Harry ran his fingers over the smooth parchment, and stared down at the words. He'd known for weeks now, that he was Severus Snape's son, but somehow seeing the words written in fancy black calligraphy made it all that more real.

He stared up at his father, through moist eyes, and saw the raw emotion shining in Severus' dark eyes, that he couldn't hide, despite the familiar mask of harshness that he wore so well.

Dad. The word had just slipped out. Harry looked up through his dark lashes and caught the expression of...yes, shock, but unexpected pleasure as well, that the man was not quick enough to hide. It had just felt right saying those words, at that moment. Harry had struggled with it for weeks; a part of him had held onto his reluctance to give himself over to the feeling of caring about someone so deeply, lest it all be taken away from him.

The feeling wouldn't be denied however much he tried though. Every action that Severus had taken in the past few weeks, since his secret had been revealed, had brought home to Harry, just how much the man meant to him, and how much his father really cared about him. Oh, anyone could argue that Severus Snape was immune to caring about anyone and that he was incapable of deep love, so disciplined were his emotions. But Harry knew better. Even when his father snapped at him, or doled out a particularly harsh punishment in class for a minor infraction, or reprimanded him for indulging in alcohol because it might overtake him, and control his life; Harry could tell that his father's harshness, belied his truest emotions.

As Harry's eyes swept around the room, he thought his heart would burst out of his chest cavity, so powerful were the emotions that overwhelmed him. From the beautiful, majestic Christmas tree that stood so proudly in the centre of the parlour; displaying it's lush branches, adorned with hand-made crystal decorations, that glistened with the colours of the rainbow, and the tinsel dripping from the tips, to the candles that floated above each branch that to a Muggle would appear to be a normal candle dripping wax down its stem, but to a wizard, the candles seemed to float in mid-air, and produced no heat whatsoever.

The fire crackled in the hearth, taking the bite out of the early winter-morning chill. Through the frosted window panes, on the far side of the room, Harry could see large snowflakes falling down, blanketing the countryside in sparkling whiteness. Harry closed his eyes for a moment; he just wanted to savour this moment. This was what he'd imagined Christmas to be like, while he was locked in his cupboard and the rest of his family celebrated.

A deep chuckle from Severus startled Harry from his musings.

"I think that it's time you opened your other presents."

"Other presents?"

Severus smiled at Harry. His silky black hair framed his young, pale face, and his large emerald eyes still held the vigour and innocence of youth. Sheer pleasure emanated from the boy, and had pulled Severus out of his self-imposed misery; it gave him something that he thought he'd lost in his youth. Seeing the world through the eyes of his son, had pulled Severus from his jaded outlook on life. Severus was struck again by how little it took to please Harry; a throwback from his life with the Dursleys, Severus thought bitterly.

"Yes, your other presents," he drawled.

A wide grin lit up Harry's face.

Scrambling under the tree and grabbing a handful of presents, he made his way back to sit, cross-legged on the floor in front of Severus, who was leaning forward looking down at Harry with a smirk on his face.

Harry ripped open the next present with renewed frenzy, and pulled out a new satchel. He looked up at Severus questioningly.

"Uh...it's nice, but I already have one."

Severus raised one eyebrow.

"Ah yes, but I assure you, that this bag is very much unlike the other," he said sardonically.

Harry scrunched up his eyebrows. "How so?"

Severus picked up his teacup, took a sip, and leant back comfortably on the sofa—crossing his legs; the corner of his thin lips lifted in a small smirk.

"Open that compartment there," he said, pointing one long callused finger at the satchel.

Harry gingerly lifted up the corner of the soft tan leather flap to the largest compartment.

"Ouch!" Harry screeched as his finger was zapped by a small jolt of what felt like an electrical current, stinging the tip of his finger.

He scowled at his father. "What the hell kind of Christmas present is that?" he growled—nursing his smarting finger.

"The kind that could save your sanity...perhaps even your life," Severus said leaning forward to place the cup back on the saucer.

Harry's green eyes flicked up to meet his father's obsidian ones.

"How did you know?" Harry asked quietly.

"Harry, there is very little, in or out of the classroom that escapes my notice," he said dryly.

"Why didn't you intervene then, or give me detentions for something that wasn't my fault?"

Severus pressed his long fingers into his furrowed brow. "I apologise Harry, but frankly, I was hoping that you'd open up to me. I was loathe to interfere when you were obviously so adamant of handling the matter yourself."

Harry gave him a sheepish look, and shrugged. "I guess I didn't handle it too well after all, did I?"

Severus leant forward and steepled his hands together, leaning his elbows on his knees, and studied Harry intently for a moment.

"Harry, you don't have to do it all on your own anymore. I know that old habits are hard to break, but I'm your father, and I want to be there for you. I realise that this is unchartered territory for both of us. You asking for help, and me lending emotional support..." Severus paused a moment. He'd never been good with expressing his feelings, but he knew he had to try to convey to his son that although they were both new at this father and son thing, that he wanted to be there for him.

"But," he continued awkwardly, "Perhaps you could meet me halfway."

Harry felt his throat clog up with emotion. It was true; his father was right—he just had never had any adult he could ever count on before, and now that he was an adult himself, it was that much harder to reach out.

Harry nodded.

Harry curled the ribbon through his fingers, and said softly, "I wish that I'd had you in my life earlier. Then maybe..."

"Then maybe what?" Severus probed; although he could guess what Harry wanted to say.

Harry shook his head. "Never mind. You can't change the past."

"I'm sorry that I couldn't be the father you needed Harry."

Harry looked up with moist eyes. "That's okay. You are now, and that's what's important."

Harry jumped up suddenly, a crooked grin on his face. "Okay, enough of the mush; there are presents to open."

Severus allowed a small smile to transform his harsh features; he ignored the tug at his heart, as he imagined a scene of a much younger Harry, ripping open his Christmas presents, with joyous abandonment-and what could have been...

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Harry popped a chocolate frog into his mouth, and handed Severus an armful of presents.

Strains of Christmas Carols floated from the antique radio, perched on the mantelpiece. Of course Severus had grimaced at Harry's choice of music, but held his tongue; it was Harry's special day, and he could do what he liked-within reason, even if it meant listening to sappy, sweet Christmas Carols.

Severus rolled his eyes, as he peeled off the last layer of Christmas wrapping, to reveal a bright pair of Gryffindor-red woolen socks.

Harry smirked. "I thought that you could use some colour in your repertoire."

Severus quirked an eyebrow, and pointed at the silver and green-wrapped present on the floor beside Harry.

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Severus. "What's in here?" He rattled the gift.

Severus chuckled. "Nothing dangerous, I assure you."

Harry delicately opened the package. A deep green, terry-cloth bath-robe and matching slippers were inside.

"You did say that you were almost sorted into Slytherin," Severus said dryly.

Harry rolled his eyes.

Harry leant back to grab a sugar quill from his stocking.

"If you continue to gorge yourself with sweets, you won't be able to eat your breakfast," Severus said disapprovingly.

Harry grinned, and drew out a package of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavoured Beans; he handed one to Severus.

"I dare you."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "I do not indulge in sweets, as you are well aware, Harry."

Harry's eyes sparkled with mirth.

"Scared?"

"Hardly," Severus said dryly. He scowled and unwrapped the colourful wrapper.

Harry smirked, when Severus scowled, and placed the sweet gingerly in his mouth.

It was obvious, that the flavour was anything but enjoyable, when moments later, Severus' dark eyes watered, and his lips stretched into a grimace.

"What flavour did you get?" Harry asked curiously; he was certain that, it was bogey-flavoured, or some other equally foul-tasting flavour. Not that he thought that his father's pride would allow him to admit it.

"Never mind," he said tightly.

Harry chuckled.

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A warm glow settled over Harry, as he sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by mounds of discarded coloured wrapping paper. Severus was right, he was rather full from all the sweets that he'd indulged in, but after years of being deprived food at the Dursleys, he was not about to pass up on his favourite meal of the day-breakfast; a breakfast, where he was not made to cook the bacon, top his aunt and uncle's cups with hot coffee; often spilling the scalding liquid on himself, as he was barely able to reach the table, heaping his cousin's plate with second and third helpings; all while, his stomach grumbled painfully with hunger.

While Harry had received nowhere near the amount of presents that his spoilt cousin had received, the gifts that he'd received from his father had touched him in a way that he was certain that his cousin would never comprehend. And it was not the material value of the presents, either; yes, it was obvious that the leather-bound volume of, "Tactical Defence-An Auror's Handbook," must have been quite expensive, as was probably, the new dress robes, made from the finest silk, and just the same deep emerald-green as his eyes, and the shiny black patent-leather boots to go with the new robes, and the array of new shirts and trousers that Severus claimed he bought, because he knew that Harry was reluctant to buy, because he was just not used to spending money on himself. Of course Harry claimed it was rubbish, but Severus knew better. Harry's sense of self-worth had taken a beating at the hands of his relatives.

No, it was not the exorbitant amount of money that his father had obviously spent on him, but it was the sheer sentiment and thought that had gone into it, that had touched Harry so deeply, and help heal his bruised heart. Never had anyone, other than his friends and Sirius, ever treated Harry like he mattered, as though he were not just, "The Boy Who Lived," to be used and abused, and then discarded.

What really struck Harry, was the fact that he knew that his father normally did not celebrate Christmas in such a lavish manner, and would have, if not for Harry's presence, just ignored the holiday altogether, and been just as content to sit back with a glass of brandy, and perused his favourite Potions manual.

Severus tried hard to maintain his habitual aura of sternness, but glancing down at the rather large pile of presents that he'd received from his new son, it was hard not to pretend that there wasn't at least a crack in the veneer that was his shields. There were few people in his life who had ever bothered to treat him kindly; his mother, Lily and Albus were the exception.

Severus brushed a callused finger over the gold-filigree chain of the antique pocket watch that Harry had given him, and his heart hitched painfully as he opened the cover and stared down at the small picture of Lily that Harry had placed inside; red-gold hair shimmered like a halo around her freckled face. Severus fought down the ridiculous compulsion to feel his fingers run through her silky locks; it was just a portrait after all. She smiled up at him and waved, and for the first time, since he was a child, felt the sting of tears tug at the corner of his dark eyes.

Trying hard not to let the emotion seep through, and failing painfully, Severus lifted his obsidian eyes to meet Harry's expectant stare.

"Thank you Harry," he said, his deep voice, choked with emotion.

Harry just nodded; he couldn't have spoken, if he'd wanted to.

Severus placed his now, cold cup of coffee on the table. "Well, I believe it is time for breakfast, and then we should straighten up and begin the preparations for dinner."

"So, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are definitely coming then?" Harry asked curiously.

Severus rose from the couch, and grimaced as he pulled the belt to his new maroon bath robes tighter; Severus had to resist the urge to demand that he and Harry trade robes. Harry, contrary to Severus, didn't seem all that put out at having to wear Slytherin colours, Severus on the other hand, was quite used to wearing only his dark robes, and the glaring Gryffindor-red bathrobes felt foreign, and garish to his senses.

Harry stifled a chuckle at this father's poor attempts to hide his discomfort.

"Yes. Mr. Weasley assured me that all of the Weasleys were to be present." Severus was still not entirely comfortable with having a household of guests at his home. He was a quiet, reserved person, who preferred solitude and quiet, to bustling noisy cheer. Having a son was definitely making him soft, he reflected sardonically.

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Harry patted his full stomach, and leant back in his chair contentedly. He shook his head as he looked down at his empty plate. He had scoffed down, two eggs, five strips of bacon, three sausages, two slices of toast, topped with home-made raspberry jelly that Susan had sent over earlier this morning in a basket-full of goodies, decorated with a large Poinsettia on top. There had been Scottish shortbread, preserves, maple fudge with walnuts, liquor-filled chocolates and all sorts of other goodies that had made Harry's mouth water, despite having filled up on sweets earlier.

Harry was glad that Severus had a friend like Susan. He knew that Severus would never even think about becoming romantically involved with someone other than his mother, and Susan also had lost the love of her life tragically, and was not interested in pursuing a romantic involvement; he'd been an Auror, ironically enough, and had lost his life in the course of duty. It was no wonder that his father appeared to cringe-if such a thing were possible for Severus Snape, whenever Harry mentioned his career plans. But Harry was glad that each could be friends, and rely on each other, without having to worry about the other expecting more than they were capable of giving.

Severus sipped his coffee and peered over the top of his cup at Harry.

"There is something I must discuss with you, and I don't want you to feel pressured."

Harry patted his mouth with the napkin, and glanced up expectantly at this father; he shivered slightly at the rather serious expression that had suddenly crossed his father's pale features.

"Pressured about what?" Harry asked nervously.

Severus drained the last dregs of coffee from the bottom of his cup, before setting it down with a clank on the plate.

He placed his elbows on the crisp, white tablecloth-clad table, and steepled his hands together.

"It has been a tradition in the past-," he hesitated a moment.

Harry looked at him expectantly.

"Yeah.." he prompted.

"I'm not sure if I've mentioned to you before that I'm Draco's Godfather," Severus said quietly; assessing Harry's reaction carefully.

Harry's green eyes flickered with surprise. "No, I don't think that you have."

Severus nodded. "And as such..."

"You get together over the Christmas hols, don't you?" Harry finished for him.

"Yes we do. Or rather-we have in the past."

Harry bit his lip uncertainly. He just knew where this conversation was going...

"And I'm guessing that you'd like to, this Christmas as well?"

"I do not wish to pressure you into anything that you feel uncomfortable with. Narcissa has requested that she and Draco be permitted to visit."

Harry's stomach swooped.

"I realise that there are many painful memories for you with regards to Narcissa, and Draco and you have had, shall we say a rather colourful past," he said dryly, "so I'm not adverse to informing Narcissa that this year, a visit will not be possible."

"Did I ever tell you that Mrs. Malfoy saved my life?"

Severus' eyes narrowed in surprise.

"Yeah, I was pretending to be dead, and Voldemort asked her to see if I was still breathing, and she lied to him. She lied to him. Do you believe it? If it wasn't for her, I'd be toast," he said dryly. "Imagine that. I owe my life to a Malfoy. And to think, that maybe even Voldemort wouldn't be gone if it weren't for her. How ironic is that? Of course, her concern was really only for Draco, but still..."

"I had no idea," Severus whispered.

"So, I suppose that I do owe her something. Even if Malfoy is an arse, I suppose that I could put up with him for a few hours."

"You truly are your mother's son Harry."

"And my father's as well," Harry said with a crooked grin. "If Malfoy pulls something, I'll hex him into the next universe."

Severus chuckled. "Well, if you must, but do try not to demolish the house in the process."

"You got it Dad."

Dad; Severus looked at his son, and thought again how he didn't deserve the happiness that he felt at this moment; not when he'd tortured the boy for so long, and had been so selfish and cruel. Severus thanked Merlin that his son had inherited Lily's pure heart, and compassion, as well as her capacity for forgiveness, and he thanked the heavens above, that his stubborn son had done something as foolish as risking his life and sanity, and had given him another chance, even though Severus had been an ungrateful, pig-headed idiot.