Severus Snape drummed his fingers on the desk thoughtfully, as he watched the small boy seated just across from him.

 If the child was aware of the rhythmic drumming sound, he showed no signs. Instead, he remained fully focused on the piece of parchment in front of him, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth, the way it always did when he was concentrating.

It was nearly six months since he had rescued five year old Harry from the care of his aunt and uncle- if one could call it 'care' at all- and it had been no surprise to Severus that his new son was less than familiar with the idea of a letter to Father Christmas.

When Severus had first suggested it, the boy had stared at him as though he was speaking a foreign language.

The potions master had promptly launched into a full explanation of what the letter entailed, but it soon became clear that it was not the concept Harry was struggling with- it was simply the surprise of being told that he, Harry James Potter, who had never received a present in his entire life, could write a letter to Father Christmas. This, Harry had explained, was a privilege that had only been afforded to Dudley in previous years.

Now, they were sitting in the study as they often did, Severus grading his students' papers, and Harry writing his letter.

The boy seemed to be getting on just fine, Severus decided, and now the only question was how on earth he was going to get a look at the letter before Harry owled it to the North Pole. This was something the dour man had absolutely no experience of, and he was now beginning to wonder how other parents managed it.

Glancing at the boy again, Severus cleared his throat and set down his quill.

  “You have been writing for quite some time,” he said, his silky voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

  “I'm being careful Daddy, so Father Christmas can read all my letters,” Harry told him innocently, as he signed his name at the bottom of the parchment. “There. I'm finished.”

  “Good. Well, in that case, would you like me to check it and make sure it's legible?” Severus asked.

But Harry- the only five year old in the wizarding world who knew the meaning of the word 'legible'- shook his head.

  “No thank you.”

No, because that would have been far too easy. Time for Plan B.

  “Well, perhaps to check your spelling then? We can't have a letter to Father Christmas with poor spelling.”

  “Lots of children send letters to him, I'm sure he doesn't mind if we can't spell every word,” Harry told him, folding his letter in half. “Besides, everyone knows that the only person who's allowed to see my letter is Father Christmas. I'm not supposed to show it to grown ups. That's what Dudley always says.”

  “Indeed? But I'm sure that a child so spoiled as your pig of a cousin would be certain to have all of his spelling checked by his mother before posting such a letter?” Snape pressed, hopefully.

  “Nope,” Harry shook his head. “Dudley put the letter in the en-vi-lope, and then Uncle Vernon put it in the postbox for him.”

  “I'm sure,” he responded, curtly. “Then perhaps you would like to hand that to me, so that I may owl it to Father Christmas first thing in the morning.”

  “No thank you,” Harry said again, slipping the letter into an envelope and sealing it tightly. “I can do it Daddy, I'm a big boy now, remember?”

  “Yes you are,” Severus muttered, watching as Harry jumped down from his chair and trotted off in the direction of his bedroom, obviously in search of somewhere to put his letter for safe keeping until it was light enough to venture to the owlery.

Severus knew he had to see that letter. How else would he know what it was that Harry desired for Christmas? It was the boy's first one in his new home, and he wanted to make it special. If Harry wanted the latest Starshine Starter Broom, a 'My First Potions' kit or a lifetime supply of chocolate frogs, then he needed to know.

Sighing, he picked up his quill again, scrawling a large red 'F' on the front of the paper he had been marking. He would have to come up with something, and quickly.

* * *

The next few days were spent with Severus attempting to cast his eyes over Harry's letter in vain.

The heavy snow had meant that Harry had not yet been able to go up to the astronomy tower and owl his letter to Father Christmas. Not that this had been any advantage to Severus, who was no closer to seeing the letter now than he had been the day it was written.

Severus had tried everything he could think of to persuade Harry to hand the letter over. A few subtle hints, and even a white lie about the rules of the wizarding world being different to those invented by muggles. Wizarding children, he told the boy, were definitely allowed to show their letters to a parent or guardian- in fact it was encouraged.

When that didn't work, he resorted to a thorough search of Harry's bedroom. While he knew it was probably wrong to invade the boy's privacy quite so much, Severus reassured himself that it was a far better option than a disappointed child on Christmas morning.

When a simple 'accio' didn't work, however, Severus was forced to admit that wherever Harry had hidden the letter, he had hidden it well.

Now, Severus paced up and down in his quarters, wondering what on earth to do next.

Was it finally time to admit that he may need to seek the advice of Professor McGonagall, or worse, that blasted Weasley woman?

Without that letter, the whole day would be a complete disaster. Harry wouldn't get the presents he had asked for, and his first Christmas at Hogwarts with his adoptive father would be ruined.

Severus racked his brains, searching his memory for an instance when Harry might have inadvertently dropped a hint about what it was he desired. Had he perhaps mentioned something in passing, or stopped to stare into the window of a toy shop in Diagon Alley?

Try as he might, the professor could not recall any such occasion.

Without that letter he had no hope, and the chances of him being successful in guessing at a suitable present were slim to none. What did he know about five year old boys and what toys they liked to play with?

Coming to a halt in front of the fireplace, Severus pulled his black robes more tightly around him.

He needed to see that letter.

There was only one thing for it.

  “Harry! Can you come out here please?” he called.

Within seconds, the boy came charging from the bedroom.

  “Walk, don't run, young man,” Severus told him, sternly.

  “Sorry Daddy. Am I in trouble? You shouted me,” Harry said, shifting nervously on the spot.

  “For once, you are not. I simply wished to know where your letter to Father Christmas is?” he asked.

  “My letter? How come?” Harry frowned.

  “Well as you are aware, the ice and snow have meant it far too dangerous for you to climb the steps to the owlery over the last few days,” Severus said, sounding smooth, even if he did say so himself. “As such, I thought it prudent to arrange another postal method on this occasion.”

  Harry smiled. “That's okay, Daddy. I don't have the letter anymore.”

Didn't have the letter anymore? Oh no, this was not good.

  “What do you mean by that?” Severus asked. “Where is it?”

  “Hagrid said he was going to clear the ice off the steps today, so I gave my letter to him,” the boy explained. “He said he'll take it to the owlery for me.”

* * *

Severus Snape had never run through the corridors of Hogwarts quite so fast in his entire life. Several students were knocked down in the process, and even Peeves was having a hard time keeping up with him.

Right then, he did not care what anybody thought of him- he had to get that letter back, before it was too late.

Severus ran as fast as he could, and did not stop until the astronomy tower came into view.

His heart sank when he saw that the thick sheets of ice that had previously covered the stone steps were gone, replaced by some kind of grit- goblin kidney stones, no doubt.

Taking the steps in twos, Severus made it to the top in record time, finding Hagrid handing out seeds to several of the owls.

  “'Ello Perfesser! What you doin' up 'ere then?” the jovial half-giant bellowed, waving a huge hand at the potions master.

  “The letter,” Severus managed, gasping for breath. “I need the letter.”

  “'Arry's letter? What d'ye want wi' that?” Hagrid asked.

  “Do you have the letter or not?” he snapped, impatiently.

Hagrid felt inside his coat pocket, producing the envelope, which appeared decidedly more crumpled than it had the last time Severus had seen it.

  “It's 'ere. 'Arry was very clear, mind you. 'E said no one else was to read it,” Hagrid said, unsurely.

  “It is a letter to Father Christmas,” Severus said, simply.

  “Well I know tha'!” he laughed.

  “The letter is to Father Christmas. Since Father Christmas does not exist, has it not occurred to you that I might need to read the letter myself, you bumbling oaf?” Severus demanded.

  “Well...” Hagrid began, still reluctant to hand the letter over.

Severus sighed, irritated. “Unless you would rather Mr Potter be left without presents on Christmas morning?”

  “Of course I wouldn't!” Hagrid cried, seemingly insulted by the accusation.

  “In that case, hand it over.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Hagrid edged his way over towards the exit, pushing the letter into the other man's hands.

  “This stays between me and you, mind,” he muttered.

  “Naturally,” Severus drawled, opening the envelope and unfolding the parchment.

As Hagrid made his way back down the steps of the astronomy tower, Severus began to read.

Deer Farther Chrismass,

My Daddy teld me to rite this lettre to you, an tell you wot I want for chrismas, so I rote this, so to make Daddy happey.

Did you no, I liv in a big cassel wiv my Daddy? It's a majick cassel, an it is cawled Hogwortes. Lots ov chilledren liv here to, but in the sumer they don't. But onse upon a time, I dident liv here. I livd wiv Ant Perchunia and Uncel Vernern. I didernt like it there, and I never geted any presernts at chrismas time.

Daddy sayd I shud writ to you, and tel you wot presernts I wood like. But Farther Chrismass, I don't need enny presernts this yeer, becorse you gave me wot I wantid from last chrismass. Sorrey I cudn't rite to you then, but I wish'd reelly hard in my hed, and I fink you heered me, and you sent my Daddy to get me.

Thankyew for my Daddy, Farther Chrismass. You downt hav to cum to vizit me this yeer, becorse my Daddy wos the best presernt I ever got.

Love from
Harry Potter, age 5.

Folding the piece of parchment back in half, Severus cursed the dust in astronomy tower, which was most definitely the cause of the lump forming in his throat.

So he had finally obtained the letter, and only one conclusion could be drawn: he was still none the wiser as to what to get a five year old for Christmas.

Tucking the parchment into his robes, Severus turned back towards the steps.

It was time to floo Molly Weasley.