago. He had always felt that when the Dark Lord was finally destroyed, he would follow as well. It was his destiny. There had been a prophecy...

He should have known better. Snape had never held much stock in prophecies but Dumbledore had been so convinced that he'd allowed himself to be drawn in as well. What both men should have learned early on was that nothing could be predicted with Harry Potter. By the prophecy, Harry should have met his destiny when he was a fully trained wizard in his seventh year. Who knew that not only would Voldemort underestimate the still fledgling wizard, but so would the damned prophecy? The Dark Lord was gone forever and as for Snape... he was now the loving father of Harry Potter.

Harry felt his father's chest rumbling with the restrained mirth he preferred to outright laughter. He smiled and craned his head back further to look at the smirk on the man's face, and the smile in his black eyes. Harry grinned.

Snape gave Harry one of his rare, true smiles, kissed his forehead, and then looked over at the Christmas tree. "Harry, I do believe you missed a present."

"No I didn't, I..." he looked at the tree and was astonished to see a slim present wrapped in green, shiny paper and tied with silver ribbon. "That wasn't there before."

"Are you certain?" asked Snape. He nudged the child off his lap. "Better see who it's from, Harry."

Harry picked up the gift and saw the little parchment tag that had the name of the giver on it. The word was one of the first words Hermione had taught him. "It's from you, Daddy!"

Snape leaned forward in his chair to watch as his son ripped the paper off the gift to reveal a six year old sized broom. Harry jumped up and down and let out an excited shout.

"My own broom! Thank you, Daddy!"

Snape explained the various aspects of the Junior Firebolt to Harry. The little boy was just a tiny bit disappointed that the broom was charmed to fly no higher than two feet, but he loved it.

"Daddy, I know you think I forgot to get something for you, but I didn't. Will you stay here?"

Curious, Snape seated himself in his chair and watched as Harry trotted to his bedroom. It was several minutes before Harry emerged and when he did he was carrying a large piece of thick paper. Standing in front of his father, he held it out timidly. As soon as Snape took it, Harry clenched his hands behind his back as he waited for his father's opinion of his gift.

Harry had painted a portrait of himself and his father in the Potions classroom. At first look, the Snape in the portrait, standing over the little boy working on a potion, appeared stone-faced and prepared to snap some caustic remark at the child. However, there was a softness in the dark eyes that were clearly pride. The Potions Master also had a gentle hand upon the boy's shoulder.

The Harry in the portrait appeared to be concentrating solely on his work, but there was a smile of contentment on his face as he felt his father's hand on his shoulder.

Snape knew that Harry was uncommonly talented when it came to his paints, crayons, and pencils. This portrait, was by far, the best he'd ever done. The warmth in his heart and soul was almost painful as he thought of Harry working on this painting... just for him.

"Harry, this is truly the best Christmas present I've ever received," exclaimed Snape.

Harry's cheeks flushed crimson and his smile beamed almost as brightly as the fairy lights on the tree.

"You really, really like it?"

"It is magnificent, Harry." Snape stood, took out his wand and conjured a frame befitting the painting. He then levitated it over to the fireplace and hung it over the mantle. Harry's eyes widened with pleasure. He then tugged on his father's sleeve.

"I love you, Daddy."

Snape picked up Harry and gave him a quick, tight hug. "I love you, too, Harry. Merry Christmas."