There was a knock at the Potions Master's door. Severus looked up from his parchment-work to stare at said door accusingly. It had been three days since most of the snot-nosed brats had left the castle for the holidays and the man saw no reason why those remaining should have any reason to bother him. The majority of his fellow staff were still around, of course, but he saw no reason why they should bother him, either.

Nonetheless, that did not change the fact that someone was knocking at his office door.

"Come," Severus finally called, having suppressed a sigh at having his peace disrupted. He watched as the door opened and a head bedecked in messy black hair peeked around it. Folding his arms across his chest, the man leaned back in his chair and stared blandly at the boy. The brat had the cheek to smile at him.

"Good evening, professor," came the cheerful greeting. Without further beckoning, the boy stepped into the room and approached his desk. Without so much as a by-your-leave, the menace placed a small, brightly wrapped parcel atop his documents. A long-fingered hand reached forward almost tentatively to pick it up, turning it this way and that, as though clueless as to what it might be. The wrapping paper had broomsticks and snitches scattered between trees and snowmen. How very predictable.

"And just... what is this supposed to be, Mr. Potter?" Severus arched a brow at the boy.

"It's a Christmas present, sir," Harry laughed. The Potions Master was not aware he had said anything funny.

"I can see that, Potter," he drawled. "Why are you placing it on my desk?"

The boy just smiled at him again for a moment. It was an idea the man was still not accustomed to, Potter's face gracing him with so benign an expression. And Harry had inherited much from his father: Potter's features, Potter's unruly nest of hair, and apparently Potter's obsession with Quidditch, judging by the boy's frequent references to the sport in essays. (Granted, Rolanda had to be at least partly to blame for the Quidditch.)

But this Potter did smile at him, from the very first day he had arrived at the school, in fact. It was not as though he treated the boy any differently than he treated any of the other students. He was still the foreboding, ill-tempered dungeon bat that despised students in general and Gryffindors in particular. He still favored his own house above others, and he was still quick to verbally flay the unfortunate child who messed up a potion.

None of this seemed to phase the boy. Did he not get it? It did not matter that the child was well-mannered and polite. It did not matter that he showed of modicum of potential in potions. That he was vaguely tolerable for a brat his age or that he behaved far more like his mother most days than his father did not change the facts, nor did the Potions Master's own part in saving the boy from a unhappy home life. Severus Snape could not be on friendly terms with a Potter.

Clearly oblivious to this steadfast rule, the boy pleasantly responded, "I wanted to get you something, sir. To thank you for teaching me last term, and because I never properly thanked you for helping me, either."

"For helping you?" Severus prompted.

"To get away from my relatives, sir," Harry qualified.

"Yes, well, I certainly do not expect any thanks for that." The man studied the child for a long moment. He certainly was much different than Severus had initially anticipated, though, he doubted he'd have noticed had the the boy not appeared on his doorstep on Halloween two years before. No; Severus would have never looked past the child's appearance had he not.

"I wanted to thank you, anyway," the boy stated simply. "I need to get back to our quarters. Aunt Ro wants to me to finish packing my things tonight so we can head home first thing after breakfast tomorrow. Happy Christmas, professor." Harry started towards the door.

"Potter," Severus interrupted him. He had set the present back down again and now opened a drawer to pull out an unopened package of his absolute least favorite candy. "Take this with you." He put it on the edge of his desk.

Harry's face lit up upon seeing it. "Those are my favorite!" he exclaimed, stepping back quickly to take the box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "This is what you gave me the first time I went Trick-or-Treating. Remember?"

"Was it?" queried the professor. Of course, he remembered. He had also already known that they were the child's favorite – Rolanda had mentioned as much to him early on in the year.

"It was," Harry confirmed, still grinning. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, Potter." By which, Severus meant for the boy to get lost already so he could return to his quiet. With a wave and a parting smile, Potter finally left and the Potions Master sent a half-hearted glare once the door was shut behind him.

Severus was not the least bit fond of the brat. His purchase of the candy, he would stoutly maintain, was purely an accident. And it certainly was not a smile that graced his features when he opened the gift to find a set of handsome raven quills.

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

The words hung in the air of his office for just a moment before Severus returned to his work with a quiet huff. So, maybe he did like the brat. But only a bit.