On Christmas Eve 1999 at noon, Diagon Alley was thronged with well covered up wizards and witches who went about their last purchases for the Festival. There was a disoriented and slightly aggressive aspect to the swarm of people on the street, as if a bee hive had been emptied of their inhabitants, in the middle of the winter, that shilly-shallied about nonsensically.
Had any kind of bugs indeed been released in the air on this particular day, however, they would have dropped dead in the cold within three seconds, thought Severus Snape grimly. He had only just turned up by Apparition at the busy Alley and watched with distaste the buzzing scene before him.
It was true that it must be the coldest Christmas for decades. Snape could not recall an end of December with this much snow and such a substantial dip below zero degrees Celsius on the thermometer. Dainty white flakes persistently danced in the air and added to the thick layer on the street. No one thought of spelling it away. The snow squeaked under Snape’s boots as he crunched the freshly fallen white powder. Every breath brought clouds of grey smoke out of people’s mouths and, in the stillness of the cold, you could almost hear the crack of vapour turning into tiny ice-flakes in the air. Christmas decorations were imbedded in layers of ice crystals, like white cloths that dulled the lights and slowed down the magically animated twinkling.
Snape only had two errands. Unfortunately, the shops were located at opposite ends of the street. He damned himself for even thinking of adventuring himself out on a day like this, loathing the busy crowd. But one of the items he was looking for was necessary for his Potion research during the coming weeks - Snape did not intend to take a holiday from his work - and the other item, that he had ordered a long time ago, was too fragile to be sent by owl mail, according to the salesman. Therefore he needed to collect it personally. He suspected the man who had imported the rare object just wanted to make sure that he paid the second part of the deal properly. The object had, after all, travelled by boat from Central America and could not be as easily breakable as that, he thought.
Snape sighed and frowned with irritation. The horde of people annoyed him. They were buoyant and busy. Too happy and overstrained at the same time. They all had plans, expectations and a purpose for their errands, with the prospect of family reunions and various get-togethers in their minds. Snape, too, had had someone in mind at the time he had ordered the amulet that he was on his way to pick up, but contrary to his fellow-wizards, he had no plans for Christmas at all.
The original idea had been to give the amulet to Harry as a Christmas present, but somehow, deliberately or unconsciously, once he had ordered the object, Snape had avoided to think about the coming Festival. True, he did not celebrate Christmas as a rule. The years spent at Hogwarts had forced him to participate in the compulsory parts of the school traditions, but last year, when he had quit his post as headmaster, Christmas had passed completely unperceived by him in his lonely cottage. Only a visit to Draco Malfoy at St Mungo’s on Boxing day had taught him that the Festival had taken place.
The undeniable fact that Christmas was now imminent had caught up with him in the morning, when he received an owl from the shop with a reminder to pick up the rare piece of American Indian craftwitchship. It had arrived two weeks ago. Why had he omitted to go and fetch it at the time? Snape wondered. Did he have doubts, all of a sudden, whether it was a suitable gift for Harry? No, it was, he was sure of it, the perfect present for the young wizard: a reminder of Harry’s own travels, a beautiful object and utile at the same time, especially for a young man like Harry who was becoming increasingly skilled in the domain of Ancient Magic and who had chosen to enter the magically intricate path of becoming a healer.
Harry was doing well. Harry and Snape were doing well. There was nothing for Snape to complain or to worry about. Since last spring, the two wizards met at a regular basis, every week. Harry had stayed with Snape for a couple of months at first, to recover, thanks to Snape’s potion, from the Magical Ague that had plagued him since the war. The symptoms had abated and the condition was under control, with only very subtle manifestations emerging from time to time. Harry had studied hard under Snape’s tutorage and passed his NEWT exams before the summer with excellent grades. Snape was particularly proud over the fact that Harry had obtained an Outstanding in Potions. It served Harry well as he had entered the program for higher studies of magical medicine after the summer. At that time he had moved out from Snape’s house to get himself a students’ room in London, but Harry returned once or twice every week to visit his friend and mentor.
Yet, for some reason, Snape was unsure about his relationship with Harry Potter. The role as a mentor was, Snape thought, not exactly accurate, because it was not only about teaching Harry things, or sharing his vaster experiences with the young wizard, or guiding him. There was an understanding that was mutual, Snape realised, and the relationship was more that of an equal to equal. Harry definitely contributed to the friendship and Snape definitely appreciated the young wizard’s company.
So much so, that he had been taken by surprise, on several occasions, by the strong reactions of disappointment when Harry had to inhibit or delay a visit to his cottage. There were a lot of social activities going on among the wizards and witches at St Mungo’s med school and Harry endeavoured to participate like any other student. After the confinement of disease and the voluntary exile the previous year, Harry needed to reintegrate into the magical society and make new friends. The young wizard also needed to spend time with his old friends from Hogwarts to make up for the year he had been away.
He should be happy that Harry did not develop an antisocial behaviour similar to his, Snape berated himself. At the same time, Snape could not help himself from being ridiculously disappointed each time Harry owled to cancel a visit. Most of the times, Harry used to come by the following day instead. Snape was deeply ashamed of his petty feelings of jealousy of Harry’s friends and the fierceness of his own reactions bewildered him. He could not, however, deny the depths of his engagement for the young wizard and he forced himself to try to understand and put words to his feelings.
It was a sense of kinship, he realised, at a deep level - and something of tenderness to it. There were certainly times when Snape strongly recognised traits of himself in the young man, especially when it came to magical practice and intuition but also a certain weariness of people that they had in common. Snape thought that Harry had a much pleasanter, more vivacious character though, reminding him of Lily.
Snape realised that there were similarities in Harry’s and his own upbringings that could account for such likenesses. Their joint experiences from the war also explained some of the uncommonly deep understanding they had for each other. Moreover, the young wizard’s exceptional fate and the tragic aspects to it, in combination with Harry’s disease, had caused Snape to become extremely protective of the young man. He had to remind himself constantly that Harry was now recovered, that he was nineteen years old as well as a powerful wizard. Snape tried hard to hold himself back from making admonitions and giving un-asked-for advice. He did not want to scare his young friend away with overprotective manners that easily could be mistaken for criticism.
Snape was so deep in thought, as he walked down Diagon Alley, that he did not take in his surroundings. He was moving against a stream of people and automatically turned and twisted to get around them, without really seeing them. Suddenly, a stout woman stumbled on the snow-threaded, uneven ground, took a step sideways and bumped into Snape’s side. She was nearly two heads shorter than the tall wizard and had to bend her neck to look up and meet his eyes to apologise.
Snape recognised the flourished, round face of Mrs Weasley, even if it was partly hidden behind a thick brown muffler. He quickly made use of his Occlumency skills and schooled his face into blankness as he mumbled something and turned his back to her. Mrs Weasley’s face had lit up when seeing him. She had opened her mouth to say something when he pretended not to recognise her and moved along. He could feel her staring at his back as he walked away and felt a twinge of bad conscience for not acknowledging her, but he suddenly could not bear the thought of stopping to chit-chat or being social at all. His thoughts automatically returned to the subject he had been pondering upon.
Snape’s scrutiny of his feelings for Harry had, to his horror, led to the conclusion that they could only be described as parental. It should not be surprising, really, considering how much he had loved Lily Evans, but it disturbed him as he thought that he had no right to assume that part vis-a-vis Harry. First of all, Harry was an adult and in no need of a parent, secondly Snape abhorred the thought of usurping the role of another, especially as that other person was James Potter. Even if he had decided at that very first meeting with Harry in the Forbidden forest to put his grudge against Harry’s father aside and treat Harry as an individual independent of his biological and magical origin, it made him uncomfortable to realise that he had that sort of feelings for the young man. He tried to convince himself that his relationship with Lily entitled him to a part in Harry’s life, and that he could in fact, without being ashamed of it, consider himself a kind of self-appointed godfather. However, he miserably had to admit to himself that not even the role as a godfather sufficed to legitimise his protectiveness of Harry, which scared him with its fierceness. There was something so much more personal about it than it had ever been with Draco Malfoy, for example.
Sorting out and putting words to his feelings for Harry had made Snape extremely self-conscious around the young wizard. He had however not with one word breached the subject with Harry and their last meetings had as a consequence been slightly awkward. Which was probably the reason for Snape’s present precarious situation, namely that he did not know where Harry was spending Christmas and therefore had no clue where to deliver his Christmas present, nor did he know whether Harry had any intention of visiting him at all during the Festival, because Snape had not been able to bring himself to phrase an invitation.
Suddenly Snape was arrested by a small, but strong, elegantly gloved hand that was put square on his chest. This witch would not be ignored, he realised and sighed inwardly as he politely inclined his head to greet Minerva McGonagall.