Snape was pacing the classroom again, back and forth between the desks. He clenched his fists in what seemed a mixture of anger and embarrassment. He did not look at Harry who had a serious expression on his face.
”I want to apologise to you Professor,” said Harry. ”I thought the worst of you… again. I thought that you refused to do it only to spite Professor McGonagall. I’m so sorry for presuming… But old habits die hard. I should have given you the benefit of a doubt though, especially after learning last spring how fundamentally I had misjudged you until then. Your loyalty to Professor Dumbledore and all the sacrifices you did during the war speak for themselves.”
”Apology accepted, Mr Potter. How could you possibly know?” Snape shook his head. ”I was surprised myself by my sudden display of softness and Minerva didn’t even consider the possibility. I won’t hold it against you, I’ll only ask you not to mention it to anybody else… Just let them think… whatever they already think… I frankly find it a trifling embarrassing at my age, especially after loathing Christmas for so many years… well, I’m sure you understand…” Snape spoke in a level, slightly dismissive and embarrassed tone of voice.
”I understand, I understand perfectly!” cried Harry. ”And I’m happy for your sake, Professor! It’s great that you’ve started to expect things again. It must mean that…” Snape waved his hands in horror and interrupted Harry irritably.
”Good heavens Potter, don’t speculate on what it means! Voldemort is gone and I finally expect to have some peace of mind! Enjoy a quiet Christmas morning by myself, that’s all - but it’s enough to ruin the clause of the Enchantment. Now back to my question. I have bared my secret to you, please be frank with me in return. Tell me - how did you do it?” Snape sounded genuinely curious. It was Harry’s turn to look embarrassed.
”If you promise not to tell anyone, not even Professor McGonagall. They would so easily misunderstand…” Harry hesitated. ”I didn’t cheat the Enchantment or anything - I only did it, by myself last night. I suspected I fulfilled the requirements and it turned out that I did,” Harry muttered defiantly. His teacher gaped at him then narrowed his eyes.
”I refuse to believe that you hate Christmas, Mr Potter,” hissed Snape. ”I have seen you since the age of eleven, just as eager as any other bright-eyed child, filling yourself with sweets and laughing with your friends. Don’t tell me you don’t expect anything out of Christmas!”
”I don’t, though. I…” Harry started to say before he was interrupted again.
”You hate Christmas? Really? You’re doing a good job of fooling your friends! Fooling us all!” spat Snape.
”No! I do enjoy Christmas ever so much,” protested Harry. ”It’s a misconception that you must hate the Festival to perform that spell. Just because you were ever so bitter all those years and loathed everything that had to do with it, doesn’t mean that I have to…” Harry stopped and frowned to himself before he continued thoughtfully. ”The Enchantment doesn’t demand of you to hate Christmas - on the contrary, I believe it succeeds better when you are ready to embrace everything that has to do with it. And I do - I love every bit of it, I just don’t expect anything for my personal benefit.” Harry held Snape’s gaze steadily.
”How’s that? What do you mean?” Snape made an effort not to raise his voice. Harry sighed and turned his head away to look into the fire for a while before he turned back with a defiant air.
”Let’s say that for me, it’s just a consequence of growing up at the Dursleys’. A childhood thing. I never learnt to expect anything when I was little. When I came to Hogwarts it was too late to learn differently, I think.” Harry shrugged. Snape scrutinised him. He had seen some of Harry’s disenchanting memories from his upbringing with the Dursley’s during Occlumency lessons in Harry’s fifth year at Hogwarts.
”Your cousin probably had more presents than you,” stated Snape. ”They favoured him at your expense.” Harry nodded and looked away.
”Something like that,” he murmured. Snape stiffened.
”You didn’t get any Christmas presents at all? Not even when you were a small child?” he asked with the least little bit of incredulity. Harry shrugged again.
”I… They… Look, it’s not a big deal. I have had six brilliant Christmases at Hogwarts since then. I have left the Dursleys behind me - really, I’m never going back to them,” Harry said with emphasis.
”Christmas at Hogwarts is an ambiguous business. The children who stayed behind at the castle were always pitied by the others,” said Snape. ”For my part, I returned home my first two years - after that it was better to stay here, but I still hated the taunts.”
”Yeah, Malfoy always tried to make me feel bad about it,” mumbled Harry. ”Why didn’t you want to return home from your third year, Professor?” Harry held his breath to see if the Potions Master would answer such a private question. Snape looked hard at him.
”Because by then the depression my mother suffered from - a fact that I only realised later on, as an adult - had gotten such a strong grip on her that she had stopped making an effort for Christmas, at all. No presents, no decorations, no food. Only slowness and dullness. She didn’t even shout at my father any longer. He, of course, would be drunk. It was oppressing and I realised they didn’t want me there. Now tell me about the Christmases at the Dursleys’.” Snape had spoken in a soft, deflated voice, but he looked firmly at Harry who stared back into those unfathomable eyes as he realised that Snape wanted something in return for his confidence.
”It was nothing remarkable, really,” said Harry uncomfortable. ”I just never was part of Christmas at the Dursley’s and I accepted that - I never knew anything else. Aunt Petunia was quite the opposite to your mother - she used to decorate for Christmas and prepare food in abundance - I was just never allowed to… Anyway, I’m sure your mother must have been different at one time - when you were younger, I suppose. How else would you, despite everything, have come to expect… ?” Harry’s voice faltered a little.
”Leave my childhood alone, Mr Potter,” Snape said warningly.
”Yeah, well, sorry… Anyway, aunt Petunia was quite fastidious about Christmas. I always knew it was not for my benefit, though. I looked at the decorations and quite enjoyed it, secretly, but I never had anything of my own, in my room - in my cupboard, I should say.”
Snape snorted and narrowed his eyes.
”Look,” said Harry, ”they simply didn’t like me and when celebrating great occasions in particular, they just wanted me out of the way and forget that I existed at all. Christmas was very dull that way. I stayed in my cupboard doing pretty much nothing at all.” Harry drew his breath. He did not know why his throat was constricting in such an embarrassing way. He shook his head to get rid of the interfering emotion. ”I remember very well when Uncle Vernon explained it to me - I might have been five years old or so - he said that Christmas was a family holiday and that I should have the decency to respect that and leave them alone. I knew I was different and that there was nothing to be expected. That’s just the way it was.” Harry ended in a firmer, matter-of-fact voice.
Snape’s already black eyes had grown darker and darker as Harry spoke, until they scintillated with fury. Snape inhaled sharply through his nose and started to swear and curse, evoking everything from exploding cauldrons to filthy gnomes and the magic of the celestial bodies. Harry looked wide-eyed at him. Professor Snape did have an extensive vocabulary, he knew that, but he had never heard him use language like this before. Half of the invectives were unknown to Harry, swearing being prohibited at Hogwarts and the only time Harry had come across the occasional magical curse-word was at Ron’s worse moments and it did not come close to Snape’s impressive harangue. It took Harry some time to realise that Snape’s fury was not directed at him, but had on the contrary been ignited on his behalf.