”Severus Snape, how dare you disrespect me in this way? Had Albus been alive you would have indulged him long ago, but with me… with me you just…” 

The shrill voice of Minerva McGonagall resonated through the dungeons and reached Harry’s, Ron’s and Hermione’s ears at the other end of the passageway leading up to the Potions classroom. They stopped and looked intrigued at each other. They had not once, in their six and a half years at Hogwarts, known Professor McGonagall to have set foot in the basement of the castle. Something very serious must be going on for her to seek Professor Snape out in person. 

”I have begged you for days to perform that charm… coaxed you… offered you all kinds of incentives… and still you refuse. And now you tell me - in that waspish tone of yours - not to take it personally?” 

Harry and his friends had approached further and could hear the headmistress draw her breath before she exploded in rage. 

”How can I possibly not take it personally, when I know for a fact that you performed that magic - ungracefully, grumpily, I give you that - but you did do it, every Christmas, for more than ten years, for Albus’ sake! Why do you refuse me? What do I have to do?” Professor McGonagall’s voice rose to falsetto. At last Snape was allowed to reply.

”I’m not accountable to you for this, Minerva,” he hissed. ”This odious task is not listed in my employment contract. I have no obligation. As for me having performed the spell previous years, to humour Albus… well, let’s say that I have already fulfilled my quota of foolish wand waving by far and now - I have already told you - you must find somebody else to do it! Leave me alone, by Merlin! There are other wizards and witches in the country, no, for you to harass?!” 

Snape spoke louder than he used to do, which betrayed some kind of emotion playing on his side as well. The former spy and reformed Death Eater was less controlled and more temperamental, in a healthy way, now that he did not have to practice Occlumency on a daily basis, since Voldemort fell. Harry did not know whether it was this fact, or his own maturing - Harry was eighteen now and not as easily provoked as he used to be - that made Snape appear in a different, more human, light to Harry. In any event , Harry found himself in possession of a newfound respect for his previously hated teacher that was in fact most probably caused by the revelations of Snape’s loyalty to Dumbledore and his former friendship with Harry’s mother.

”Severus, you know you are the only one who…” begged Professor McGonagall.

”Headmistress, please! NEWT students will be here in a few minutes for their last lesson before the holidays and I still have things to prepare. As I told you before, I am sorry I will not be able to oblige you, this once.” Snape interrupted Professor McGonagall in a stiff but polite voice and there was just the least little bit of pleading to it as well. The headmistress, on the contrary, was far from polite as she snarled a Gryffindor lion growl in farewell and rushed out of the classroom so suddenly she almost collided with Hermione. 

”Pardon me, Miss Granger,” the fuming professor hissed impatiently and brushed past them, without granting them a look. They heard her lament to herself as she turned her back to them. ”How am I supposed to find someone else? What kind of Christmas will we have this year?” 

Ron and Hermione followed her with wide eyes as she disappeared towards the stairs to the Entrance Hall, but Harry’s attention was engaged elsewhere. He had peaked inside the dungeon as soon as Professor McGonagall had sorted from there and had caught the Potions Master with a curious expression on his face. Harry stared puzzled at Snape. What was it… guilt? No - embarrassment was closer. Why? For being caught quarrelling with the headmistress, by his least favourite students? That did not make sense. Snape might be less gloomy as a free man, he still enjoyed antagonising people - he would not usually be ashamed of having a fight with Minerva McGonagall. Snape met Harry’s eyes and scowled at him. People were coming up behind Harry and soon the classroom was full of NEWT students settling down, arranging their cauldrons on their desks.

A double potion period later, Harry and his friends emerged from the dungeons in the Entrance Hall where the sight of Professor Hooch waving her wand at the pillars to improve the Christmas decorations met them. The castle was overloaded with golden ribbons, spruce branches and silvery bells, not to speak of red-clad puppet gnomes in every corner and the odd reindeer as well. 

”It hasn’t quite sprung to life yet,” observed Hermione. ”They have conjured plenty of the animated decorations but not yet synchronised them properly. Oh, I do long for Christmas, probably because we missed out on it so blatantly last year - do you remember Harry?”

”Let’s not talk about it, Hermione.” Harry shuddered as he recalled their time in exile last winter, hiding from Voldemort and his Death Eaters.  

”Christmases at Hogwarts were always something special, if you remember. Not even Mother could equal it at the Burrow. And it’s not only because the castle is so grand. Mother’s usually able to compensate with magical skills what the Burrow lacks in material resources, but for Christmas she never managed it as beautifully as at school. The castle used to have a life of its own at Christmas, didn’t it? I guess it was Dumbledore’s doing and that we cannot expect it now that he’s gone,” said Ron. Hermione stopped dead, causing the others to pause their steps and look at her.

”What if that was the Enchantment that McGonagall wanted Snape to do?” she exclaimed.

”Don’t be ridiculous. Snape hates Christmas. Why would he want to do that?” replied Ron.  

”That’s exactly what Professor McGonagall was implying though, wasn’t it? From what we overheard, I’d say it fits perfectly. For some reason she believes that Snape is the only one able to enchant Christmas at Hogwarts,” retorted Hermione. Harry frowned.

”It doesn’t make sense. Professor McGonagall is the Transfiguration expert at Hogwarts - she should be the one to do such magic. Snape is a powerful wizard, I grant you that, but why on earth would he be the only one on the staff capable of performing such a spell?” said Harry. 

”I’m going to find out,” replied Hermione and turned resolutely on her heel. ”I’m going to the library, looking up Christmas Enchantments. I have an hour until dinner.”

”Oh, please, Hermione, leave it!” Ron burst out. He had little patience for Hermione practically living in the library, especially since they got together as a couple and he expected her to spend time with him. ”We’re not even staying this year. We’re all leaving for the Burrow tomorrow.”

”What about those who are staying? Don’t you wish for them to have a nice Christmas?” Hermione said indignantly.

”Always out to make me look bad,” muttered Ron. ”Always off to sacrifice herself for others.” Hermione suddenly looked repentant.

”No,” she said, ”I’m doing it because I want Christmas to be like before, when we were little. I want it to sing and breathe in that magical way it used to do. It’s our last year at Hogwarts - I want to be part of it once again, if only for a while.” 

”What sentimentality…” muttered Ron but his voice was a little thick. ”Oh, blast, I guess it wouldn’t kill me to wake up to that enchanted Christmas spirit tomorrow. If you can solve the mystery, that is.” 

Hermione nodded confidently and headed up the stairs. Harry looked mildly amused at his friend. 

”What?” scowled Ron. 

”Nothing,” Harry hastened to say.

During dinner Harry watched Professor McGonagall pointedly turning her back to Snape who had his seat on her right side as he was the deputy headmaster. The headmistress consistently spoke to Professor Flitwick at her other side and did not exchange a word with the Potions Master. Meanwhile, Hermione hardly got any food down as she was leaning in on Harry and Ron, explaining her discoveries at the library. 

”The Enchantment can only be brought on by a wizard or a witch who has no personal interest in Christmas, someone who does not want anything for himself,” she said. Harry raised his eyebrows.

”No personal gain? That sounds very unslytherinish,” he commented. 

”The exact wording was ”someone who expects nothing from Christmas”. That’s why it’s so difficult to find the right person, you see. Most of us expect something - if not presents, maybe good food or company or family traditions that you want to repeat. Those things go deep in you since your childhood. It’s extremely rare to find someone who expects nothing,” explained Hermione.

”Yeah… well, if you loathe Christmas, as Snape clearly does, I guess you don’t expect anything, but then you don’t have a reason to do such a spell,” answered Ron.

”It must be done solely for the benefit of others, as a gift to your fellow-beings,” Hermione explained further. 

”And only Dumbledore could make Snape participate in such a scheme and now that he’s gone, Snape refuses to go along with it. How selfish of him,” Harry reflected slowly and shot a pondering glance at the teachers' table. Strangely, Snape was staring back at him at the same moment and after holding the teacher’s gaze for a short while, struggling not to show his disapprobation overtly, Harry turned his eyes away.

At the teachers' table, Snape snorted and speared a piece of meat with his fork with ill humour. Professor McGonagall turned at him sharply. Professor Flitwick had left the table to attend to some Ravenclaw pupils who seemed to be having an argument at their table that risked not to settle peacefully without intervention. 

”What now, Severus? Not irritated at Mr Potter again, are we? Going to punish him for looking at you?” she launched defiantly.

”He’s up to something, as usual,” Snape retorted darkly.

”One would really think that one would try one’s best to get along with the son of one’s best friend,” McGonagall said pointedly and continued, ”Especially when that particular person disposed of the Dark Lord that plagued one’s existence for so many years.”

Snape growled something inaudible and Professor McGonagall continued mercilessly.

”But, no, Severus Snape is stuck in his prejudices and will not change his attitude for all the goblin silver in the world.” Professor McGonagall was being unfair because Snape had indeed been less hostile towards Harry during the last term, although guarded and reserved. The Potions Master had overall improved his behaviour compared to the foul temper he used to display during the Voldemort era. He had even been known lately to give points to Gryffindor students. Professor McGonagall was aware of his improvement, but was too cross with her deputy headmaster for the moment being to take it into consideration.

”Mr Potter and I have so very little in common, Minerva, that it would not be worth the effort. And I prefer not to speak of Lily Evans, as you well know - it was bad enough that my past had to be displayed in such a horrible manner at my trial. You know very well that I would have been sent to Azkaban had I not been able to prove to the Ministry that I was loyal to Dumbledore all those years. Had I had the choice however, I would not have disclosed a word about Lily Evans and I have explicitly asked of you not to bring it up,” Snape said heatedly. ”Moreover it would be a bit hypocritical of me, would it not, after all those years of loathing the boy, to suddenly befriend him only because he managed to get someone killed?” added Snape, his voice dripping of sarcasm.

”Harry is a lovely young man who fooled Voldemort in a very clever way and I think that you might have more in common than you think, Severus. But you would be too blind to notice, wouldn’t you? Harry’s teachers report that he is more studious this year and that his marks lie in the upper range - outstanding in several subjects, actually. They also tell me he displays an interest in Magical Theory and that he shows an original and intelligent mind of his own in writing his essays, with special reference to ethical issues of magic, the Dark Arts in particular,” said Professor McGonagall. 

Snape tried to snort dismissively, but failed as Professor McGonagall leaned closer to him. 

”Now, who does that remind me of?”

”Mr Potter is wary of me just as much as I of him. And he is an adult, about to leave school soon, no doubt for some illustrious career that his exploits have made way for. Why would I approach him  now? It’s too late,” Snape spat irritably. 

”Harry is a young man who is completely alone in the world. His relatives have made perfectly clear that they want nothing to do with him now that he is of age. He has no one. His repeated clashes with Voldemort and his final victory over the Dark Lord has given him an image of invincibility, but I can see that he is in fact quite vulnerable. He could use a mentor and a personal friend. Merlin knows I try to do my best to accommodate him, given that Hogwarts is his only home at the moment, but I can never become more than his head of house and his headmistress. You, on the other hand, with your connection with Lily…” said McGonagall.

Snape let his fist fall on the table in a barely controlled manner and interrupted her again.

”Stop now, Minerva, I told you not to mention Lily! You only bring this up to make me feel guilty and punish me for refusing to do that Christmas charm of yours,” hissed Snape. 

”No,” Professor McGonagall answered thoughtfully. ”That’s not the only reason. I’m angry with you, of course, furious even, but I have wanted to breach the subject of your relationship with Harry earlier, but cowardly avoided it because of your touchiness when it comes to Lily Evans Potter.” 

”Mr Potter has hords of friends,” objected Snape. ”Why should he care about his mother’s long-forgotten childhood companion? The Weasley family has practically adopted him. He will most probably marry Molly Weasley’s only daughter - the woman already dotes on him as if he were her own son.”

”Hmm… well that is the problem, isn’t it?” said Professor McGonagall.

”What? How can that be a problem? It procures him a huge family and a warm home at the Burrow, everything he could wish for,” objected Snape.

”Yes… as long as Ginny Weasley doesn’t break up with him,” Professor McGonagall stated calmly.

Snape stared at her, speechless.

”Molly Weasley is extremely fond of Harry and I believe that she would never reject him, but do you really think that if Miss Weasley finds herself a new boy-friend and wants to bring him home to the Burrow for Christmas in the future, that Molly would choose Harry over her own daughter? It would pain her of course and she would urge Harry to attend the family festivities regardless, but do you think it would be possible for Mr Potter to join them under such circumstances?”

Snape looked troubled.

”I told you his position is a vulnerable one,” explained Professor McGonagall dryly.

”Do you… do you have reason to believe this will happen?” said Snape with incredulity.

”Heavens no, it was merely hypothetical. The last time I saw the young couple together they looked very much in love.” Professor McGonagall waved her hand dismissively.

Snape scowled at her, but relaxed visibly. The headmistress went on to explain her point.

”Miss Weasley is young, demanding of life and adventurous. She chose to quit school to go into business like her brother, whereas Harry chose to complete his education and obtain his NEWT levels, even though, as you implied earlier, he could have had a number of high placed, generously paid positions because of his fame. They don’t see much of each other and I know that Miss Weasley is keen on going abroad next year. A young couple that are separated that much might grow apart, you know. The point I was making was that he’s in a vulnerable position should it happen,” Professor McGonagall concluded sententiously. 

”Of course it won’t happen! Who in their right mind would give up a connection with the famous Harry Potter? He’s in a position of having everything he asks for - I wouldn’t call that vulnerability,” said Snape, a something of the old bitterness creeping into his voice.

”Fame also has its drawbacks.” Professor McGonagall stood up. ”Severus, about the Christmas Enchantment…”

”It’s still no, for Heaven’s sake!” 

Snape banged his fist on the table again, causing the cutlery to shatter on the plates and the seated teachers to start and glare at him. The headmistress pursed her lips, swirled round and left the table without another word. 

Harry was sitting by himself in front of the big fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. It was Christmas Eve and the tower was emptying itself of pupils, most of whom had caught the Hogwarts Express at noon in order to join their families for Christmas. Because of frequent sick-leaves of Professor Vector during the autumn however, a NEWT class of Arithmancy was scheduled in the afternoon for catching up, so Harry and Ron had to wait for Hermione. They were to leave as soon as she was done. Meanwhile, Ron had gone down to the kitchen to see if he could get them something to eat. Harry had declined to go with him because speaking to the house-elves still reminded him painfully of Dobby who had been lost in the war against Voldemort. 

Harry leant closer to the warmth of the fire and smiled to himself. He recalled the wondrous and delighted looks on his friends’ faces in the morning as they climbed down to the Entrance Hall. They had all sensed a harmonious humming in the air as they woke up. When they stepped out of the Gryffindor house and overviewed the grand space of the Hall from the staircase landing, the extent of the Christmas Enchantment hit them. The castle was alive. Every little piece of it contributed to the performance, from the large, gently bowing, gesturing and smiling statues to the knobs on the banisters that had all been gilded and the tiny details in the tapestries that had sprung to life. The decorations placed by the staff were now twirling in the air slowly and in concert, emitting a beautiful, breathing glow. It was even more exquisite than they remembered from previous years.

Hermione had had tears in her eyes and Ron had kissed her on the stairs out of shear happiness. As the pupils gathered in the Great Hall for breakfast, their voices had been hushed and awed and their eyes glittering. The teachers had had relieved and joyous expressions on their faces and had nodded their approval at the headmistress, who, Harry thought, had fought hard not to betray her astonishment. 

Snape had arrived late for breakfast, his nose plunged in an unfolded scroll of pergament that he was reading as he emerged from the dungeons. He was half-way up to the podium before he lifted his head and froze in his movement. When Professor McGonagall rose and walked towards him with a huge smile and with open arms, as if she was going to hug him, Snape had simply turned on his heel and disappeared the same way he had come. The younger students who had had class with him during the day had reported him to be in a murderous mood and the Potions Master had not turned up for lunch in the Great Hall either. 

”I don’t understand why he has to be so ridiculous about it,” Hermione had said. ”Nor why he doesn’t want to take the credit for this marvellous piece of magic. Oh well, I’m glad that he changed his mind, and that we could relive this a last time.”

Harry stared dreamingly into the fire with a slightly melancholy look on his face when he suddenly became aware of a presence behind him and turned around. Snape stood completely still, a few steps from Harry’s armchair. He was clad in his usual black attire, he didn’t make a sound and his obsidian black eyes were riveted on Harry. There was no telling for how long Snape had stood there and after gripping the armrests tightly for a second, Harry stood up slowly, trying not to let the surprise over finding the head of house of Slytherin inside the common room of Gryffindor show too blatantly. It seemed like Snape, on his side, had no wish to stay in the lions’ den for long, for almost without moving his lips, he said in a monotonous, although steely voice:

”Come with me, Mr Potter. A word if you please.” 

”Ron…” Harry started to object. 

”Mr Weasley will survive without you for ten minutes,” snapped Snape. He turned abruptly and headed towards the hole behind the portrait of the Fat Lady which constituted the entrance to the Gryffindor house. Harry followed warily. 

Snape did not take them far. He entered an empty classroom nearby, ushered Harry inside and closed the door behind them carefully. He paced a few steps up and down in front of Harry before he opened his mouth to speak.

”I have been falsely accused, Mr Potter,” started Snape. 

Harry raised his eyebrows. 

”…of performing this Christmas Enchantment that everybody goggles and sighs so foolishly about. I have set out to get myself cleared of all suspicions and hand the perpetrator over to the headmistress to receive her infinite gratitude and undying love, of which I want none,” Snape finished decisively.  Harry quirked his lips imperceptibly.

”What make you believe I have something to do with it, Professor?” he asked lightly.

”Don’t play the innocent with me, Mr Potter,” Snape answered impatiently. ”You and your friends overheard Minerva’s little lecture yesterday. At least Miss Granger is smart enough to draw the right conclusion from those ill-advised words. And it was becoming pretty obvious that the Enchantment was late in manifesting this year. Minerva was clearly desperate. Just like you to step in and save your head of house. Now tell me, what did you do?” 

”We didn’t do anything. Hermione was just as surprised this morning as everybody else by the nascent Christmas spirit and she thought that you had changed your mind. Tell me Professor, why would you not help Professor McGonagall out in a trifling matter like this, when it is clearly so important to a lot of people?” Harry asked crossly.

”A trifling matter? Did Miss Granger show you the requisites of that Enchantment? You need a lot of power and advanced skills to perform it,” snorted Snape.

”What do you mean? It doesn’t crave any special skills!” protested Harry. ”Hmm…” Harry bit his tongue too late and coloured slightly. Snape looked smug.

”So you did have a look at the text. I bet Miss Granger researched it for you. I modify my statement - the Enchantment per se only takes moderate skills and power, but the conditions are very precise and, as I see it, they are impossible to circumvent. Now how on earth did you make it work?” Snape stepped closer to Harry and fixed him so intently with his black eyes that Harry was afraid he would try to Legilimency him.

”I know how to block you, Professor,” Harry felt obliged to point out. He had found himself in much better control of his emotions after he had gotten rid of Voldemort’s piece of soul that had been attached to his as a Horcrux until last spring. He had learned to master Occlumency on his own the past summer. It had come perfectly naturally to him and had helped him through the bothersome attention of the press.

”I suspected as much, Potter!” exploded Snape. ”You’re not fifteen any longer and you have conquered a Dark Lord - of course you can block me out! That’s not the issue. What I want to know is how you and your friends found a way to circumvent that precise requisite of the spell.”

”We didn’t circumvent…” began Harry, but was interrupted by Snape again who grabbed his arm.

”I resent other people being cleverer than me, Mr Potter, that’s all,” said Snape with self-imposed calm. ”Frankly, I’m not used to that. I just want to know how you did it - I tried every possible way to fool the Enchantment but it wouldn’t work. I simply want to know what I missed.” Harry stared at him.

”You tried to find a way to circumvent it? But why didn’t you just do it then? You’ve performed the spell before - Professor McGonagall said so?” exclaimed Harry befuddled. 

Snape turned away with colour rising on his cheeks. Harry stared at him. Suddenly he drew his breath and grabbed Snape’s arm in return. 

”Are you ill, Professor? Are your powers reduced? Is that why you couldn’t do it? I’m so sorry…” Harry’s voice was full of concern and compassion. Snape coloured even deeper and tore his arm away, highly embarrassed.

”I’m perfectly fine, Mr Potter, thank you very much,” he snarled haughtily. ”With Voldemort gone, I have in fact never been in better health. I’m afraid there is little chance of watching me waste away in disease, at least in the immediate future.” Harry recoiled a little and inclined his head to the side in genuine puzzlement. 

”But I don’t understand then, why you would try to circumvent the Enchantment…? Oh…” Harry fell silent as he realised what it must mean. 

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. 

After having finished his tirade, Snape stepped forward and gripped the front of Harry’s robe, hissing agitatedly to his face:

”You, Mr Potter, should expect things… You should not, at your age, display that resigned attitude… By Merlin! With everything you have achieved, you should be allowed to… You should expect great things out of life!” 

Harry stared at his teacher. It truly sounded as if Snape, in his own way, was expressing some benevolence towards Harry. It confused him.

”I do expect things in life… I think…” Harry mumbled uncertainly and recoiled from Snape, shocked by his teacher’s vehemence. ”I mean, I suppose when it comes to Christmas presents, I never will learn to expect them. The Christmas that I spent at Hogwarts in my first year was the first time I got one. Mrs Weasley had knitted me a jumper. I was surprised and overwhelmed by the fact that she had done that for me. And that’s pretty much the feeling I still have today when I receive presents. I’m delighted and moved but although I’m almost certain that I will get presents from my friends and from the Weasley family both at Christmas and at my Birthday, I still cannot seem to expect it as something certain, nor would I be disappointed if I didn’t get any. It all depends on what you learnt those first years of your life.”

Snape scowled and looked even angrier.

”But, for the rest, in general I do expect things in life,” Harry made haste to proceed before the Potions Master exploded again. ”I mean, I expect to succeed in my professional life for instance. I study really hard this year to get good NEWT grades. And I’ve found myself an aptitude for learning languages. With my additional knowledge of Parseltongue that is quite unique, I expect to make a difference.”

Snape arched an eyebrow inquiringly. 

”There are other Parseltongues in the world, beside Voldemort,” explained Harry ”…and I’m afraid most of them are quite evil. There are a couple of them in Central Africa, for example, who plague the Muggle population in the surrounding countries. And there’s another one in the Middle East. He’s so old that everybody has forgotten why he started the war, but he keeps the conflicts in that part of the world going on forever and ever. If someone were to try to negotiate with those wizards, the massacres might come to an end and…” Harry could not believe he was telling Snape of all people of his yet undefined future plans. He had not even discussed them with his friends, let alone with Mr Weasley or any of the other people at the Ministry that he knew.

”Those are not expectations, Mr Potter! Those are suicide plans. To negotiate with Parsel-wizards, indeed! Why on earth would you feel the need to demonstrate anything at all after conquering Voldemort?” spat Snape.

”Doing something of my own, perhaps, that wasn’t written in a Prophesy?” Harry countered heatedly. ”I’m eighteen, I want an interesting job that makes a difference in the world. And there’s nothing suicidal about it. I reverted from becoming an Auror to want to become a diplomat and work with peace making processes. It’s an honourable enough profession.”

”Of course it is,” said Snape who seemed to be calming down but still with a touch of irony in his voice. ”A profession chosen by ambitious wizards and witches who want to prove their goodness to the world. A dangerous profession, moreover. Wizard diplomacy involves a lot of fighting the Dark Arts as well as a thorough insight in wizard law. And worldwide travelling. It’s a demanding profession, Mr Potter.”

”Ginny wants to travel abroad,” said Harry. Snape arched an eyebrow.

”Have you conceived of this profession to keep up with Miss Weasley’s wishes, Mr Potter?” he sneered.

”Of course not,” protested Harry, but red spots appeared on his cheeks. Snape watched him doubtfully.

”Planning a professional career where you expect to sacrifice yourself for the good of the world doesn’t convince me that you have learnt how to expect things for you own benefit in life,” objected Snape. ”You know that you were abominably abused by your Muggle family, don’t you?” he added as an afterthought. Harry flinched.

”I was mostly neglected, I think. They didn’t beat me or anything, besides Dudley’s bullying that could get quite physical, but…” Harry said defensively. 

”There is such a thing as psychological abuse, Potter - have you not heard of it?” Snape raised his voice again as the anger returned to him. 

Harry averted his gaze.

”You’re an obvious victim of that kind of abuse,” continued Snape. ”When my mother was depressed enough not to get me proper clothes, that was neglect. It was not done with ill-will. What your relatives did on the contrary was to ignore you on purpose, to undermine your self-esteem and to deny you the most basic psychological needs.” Snape drew his breath. ”By Merlin, Mr Potter, how did you stay sane in that household? I have seen it so many times, among my pupils. That kind of emotional deprivation makes way for bitterness and aggression and a compulsion to assert oneself at all costs. With your history, how on earth have you managed not to turn into a new Dark Lord?” Snape spoke loudly.

”I’m not a new Dark Lord!” Harry exclaimed hotly. It was a sensitive subject with him as his powers had grown after the demise of Voldemort and there were speculations in the same direction now and again in the Daily Prophet. No names, but allusions.

”I know you’re not! I can see it for myself!” spat Snape. ”I’m asking you how you managed to avoid that turn, considering your upbringing?”

”I… I…” Harry started to say but closed his mouth. He looked reproachfully at Snape. ”Please, Sir,” he continued stiffly, ”you made perfectly clear when I visited you at St Mungo’s after the battle last spring that you did not wish to speak of my mother at all. ”Don’t you dare mention her name in my presence” - that’s what I remember you telling me.” Harry locked eyes with Snape. ”If you want me to answer that question, I need to speak about Lily.”

After holding his gaze for a long while, Snape finally turned away from Harry’s half challenging, half pleading green eyes.

”Speak!” said Snape. Harry drew a deep breath. Involuntarily, he took a step forward.

”I remember her,” he said intently. ”Everyone believes that I was too young to have any memories of her, but I do - vivid memories. No visual ones - but I remember her love. I remember how it felt to be held, to put my head on her shoulder. I remember her scent, her warmth and how her hair felt in my hands. I remember her voice. And I always knew that I was loved. Yes, I was different from the Dursley’s and they excluded me from their family life, but I knew I had something of my own.” Harry spoke in an intent, reverent tone of voice. Snape swallowed hard. He had started to tremble slightly in his hands.

”How is it possible?” he said hoarsely.

”I remember her,” insisted Harry. ”There was a magicked blanket that was left with me. It helped me keep my memories alive, I think. I had it with me all the time in my cupboard. It would comfort me, it would help me feel her love. I could even hear her sing,” Harry said quietly.

”Do you still have it?” asked Snape after a pause. He looked strangely resigned. Harry cleared his throat.

”The magic wore off successively. And I grew better at comforting myself, I guess. By my tenth birthday the magic was gone and I did feel kind of lonely that year, but then Hagrid came for me on my eleventh birthday and I was brought to Hogwarts and… since then the school and all the magic I learnt filled that void instead.The blanket is just a blanket now… I didn’t bring it when I left the Dursleys. Not of the utmost necessity when you go hunting for Horcruxes… Although now I wish I could get it back, but I don’t have the heart to visit them…” explained Harry. They stayed silent for a long while, each of them leaning against a desk. There was no tension, no embarrassment between them any longer, only quiet musings.

”What can I do for you, Mr Potter?” Snape suddenly asked. Harry jerked his head up and stared at his teacher in confusion. 

”Listen, you don’t have to do anything at all… I don’t need your pity, really… and I’m okay. It happened a long time ago,” Harry said defiantly. 

Snape continued to look at him without uttering a word. 

”Would you… would you speak to me about her?” Harry suddenly asked in a small voice. ”It would mean a lot to me to be able to talk to someone who knew her. All the others are gone…”

Snape still stared impassively at Harry who swallowed.

”I can’t make you, of course… You don’t have to…” Harry regretted exposing his most fervent wish. This was probably not what Snape had wanted him to ask. He had better offer something inoffensive instead. ”What if you would call me Harry? That would be nice. Most of the teachers who have known me for almost seven years do that out of class,” babbled Harry, ready to let the sensitive subject of Lily Evans go. Snape narrowed his eyes.

”Still not expecting much, are you… Harry?” he said.

Harry looked back at him uncertainly. 

”I have letters that Lily wrote to me. She was a faithful and witty correspondent. I’ll let you read some of them…” said Snape slowly.

Harry’s eyes started to shine but there was still a disbelieving streak in them.

”…One letter every Christmas. Maybe that will teach you to expect something out of this holiday.” Snape’s voice had hardened and Harry pulled a surprised, wary face.

”Why on earth would you…?” he started to say. Snape waved his hand dismissively and shook his head.

”I’m only joking, Mr Po… Harry. I don’t like the idea that you fulfil the requirements of that Christmas Enchantment. I don’t like the implications of it at all. I guess I never will be able to change the fact that you do, though… But for the letters, I have more than fifty of them. At the rate of reading them one a year… Why would I tie you up to me for that lengthy period of time?” Snape coloured the least little bit. ”I realise it would be dreadful to you. Don’t worry, I’ll let you read them as time goes by. We’ll have gone through them before the close of next term.” Snape tried to sound reassuring but Harry still looked doubtful and confused.

”Will you explain some things to me? Answer my questions?” ventured Harry. Snape sighed.

”I suppose you will need to be put into the context of those letters. I will do my best to accommodate you,” said Snape.

Harry smiled tentatively.

”And I will pay Petunia Dursley a visit,” said Snape grimly.

Harry’s mouth fell open.

”…not only to retrieve your blanket for you, but to search Lily’s things for my responses to her letters. She might have kept them. It all belongs to you, however, now that you’re of age and Petunia has ceased to be your guardian. I’ll only ask you to let me read them in advance,” continued Snape.

”But of course! I’ll give you those letters if you find them in the attic at Privet Drive - they are yours. You chose which ones I’ll be allowed to read,” Harry hastened to say, not believing his sour Potions Master had changed so drastically, suddenly ready to give up his privacy so generously. ”And I don’t think it’s dreadful to talk to you, Professor,” insisted Harry, ”…not any longer. You’ve been correct to me this term, really. And ever since I learnt that you were my mother’s friend, I wanted to approach you, I just didn’t know how.”

”You may call me Severus outside the classroom, Harry,” said Snape softly. ”And in the light of this… er… enlightening Christmas exchange between us, I hope we might move beyond the notion of correctness. It would be preferable indeed, since… er… I intend to give you a piece of advice on your relationship with Miss Weasley.” Snape suddenly looked defiant. 

”You intend to do what…?” Harry almost choked on his words, bewildered. ”What! About Ginny?”

”Hmm… yes, Minerva made me realise… But not now, I think, though,” said Snape, unperturbed by Harry’s reaction. ”You don’t have the time. Her charming brother is waiting for you no doubt and the Arithmancy class of Miss Granger has come to an end. Just let me say that Miss Weasley is not unlike your mother in many aspects. Lively, spirited and adventurous. Now that is charming, I’m sure, but it might lead her astray and if you don’t want to repeat the same mistakes that I once did…”

Harry looked curiously at Snape. This had been a sensitive subject for so long with Snape. The teacher had snapped the head off whoever tried to approach the subject of his faithful love for Lily Evans. Harry had thought that the experience was too painful for the Potions Master to talk about and Harry had lost hope of ever bringing himself to breach the subject. Right now however, Snape seemed to allude to it without turning a hair, as if this conversation with Harry had made Snape determined to ignore all previous inhibitions on the subject merely out of will-power. The former Death Eater was indeed a strange and intriguing personality, Harry thought to himself. It took the edge of his own indignation at Snape’s interfering with his love life. Moreover he had to acknowledge that his relationship with Ginny was not without complications, but what on earth could Snape have to say about it? Harry inclined his head to the side in puzzlement and let Snape go on.

”You realise, I hope, that you can never coerce or restrain a woman like Miss Weasley? Not that I think you would do such a thing. You have a much gentler disposition than I did at your age. Not likely to desert her out of hurt pride either, are you?”

Snape’s words made Harry wonder vaguely what might have passed between his mother and the young man Snape had once been. He knitted his eyebrows.

”No, I believe the greatest danger to your union with Miss Weasley is a slight passivity on your side, born, no doubt, from your lack of expectations in life,” continued Snape.

Lily had fallen in love with James - it was as simple as that, wasn’t it? thought Harry. But what had been a matter of cause during his childhood suddenly struck him as over-simplistic. The few clues Snape had let slip pointed in a more complex direction. What if…?

”Are you paying attention, Mr Potter?” barked Snape. 

Harry’s head snapped up. 

”I was saying that you will need to be perseverant and explicit with Miss Weasley.”

Harry blinked.

”There is no need for self-effacement on your side - it would merely back-fire on you, believe me. It is of the utmost importance that you bring yourself to show the young lady the full extent of your hopes and expectations.”

Harry swallowed.

”Now, you will probably do just fine. However, seeing there is no one else to guide you, I’m afraid that I have no choice but to offer myself for the task of spurring you on in life.”

Harry’s eyes widened.

”I believe Lily would have wanted you to have someone to turn to. Now you might not be particularly inclined to listen to me and that’s why I offer those letters in exchange for your attention. Maybe you’ll learn as time goes by that I have your best interests in mind.” Snape spoke with determination and a sparkle of challenge in his voice.

”Maybe I already know that…” Harry responded softly. ”Does it occur to you, Professor… er… Severus, that I might chose to listen to you of my own free will and out of interest?”. Red spots appeared on Snape’s cheeks and the Potions Master had to clear his voice before he continued.

”I will bring you the first letters to the Burrow during the holiday, Po… Harry,” said Snape.

”You’ll visit at Ron’s?” Harry looked surprised.

”I am invited,” clarified Snape. ”As Minerva’s escort on Boxing day. The Weasleys want to get the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix together. Even if I were able to say no to Molly Weasley, I cannot deny the headmistress anything these days, or she will take it personally…” he added with irony. 

Harry grinned.

”Now you had better go,” said Snape. 

Harry knew his friends were waiting for him by now, but he seemed to have difficulties tearing away from the stern professor who had been his mother’s friend and who, after years of dissembling, finally seemed to give him some recognition. Reluctantly Harry started to move towards the door.

”I’ll see you soon then, Severus,” he said over his shoulder. ”I’m looking forward to it! And I wish you a Merry Christmas, Professor!” There was a flash in Snape’s eyes.

”Potter, I don’t do Christmas!… Hmm… Merlin! I guess I do now. Old habits do die, sometimes.” Snape shook his head at himself. ”Merry Christmas, Harry!” There was a mildness in his deep voice that approached affection.