December, 1988

One week before Christmas:

Harry wasn't feeling the Christmas spirit this year very much at all.  He had just had his eighth birthday in July and was approaching an awkward stage, neither a little boy, but not yet old enough to attend Hogwarts. He was betwixt and between, as Augustus would say, and part of him longed to be a little boy again and allow his father and great-grandfather to tell him what to do, and another part rebelled and longed to be given more responsibility. His kitten, Calin, kept him on his toes, and he enjoyed taking care of her, she provided him with endless amusement and company when his two best friends, Blaise and Neville, were absent. He knew she adored him and he did her, the bond between them was strong. 

Even so, he felt . . .dissatisfied this holiday season.  He had gone Christmas shopping with Severus that morning and seen the brand new prototype in Quality Quidditch Supplies of their newest racing model, a Starcatcher 1900, and had immediately whined to get one. He couldn't help it, even though he knew Severus would say no. The broom was glorious, all shiny and racy and looking like it was flying even standing still. It was the hot new item this year, and any trueblooded wizard kid who loved Quidditch wanted one.

Harry knew that the broom was expensive, but he also knew that his father was one of the top paid Potions Masters anywhere in the British Isles, and his grandfather was from old money too. Augustus had begun teaching him about his heritage last year and he had not bothered to hide the fact that the Princes, and by extension the Snapes too, were old-money aristocracy.  So Harry knew money was no object.

Severus was.

Severus refused to allow Harry on a full-sized broom, much less a fast racing model, until he was at least eleven, and maybe even twelve. He was adamant that a child could not handle such a powerful model, not even one who was a natural flyer like Harry.

Harry knew this. But he couldn't help asking anyway. And when Severus had told him no, he was too young, he couldn't help feeling angry and embarrassed. Then he did something he hadn't done in a very long time. He had a rather loud tantrum, right in the middle of the store.

Oh, not the three-year-old kind, where he screamed and threw himself on the floor, but the eight-year-old version, where he grew extremely annoying and whiny and pouted until he looked as if he'd swallowed a vile-flavored Bertie Bott's Bean. "You always treat me like I'm a baby, Papa!" he'd whined at first, glaring sulkily at his father. "I'm plenty big enough to ride that new broom. I'm outgrowing my old one. Why can't I have it?"

Severus gave him a warning look. "You know why, Harry. Now quit whining."

Harry stamped his foot a bit on the floor.  "It's no fair. If I'm big enough to get a pet, I can ride a broom like the Starcatcher. I'm a good flyer, even Grandpa says so. He's says I'm a natural."

Severus bit his lip exasperatedly. "Natural or not, you aren't ready to handle something with that much sheer speed spelled into it. You aren't experienced enough and you're just too young. Sorry if you don't like to hear it, son, but it's the truth. I'm not going to buy you something just so it can sit in a shed until you're of age to fly it, and risk being a temptation."

At that precise moment, Harry happened to look over at the counter, and saw Draco Malfoy and his mother, Narcissa, paying for a Starcatcher, the very same one Severus had refused to get Harry. Jealousy erupted all over Harry like a plague of boils. Draco was getting one and Draco was his age, and Draco's mother didn't think he was too little! How was that fair?

"But Papa, look at that!" Harry pointed to where the proprietor was gleefully wrapping the brand new broom in golden tissue and boxing it in the specially padded box with the glimmering spangles and the sweeping logo on it-Go and Catch a Falling Star with the Starcatcher 1900! Let your dreams take flight among the stars!  "Draco Malfoy's getting one and he ain't any older than me!"

"He isn't any older than you," corrected Severus automatically. Then he added, "I don't care what the Malfoys do or don't do, they aren't a member of my family. You are, and the last thing I need is for you to break your neck riding a broom that's meant for an adult."

Harry could hear the note of finality in his father's tone, but for once he paid no heed to it. Lately, he'd been testing his boundaries with Severus again, and he was in no mood to let this go without a fight. "I won't fall, Papa! I'm a good flyer! Better than you!"

Severus' eyebrows slashed down in a V so sharp it was a miracle they did not meet in the middle of his face. "Henry Snape, you are getting very close to being grounded over the holiday. Now mind your mouth, young man! Your attitude is atrocious!"

"But I really wa-a-nt it," he whined with the annoying edge to his voice that never failed to set Snape's teeth on edge.

"Too bad. You can't always have everything you want," Severus said, trying to keep his temper.

Harry pouted. "Fine! I'll just ask Father Christmas!" he said smugly. "He'll get me it if you won't."

"Think so? You'll be lucky if you get anything from him the way you're behaving, Henry Snape! Whining and pouting and acting like a five-year-old brat."

"I'm not five, I'm eight!" Harry cried, stung.

"Oh? I couldn't tell from the way you've been acting like a spoiled brat and speaking so disrespectfully to me. It's not the end of the world if you wait a year or two for a Starcatcher. Take a look over here at the Silverstreak model. It's more suited for your height and age-"

"No! I don't want that old broom!" Harry snapped mutinously. "It's a piece of trash. I want the Starcatcher or nothing at all!"

"Very well. Then you shall have nothing," Severus declared frostily. And with that he took Harry firmly by the shoulder and marched him out of the shop.

"Lemme go!" Harry cried, wriggling and squirming to get free of his father's hand.

Severus stopped and bent down until he was eye to eye with his son. "If you do not stop this instant, I shall pick you up and carry you over my shoulder, to every shop I go into, and everyone will see you carrying on like a whiny spoilt baby. Is that what you want?"

"No." Harry gasped. "You can't do that, Papa!"

"I can and I shall if you don't quit this awful behavior. Decide. Now." Severus straightened, his arms crossed, fixing his son with his most potent disappointed gaze.

Harry gulped and his old sense of self-preservation reared its head. "Okay," he said sulkily.

Severus gave a short nod then took his hand, much to Harry's embarrassment, and made him walk beside him all the way back to Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, where the proprietor, Sandra, gave him a discount and flirted with him. Severus would have been more appreciative if he hadn't still been angry over his son's behavior, and lingered a bit to "talk shop", but with the mood his son was in, he deemed it safer to hurry up and so he exchanged Merry Christmas wishes with her and paid for his purchases and left. Sandra looked a bit hurt and inwardly he cursed himself for being insensitive.

He also longed to shake Harry until his teeth rattled for being so obnoxious. He did not like this new attitude at all, and he was determined to nip it in the bud. Since when did his son become so hung up with getting things?

They visited several other shops, and in each one his son whined and asked for something, and was not satisfied with Severus telling him to wait till Christmas, that he had enough toys and books to occupy him till then. The boy sulked and acted obnoxious and refused to help Severus pick out presents for either his friends or Augustus.

At first, Severus tried to appeal to his son's greater knowledge and said, "But Harry, you know what Neville and Blaise like more than I do, so you need to pick out the present. Otherwise, they might end up getting something they don't need or want."

"So? Then they can return it."

Severus ground his teeth. "Don't you want to get them something special?"

Harry shrugged. "You pick it out. Nev likes plants and Blaise likes Quidditch."

"They're your friends, it'll mean more if you pick their present out," Severus tried again to coax Harry out of his sulky mood.

"No! Just pick out anything, I don't care!"

Now Severus began to grow really angry.  "Young man, Christmas is supposed to be the season of giving," he began.

"But you won't give me what I really want!" Harry objected.

"Is that all you're concerned about? Getting what you want? Is that what you think Christmas is about?"

"Christmas is about making lists and getting presents," Harry replied, though a part of him knew deep down that Christmas was more than that. But right then all he could focus on was how much he wanted the Starcatcher and how unfair it was of Severus to not get him it and then he had to hope that Father Christmas would get him one, but what if he didn't? "And all I really want is the Starcatcher."

"Well, you won't be getting it from me. And don't think you can bamboozle your grandfather into it either, because he knows my rules-no adult brooms until you're of school age."

"Then Christmas will ruddy suck this year!" Harry wailed, bursting into tears. "How come Draco gets one and I don't? It's not fair! I need one too!"

Severus counted to fifty. He mentally wanted to hex the makers of that bloody broom, Narcissa and Draco for coming into the store at that exact moment and buying the bloody thing, and Harry for being so stubborn and materialistic. Why did everything new have to come out during the holidays? Just when kids would see it and want it and drive their parents insane whining about it? Merlin's bloody beard!

"Child, what you need right now is a good wallop and you're lucky I'm not your grandfather, or else that's what you'd be getting!" Severus growled, his temper in shreds. "It's not all about what you want. Now quit this obsessive whining and pick out presents for your friends. Or else we can go home and you can spend the rest of the afternoon grounded to your room."

Normally that dire threat worked, but this time it didn't. Harry continued to cry and Severus' last nerve snapped and he ended up tossing the child over his shoulder and Apparating back home, where he placed his son in his room, after taking away all the toys and games and books, and saying, "You can stay in here until you apologize to me for your behavior this afternoon and stop acting like a spoiled brat. That's not how I taught you to behave."

Then Severus shut the door and made his way downstairs before he truly lost it and did something he would regret.

* * * * * *

"Where did I go wrong, Grandfather?" Severus asked the older man wearily, accepting the small glass of wine Hotspur handed him and sitting down across from Augustus in the elder Prince's study.  "All of a sudden he's become this . . .this whiny, self-centered, greedy brat. When did it happen? More important, how did it happen? I've never gotten him everything he's asked for, not even for Christmas. I don't understand. Was I too soft on him? I've tried not to reward that sort of behavior. I thought I taught him that it's better to give than to receive, but I guess I . . .didn't teach it well enough or else he wouldn't be so . . .so bloody stuck up. I've failed him as a parent."

Augustus remained silent for a total of five seconds, he could not believe what had just come out of his grandson's mouth. "Severus Snape, bite your tongue! Will you listen t'yourself? You're talking utter rot! Don't you go blamin' yourself for the way the little bugger's been acting, when all children act that way sometimes.  Henry's got a bad case of the I want it now disease, which is normal for a child his age. I was the very same when I was eight. Failed him as a parent! Bah! You're as good a father as any I know, and better than some. Including me."

"I . . .I am?"

"Aye, you noddlehead," Augustus said firmly, looking an astonished Snape right in the eye.

"But I'm not half as strict as you, Grandfather. Maybe that's the problem."

Augustus coughed. "Severus, for the love of Merlin! You and I might not see eye to eye on discipline all the time, but that doesn't make you wrong. Just different. And I'll be the first to admit I wasn't a perfect father, seeing as how I never apologized to my own daughter for being a stubborn proud ass before she died. That's one mistake I can never atone for." He said sadly. "But you ought to be asking yourself, not where you went wrong, but what you can do about getting that tyke to see the true spirit of Christmas."

"What should I do?"

Augustus cleared his throat. "Well, Severus, the answer's not as simple as you might think. Let me tell you a little story. Like I said before, I was just like young Henry at that age, filled up with my own selfish wants and not giving a damn about anything else. Not even on Christmas. I thought the holiday was all about me and what I wanted. Until my grandfather got a hold of me one afternoon and did something I will never forget." He paused to take a sip of tea.

"What's that? Tanned your arse with a ruler?" Severus asked, faintly sarcastic.

Augustus snorted. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? But no, he did something else, something that drove home to me the fact that I should learn to appreciate what I had even more than a spanking would have. He told me that I needed to stop being selfish and unappreciative and see how the other half lived. The half that worked long hours for pittance and made just enough to keep the wolf from the door . . .and he took me on a little trip . . .only then did I see that Christmas was more than just sweets and presents and plum pudding."

"And you think I ought to do that with Harry? He's not too young to understand it?"

"No. He's a bright lad, Severus. Too bright sometimes. Try it. It cured me."

"All right," Severus agreed. What did he have to lose?

Augustus watched Severus leave and hoped that his advice would help his great-grandson as well as it had himself. He saw many similarities between young Henry and himself, and he wished that Severus would come to him and tell him about the secret concerning the boy, even if it did mean confessing that he had slept with a married woman, or maybe she had not been married then, and simply passed the boy off as her husband's? Augustus knew that there were magics-women's magics-that could delay and speed up pregnancy as well as prevent it. Lily might have done that. Augustus was willing to bet that she might have never told Severus that he was the father of the baby and maybe Severus had found out afterwards and taken the child back from the Muggles.

But either way, Augustus did not want to interrogate his grandson like he would a suspect that had committed a crime. He loved Severus like he would have a son, and he knew how much the other wizard valued his privacy. He did not want to accuse Severus of kidnapping the boy, though Augustus feared that was what had happened. He wanted, above all for Severus to come clean and trust him, but so far his grandson remained locked up tight like a clam.

The old wizard sighed. It was a good thing he had learned how to be patient over the course of his one hundred and two years.

* * * * * *

 "Get on your cloak and gloves and boots," Severus ordered a still-sulking Harry. "We're going out."

Harry looked up at him from underneath his fringe of auburn hair. Maybe his papa had changed his mind? It would mean a miracle had occurred, but then . . .wasn't Christmastime supposed to be a season of miracles? "Out where? Back to Diagon Alley?"

"You'll see," was all Severus said, then motioned impatiently for Harry to put on his outerwear.

Harry obeyed, thinking Severus had changed his mind and was maybe going to order the Starcatcher for him. Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be the one he'd rather forget after all.

"Ready, Papa." He stated the obvious.

"Take my hand," Severus said.

Harry did so and Severus drew him close, then he concentrated and between one blink and the next Apparated back to his old home in Whitechapel, near St. Paul's. As a resident of Foxfire Hall, Severus could use conventional means of wizarding transport instead of the Port Key if he so chose, the protections on the manor "recognized" his unique magical signature as one who belonged. The lord of Foxfire Hall also had the ability to lower the protections to permit a witch or wizard or child inside them bearing a certain magical signature, which was how the Longbottoms and Zabinis could come and go. Anyone else trying to tag along, however, would run smack into the wards and be rejected strongly. Another safeguard was that no one could mentally or magically compel the lord to release the wards, it had to be done freely of the lord's own choice.

 Severus hadn't been back in his old neighborhood since he'd contacted Augustus that long ago Christmas, but he remembered it all too well. His flat had been the first in a series of six tenements, though the only one without children in it, until he had rescued Harry from the manger.

Harry looked around, confused and upset. "Papa, where are we? This isn't Diagon Alley. I thought we were going there so you could get the Starcatcher."

Severus gave him a severe frown. "Quiet! I brought you here so you could learn something very important about Christmas and what it truly means. In a moment we'll be invisible and no one will be able to see or hear us. I want you to pay attention to the families here and realize that Christmas doesn't come from a store. Nor is it all about getting lots of presents from Father Christmas."

"I don't understand."

"You will. That's partially my fault, I've spoiled you without meaning to," Severus sighed. "I never wanted you to go without the way I-never mind, just watch and listen."

"Can I ask questions?"

"Yes, of course. That's how you learn." Then Severus cast a twofold Invisibility and Cloak of Silence about himself and his son and they vanished from view. He carefully led Harry out of the alley they had appeared in and into the second building where he knew there were at least three families with young children. Or at least there had been.

Sure enough, there still were families living there with small and not-so-small children, though most of them were not the ones he recalled, but it didn't matter. He led Harry up the stairs to the second floor and carefully performed an Unlocking charm to let them inside the flat.

Harry wrinkled his nose at the smell of rusty pipes and garbage, mingled with the aroma of cinnamon and sugar. "It smells funny in here," he said.

"That's because the plumbing is leaking," Severus told him.

"Why don't they fix it then?"

"Because they don't have the money. Not everyone lives in a nice manor like Foxfire Hall, son. Millions of people live in rundown flats like this and have to make the best of it."

Harry looked around. The flat was dingy and the only lights came from bare bulbs set high in the ceiling. The walls were painted a yellowish color and some of them had holes in them, that had been covered by handmade Christmas paper chains and scrawled homemade pictures drawn by the children who lived here. There was a threadbare blue carpet on the floor, stained with old coffee spills and other less pleasant things.  The furniture was nicked and scratched, the sofa had holes in the upholstery, nothing matched.

Harry stared. "Why would anybody want to live here?"

"Because it's better than living in the street," Severus explained. "At least here they have a roof over their heads and heat and light. And furniture to sit on even if it doesn't match."

"Why don't they get furniture that does?"

"Because they need the money to pay rent and feed and clothe their families. Furniture matching isn't important."

The flat was small and cramped, the old radiator under the window creaked and groaned and Harry felt both hot and cold. He saw a tiny tree sitting upon an old strip of a table runner next to the window. It was decorated sparsely with a few cheap ornaments and cutouts and a plastic star crowned the top. It was the sorriest Christmas tree Harry had ever seen.

He opened his mouth to ask Severus why they didn't have something that looked like a real tree, then closed it. He already knew the answer would be because they couldn't afford it. For the first time Harry began to understand how a lack of money affected people.

Then they moved further into the flat and Harry saw how there were only two bedrooms and it looked like the children who lived there shared a room, there were bunkbeds and a single dresser and a closet that looked the size of Harry's linen closet back at the manor. It was filled with dresses and jeans and tops for two girls of different ages.

Harry looked about for toys but all he saw was a lone doll or two with the hair sticking up dressed in faded clothing and a shabby stuffed dog and a lion, plus  a few coloring books and a box of crayons. That was all.

On the dresser was scattered a few cheap plastic tubes of lip gloss and some plastic jewelry, the kind you could get at a sixpence store, made from twine and plastic charms or cheap metal. Above the dresser was a small cracked mirror and some cutout pictures of cute animals and a large Christmas tree all covered with glittery ornaments and next to it on the margin was written Someday I Want One Like This!

I would too if I lived here, Harry thought.

Just then they heard the sound of feet coming up the stairs. Harry went to hide behind Severus, until he remembered the spell and then he froze where he was. The door to the flat opened and  two girls, one about Harry's age and the other about eleven or twelve, entered. Both were wearing plaid skirts and white collared blouses, knee socks and black loafers. The older girl had her hair pulled back and the younger was in braids tied with blue string. Both had on coats that were too big and mittens that had been knitted from different colored yarn.

They stood for a moment in the middle of the living room, stamping their feet and shivering. "Ohh, but it's not much warmer in here than out there, Mitzi," said the older girl. She walked over and gave the radiator a thump with her foot. "Blasted old thing! It's not working again. Wish Mum could get a new one."

"Too expensive, Carla," muttered the smaller one, she moved to stand by her sister, putting her hands on the radiator to warm them.

Harry saw that both sisters had blond hair and dark eyes and their cheeks were red from the cold.

They stood there for five minutes trying to get warm before Mitzi drew away and said, "I'm thirsty, Carla."

"There's a bit of milk in the fridge, but mind you don't drink it all. Mum doesn't get paid till the end of the week."

The little girl nodded and moved into the small kitchen, Harry watched as she returned and sat on the sofa with a very small cup of milk and a piece of thin white bread. She did not gobble it down the way he usually did with his snacks, but ate slowly and drank in small sips and then she licked her fingers.

"Carla, d'you think we got enough to buy Mum a present this year?"

The older girl turned and shrugged. "Dunno. Get your sock and my box an' we'll count it. I got tuppence yesterday for givin' old Asher the empty cans and bottles I found."

Mitzi rose and went into her room, almost brushing Harry as she did so.

He jumped and crowded against Severus' knees. "Papa, she almost touched me!"

"It's all right, Harry. My magic won't let her see or hear or even feel us." Severus reassured. But he did take several steps away from the bedroom to make Harry feel comfortable.

She returned moments later with a long green sock tied up at one end and a shoebox with Private-Keep Out! written across it in red marker. "Got ‘em."

Carla came and sat down upon the creaky sofa and she carefully opened first her shoebox and then Mitzi's sock and placed the coins on each side of the table. "You count yours and I'll do mine, then I'll add ‘em."

It took them less than five minutes to count the small pile of change.

"85 pee," announced Carla.

"Is it enough t'get the bubble bath in the box?"

Carla chewed her lip. "Maybe. Unless the price's gone up."

Harry looked at Severus. "Is that a lot?"

Severus shook his head. "No. It's not even a pound. It's close to three Sickles or two and a half Sickles and thirteen Knuts."

Harry blinked. "But that . . .that could buy a chocolate bar. Maybe two if they weren't big."

"Yes, and they've saved all the loose coins they have all year to buy their mother a single present."

"Doesn't seem like much." He switched his attention back to the two girls.

"Think she'll like it, Carla? I think it's real pretty, it smells like roses."

"Sure she will. And I'll make her a card and it'll be great."

Mitzi sighed. "Sure wish we could get her a real present. Like a new coat or . . .or some earrings. Like the other girls at school do their mums."

"Hey. You know what Mum always says. It's not what you get for a gift, it's the thought that counts."

"I wish my thoughts could become real then," said Mitzi wistfully.

"Silly twit!" Carla said affectionately. "Someday when I become a famous actress, we'll have all the money we could ever want. Heaps of it."

"How much?"

"So much that . . .I'll paper my bedroom in it!" Carla giggled.

"And what else . . .?"

"I'll have enough to live in a big house too and get mum a car so she don't have to walk to work and new shoes and clothes that are new . . ."

"Like Minnie Miller? She got a new dress the other day for Christmas. Said it was a red silk one and it cost 40 quid!" Mitzi exclaimed.

Carla whistled.

"I wish I could have a silk dress like that."

"You can. Just close your eyes and dream it." Carla advised.

Mitzi sighed. "I wish I had the real thing and not a dream."

"Someday you will. But for now dreams are free and don't cost a thing," her sister said.

Severus smiled sadly. He too could recall many nights when he had used dreams of what could be to sustain him at Spinner's End. "Do you see, Harry? The dreams give them hope, and that is more precious than Galleons.  And better than any present."

Harry watched them for a few minutes more, trying to understand how dreams could be better than actual things. Strangely, the girls seemed to be happy despite living in a place the size of the drawing room at Foxfire Hall that had bad heat and smelled weird and the fact that they could only buy a present that cost the same amount as a chocolate bar. 

He scratched his head, puzzled.

"Come, Harry." Severus then left the small flat, taking Harry to another one where a mother and her three children were baking gingerbread from a single ready-made box, it made twelve, and then carefully saving them for Christmas wrapped in plastic wrap on a paper plate.

"Think we'll get the food basket this year, Mummy?" asked a small boy wearing a rolled up jumper and jeans with a patch on them.

"Maybe, Tim. Bishop Paul might pick our name from the list again," answered his mother, she was thin and weary, wearing an old polka dot print shirt and brown pants. She looked about twenty-eight.

"I hope we get turkey," said an older child, he was about nine.

"I want chicken. Tastes better." A girl of about seven said.

"Does not."

"Does too!"

"Andrew and Lisa, stop wrangling! You'll be grateful we've got food to put in your mouths this year an' there's an end to it. With your father getting' laid off on account o' the factory closin', you ought to be glad you're not eating tinned beef and apples like some I know."

The children made a face, then stopped quarreling.

Severus explained to Harry that St. Paul's gave out Christmas dinner baskets to some of the needy families in the parish. "The baskets are donated by other families who can afford to give poor ones a Christmas dinner. But there are never enough to go around, so they have a drawing of names and if you're lucky, your family gets picked. Otherwise, you make do with what you have."

"But . . .what if you've got nothing but soup and . . .and crackers?"

"Then that's what you eat," Severus answered.

Harry thought about that. It seemed very strange to think that someone's dinner came from another person or that Christmas dinner could be had without a stuffed turkey and gravy and buttered mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, salad, and sweets.

He looked at the faces of the children, they were thin but not starving and didn't really seem all that concerned about what they would get for Christmas dinner. He thought about his own Christmas dinner and wondered what these children would make of it.

He thought they might like it better than any kind of toy.

Severus took Harry all over Whitechapel and finally he showed him the orphanage where he had once considered leaving him. It was there that Harry learned that sometimes the deepest wish was not for material things, like toys or food or clothes, but for a family.

"Then why doesn't someone adopt them?" he asked. "Is it ‘cause they're mean or naughty?"

"No, son. It's not because they've done anything. It's just . . .there are many orphaned children and not enough people who are willing to take a strange child into their homes, especially ones who are older."

"Then why don't they ask Father Christmas?"

Severus was almost caught by that one. But his sly Slytherin mind quickly came up with an answer after a few minutes. "Sometimes even Father Christmas cannot grant all wishes, Harry. And many of the children here no longer believe in him and he can't come to those who don't believe . . ."

Harry understood and suddenly he imagined what it would be like to be one of those children, alone, without his father and grandfather, and Hotspur and Lina. "It's not Christmas without a family," he cried, and threw his arms about Severus. "Or if it is, it's not a real nice one."

"No, but these children have only each other and still they have Christmas come." Severus knelt and took his son gently by the shoulders, thinking but for the grace of God, that would have been you, had I not found you when I did and had not Augustus taken us in. "Do you see now why I was so angry with you for throwing a fit over a mere broom? Do you see how you need to start appreciating the things you take for granted, Harry? Like warm clothes and a roof over your head and your family to share the holiday with?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."

Severus could see the comprehension dawn in the emerald eyes and breathed a silent prayer of thanks. "And . . .do you know that once I was just like those children I showed you?"

"You were? But I thought . . ." Harry was stunned.

"You thought I grew up at Foxfire Hall surrounded by house elves and money?" Severus shook his head. "No, Harry. I grew up poor and struggling, my father was a Muggle who spent all my mother's money on drink and I too lived in a house that was always cold and where we barely had enough to eat and I was lucky if I got three presents on Christmas.  It wasn't till I went to Hogwarts that I learned what a real Christmas feast was, or saw a tree that was decorated with something other than paper and bits of foil and plastic. Oh, yes, I remember . . .and that is why I give donations to this orphanage every year and also at St. Paul's."

"Does it make a difference?"

"I hope so. Every little bit helps. Do you remember all those Christmas carols you sang a week ago? How many of them were about getting presents? Only one or two, right? But most of them were about what?"

Harry frowned and thought. "Helping people. Peace and love and goodwill towards man," he recited.

"Very good. That is what Christmas should be about. Not you getting the most expensive broom because you want it and Draco Malfoy has it." Severus said. Then he Apparated them back home, where he took Harry back to his room, sat him on his lap, and said, "Now, I'm going to read you a story. This was a book I got as a boy and I must have read it over and over on Christmas." He summoned an old dog-eared copy of the Christmas classic by Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

Then he read it to Harry, who listened attentively, until it was over.

Severus closed the book and gave it to his son. "Here. This is now yours. You can read it again if you'd like, but I want you to think about what the book says about Christmas and what you saw with me today.  Hopefully you've learned something."

He set Harry on his feet. "I'll call you when it's time for supper."

Harry watched as his father left the room, clutching the book to him. Then he went and sat on his bed.  He had much to think about. And much to be thankful about.

 He looked at his room and thought about what he had seen and heard and learned that day. And for the first time he started to feel ashamed at how he had acted. He had indeed behaved like a spoiled brat. He had more than any of those other children and yet he had wanted more. He thought about the Grinch and how he had tried to steal Christmas, only to realize Christmas was not the trimmings, it was something you felt in your heart.

Something that he had stopped feeling.

Until now.

Then he jumped off his bed and started going through his toy box and the shelf in the closet.

* * * * * *

 When Severus came up to call Harry for supper, he found a rather large pile of toys and books sitting in the middle of the floor. "Harry, what on earth is all this? Why is there a royal mess in your room?"

Harry looked up fearlessly at his tall scowling parent. "It's not a mess, Papa. I was just going through all my toys and these . . .well, I don't really need all of ‘em. And I thought maybe those other kids would like them, the ones over at the orphanage, ‘cause you said they're wizard kids and Muggles can't have wizard toys. So then I got the Muggle ones some books." He gestured at the pile of books strewn haphazardly about.

"You want to make a donation to the orphanage?" Severus repeated, his anger ebbing away. "And to those children over in Whitechapel?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you sure you wish to do this?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it's like you said. Christmas is a time of giving. And this is all I have to give." Then he added, "And I'm sorry I made a fuss and told you off like that before."

Severus smiled. "I'm proud of you, Harry." Then he knelt and summoned several magical bags to put all the toys and books in. "Thank you for thinking of others instead of yourself. I forgive you for your rude behavior.  Next time try and control yourself." He made a mental note to thank Augustus for his input.

* * * * * *

Christmas morning came and Harry opened his gifts. There was no Starcatcher under the tree, but Harry did not feel disappointed . . .much.  After breakfast, he began wondering about the sack of toys he and Severus had left at the orphanage, with a simple note that had read-Merry Christmas to all, from Harry. Had they liked the toys? Had it been enough for everyone? They had also left books and hair ribbons for the two sisters and a Christmas basket for the other family over in Whitechapel.

He slipped from his seat, stepped over his calico cat, who was snoozing next to his chair, and whispered something in Severus' ear.

"You want to go where?" Severus was startled. "Now?"

"Please, Papa. I need to see."

"Very well. Grandfather, we'll be back soon."

Augustus looked puzzled. "Where in Merlin's name are you going on Christmas morning, Severus?"

"I'll tell you when we get back," Severus said, then he had Harry put on his coat and gloves and they Apparated to Whitechapel first. Inside the small flat, Mitzi and Carla exclaimed over the bounty of gifts, the bright new hair ribbons and beautifully illustrated classic fairy tales of the Grimms Brothers and Hans Christian Anderson, bound in the softest leather.

"Mum, how'd you ever afford these?" asked Carla, her mouth agape, running her hand over and over the gilt cover.

"I . . .didn't." Her mum said, staring in a daze at the gifts that had appeared beneath the shabby tree, wrapped in glittering paper. "It must have been Father Christmas."

Her eldest rolled her eyes and Mitzi clapped her hands and yelled. "See? I told you he was real, Carla!"

"Mum, really . . .where'd you get them?" Carla whispered.

"It wasn't me, Carla. When I came to put the gifts under the tree they were already there. I have no idea where they came from."

Carla blinked. "But we can keep ‘em?"

Her mother nodded and then wondered who could have done such a thing. None of her neighbors had money to spend like this, on children not their own. Maybe Mitzi was right and there really was a spirit of Christmas.

"They liked ‘em!" Harry said, grinning. He felt absurdly happy.

"Of course. When I was a little boy, some of my best friends were books," Severus told him, ruffling his hair, which had darkened to a deep auburn. And they were still, the Potions Master thought fondly.

Then they went and saw the same looks of puzzled disbelief and delight on the faces of the other family as well. Severus had given them a Foxfire Hall Christmas basket, with all sorts of food and goodies, plus toys and books he and Harry had picked out in the London shops.

"An angel or a Good Samaritan must have sent it, Ralph, because even St. Paul's had never given away anything so grand!" the astonished mother was telling her bug-eyed husband as they unpacked the basket with its seemingly bottomless contents. "I don't know how everything fit in here. Oh, look, a real plum pudding with brandy sauce, just like my mum used to make! And a lovely glazed ham!"

"Ain't that something! A regular bloomin' miracle!" exclaimed her husband, while around them Andrew and Timmy played with their new toy train, which looked very like the Hogwarts Express, and Lisa rocked her soft cloth doll in her arms, it had red hair and green eyes like a certain girl Severus used to know.

Harry smothered a giggle at being compared to an angel. Silly lady, didn't she know angels had wings?

Finally, they Apparated to the orphanage called Angel Haven.

Cloaked in Severus' magic, they watched from the hallway, and Harry saw all of the children playing happily with the toys he had given them, even the older ones who claimed they were "too old" for such things.  Some were reading the books he had left, and Severus had donated some more texts suitable for the teenaged orphans.

Everyone seemed cheerful and enjoying themselves and the elder witches who ran the orphanage were watching the kids and beaming.

"Look, isn't it wonderful, Bess, to see them all so happy and well . . .so carefree this Christmas?"

"It is, Beatrice. I've never seen them so excited, and it's all because of that last minute gift left upon the porch. I wish we knew who this "Harry" person was so we could owl him and thank him. Such a thoughtful and generous gift! Some of those toys looked brand new! And magical ones besides . . ."

Harry felt his heart warm when he heard those words from the witch and saw the joy his gift had brought to those who had so little joy in their lives. And he felt better than he would have getting the Starcatcher. A lot better.

A line from Dr. Seuss floated into his head then.  "Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store.  Maybe Christmas . . .perhaps . . .means a little bit more!"

He turned his head and looked up at Severus, without whom he never would have learned that lesson, and he said, "Papa, can we do this again, next year?"

"So you like playing Father Christmas then?" queried his parent, his own heart thrilling to hear those words from his son.

"Yes. Can we?"

"We can, Harry. And now, let's leave them to their happy Christmas and go back and keep your grandpa company. Because no one should be alone on Christmas." Then the two secret helpers returned to Foxfire Hall, and as Severus pulled off his gloves he thought that perhaps Augustus had been right and he wasn't such bad father after all.

Except there was one lesson he never wanted Harry to learn, and that was how to keep a secret for years on end. He knew that the time was fast approaching when Harry would be attending Hogwarts and he dreaded that time, because he knew he had to reveal the truth about his past, and he feared he would never have the courage to admit to the child he adored that he too was an orphan and the man he called "Papa" was a liar. He feared Harry's rejection even more than he did Augustus', and so he kept his silence. Let the child keep his innocence a few years longer.

Severus tucked his gloves into his coat pocket, then went to sit with his family, his heart heavy with the secret he carried, the secret that could shatter his family once spoken aloud.