Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Author's Chapter Notes:
A bit dark at the beginning, but gets better as it goes. Trigger Warning for Abuse. I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to the fabulous JK.
Wishing on a Miracle
Harry looked out the window of Number Four Privet Drive and sighed. The snow had piled up, giving the perfect opportunity for making snow angels and snowmen. He could see other children run up and down their lawns, shrieking with laughter as they tossed snowballs, the white sludge dripping down the backs of shirts. They held out tongues as snowflakes slowly drifted downward, grinning when they managed to catch one. He saw two children wrap lights around their house, and another wrapping around their tree.

He couldn't participate, although he would give anything to. His aunt and uncle were expecting Marge and Ripper over later, and it was Harry's job to make sure everything was in order. He had to scrub the dishes, make dinner, and clean both the living room and dining room. He would be kept busy, that was for sure.

The bread was in the oven, making delicious smells waft throughout the house. Harry jumped, nearly burning his hand on the hot stove, when the front door slammed open and in came Uncle Vernon, his heavy footsteps reverberating through the threshold. He unwrapped his scarf, set down his shovel, and scratched at his new bushy beard. He had been growing it out for the winter, and seemed rather proud to have it, although to Harry it just heightened his resemblance to a walrus more.

"Boy, you don't have dinner ready yet?" he bellowed. Harry flinched back, preparing for a hit. "Don't you know Marge will be over in an hour?"

"T-There's only the bread left, then it will be done, sir," Harry stuttered out a reply, his voice no higher than a whisper.

""T-there's only the bread left"," he mimicked Harry's voice, making his voice high. He looked over at the bread, his eyes narrowed. Harry waited for the inevitable blow. Instead of executing the hit that would no doubt leave Harry hurting through the entire day, he did nothing. He simply harrumphed and walked back to the living room, seeming almost satisfied with the results.

Harry stared at him in confusion until the oven beeped, meaning that the bread was finally ready. He never would have expected his uncle to leave him alone when he was angry. It was an honest-to-God Christmas miracle!

The heat from the oven warmed his chilly frame, and he shivered in pleasure. With the bread done, the dinner was complete. Even Aunt Petunia shouldn't be able to find something wrong with it this time, like she somehow did every year even though he thought it was nearly perfect. He set the warm tray on the table, right next to the ham.

He timidly walked to the living room, where Dudley had plopped his fat behind in front of the television. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were sat on the couch, Petunia working on a rather horrible cross-stitching of what appeared to be a scarf, and Vernon was finishing his cross-word puzzle. Aunt Petunia's head shot up when he entered. "Done already, are you?" she asked, her words accompanied with a sneer.

Harry nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

She sniffed. "It better be good. If I see one thing out of place this year, you're going to get it. Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded furiously. "Yes, ma'am." He knew that she wouldn't do anything to him, even if it was burnt to a crisp. The most she could do was say harsh words. For as long as Harry had known her, she couldn't bring herself to hit him. Instead, she would sic Uncle Vernon or Dudley on him, and that threat was enough to make him do just about anything.

She got up, and just like every year, Harry's insides twisted into knots. He knew his food was good, he had done it just like she had instructed. There shouldn't be anything wrong, but yet every year there was. The chicken was too crispy, or the green beans didn't have enough salt, or the potatoes weren't mashed enough. Something seemed to be wrong every year, and every year, Harry paid for it.

His heart beat faster and faster with every step he took as he followed his aunt to the kitchen. She circled around the dinner, like a hunter with it's prey. Harry hung back, keeping one foot out of the kitchen, just in case he needed to bolt. She eyed the ham, then the bread, which was still soft. He hoped she didn't attack him for that.

In what seemed like another Christmas miracle, she didn't find anything wrong. She huffed, as if surprised herself. She turned to him, and Harry quickly took a step back. "Good job," she said curtly, almost looking pained while saying it, then pushed past him back into the living room. Harry just stood there in shock. Twice, in less than an hour, he had been almost praised by both of his guardians. That had never happened before in his life. He chalked it up to too much Christmas spirit, then went to work on cleaning the mess he made in the kitchen.

Later, Vernon's sister came. Marge stepped through, making the threshold shake like her brother. Uncle Vernon was overly sweet when taking her jacket, and Marge giggled, obviously already tipsy. Ripper padded in front of her, and growled when he spotted Harry. Marge looked from her brother and sneered. Harry instinctively took a step back.

"You're still here, are you?" was all she said. Harry shrugged, not wanting to say anything to anger her.

"Don't shrug at me, boy!" she half-yelled. Too late, he had already made her mad. She took a threatening step forward, and Ripper glared from his pudgy face. Harry flinched back. Uncle Vernon grabbed her by the arm, stopping her from doing anything else.

"Come on, Marge. Dinner is ready. You don't want to waste your appetite dealing with the boy, do you?" He persuaded as he led her down the hall. Marge, her mind muddy from the alcohol, followed Uncle Vernon with only minor struggle. The prospect of food outweighed the want to hate Harry. Harry let out a sigh of relief and followed, making sure to keep away from Marge.

Harry stood in the corner watching as the rest of his family ate. His stomach growled on multiple occasions, but either his family didn't hear or didn't care. Most likely both, he thought miserably.

Marge, presented with even more alcoholic beverages, was happier than Harry had ever seen her. She didn't even look at Harry for the rest of the evening, and when Ripper made a low noise in his throat, she was quick to shush him with brandy. When she was done with her plate, Harry scurried over to take it.

"Well trained, he is. Good for you, Vernon. Teach him his place, like the rat he is," she commented, wiping her bloated face with a napkin.

Harry bowed his head, biting his cheek so he wouldn't comment. It took every ounce of control not to shriek. Instead, he scrubbed at her plate furiously, nearly cracking the fine china with the pressure. Aunt Petunia looked slightly uncomfortable, and Uncle Vernon pushed out his chest proudly.

"Mummy, I wanna watch the telly. My show is on," Dudley whined, his mouth full of potatoes. Some dribbled out onto his shirt as he talked, and he dipped his finger in the mess and ate it back up. Harry tried not to gag.

"You can watch the telly after dinner, darling," Aunt Petunia replied. Dudley's face began to get red, a sure sign he was about to throw a tantrum, and Harry tried to make himself as small as possible, just in case Dudley decided to take his anger out on him. Petunia, beginning to see the storm that was rising, quickly got up. "I'm sure we have a portable telly around here somewhere that we can hook up, right, Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon huffed. "Should be in the big box in his second bedroom, dear."

Petunia scurried to grab the small television, and Vernon took back to his plate. "So how has work been, Marge?" his uncle said, trying to make small talk. He tapped his fork to his empty plate, and Harry rushed over to get it, knowing the sign.

Marge scrunched her face up, as if using her muddled brain was starting to get difficult. "Well," she slurred, making Harry uneasy. A drunk Marge was an easily ticked off Marge, even more so than usual. "that Jenkins boy is an absolute menace to the store. Did you know he put a red shirt in with a blue shirt?" she said incredulously, as if it was such a big deal. She swung her arm as she talked, and some brandy found itself on the floor. Harry went to dry it up, but Ripper beat him to it. As Harry was reaching out with the rag, Ripper snarled and bit his hand. Harry sucked in a breath and quickly snatched his arm back, examining the wound. Luckily, Ripper didn't pierce the skin, but there were very painful indents where his sharp teeth had bitten.

Uncle Vernon ignored Harry. He looked like he really couldn't care less about whatever happened with the Jenkins boy, but entertained his sister. "Really? What did you do?"

A rather loud belch found it's way out, and she giggled as she covered her mouth. "I fired him, of course. I can't have that sort of wishy-washy nonsense in my store!"

Aunt Petunia came back with the television, and Dudley enthralled himself with watching his favorite show. Dudley ate very little after that, only moving is fork at the prompting of his mother.

"Is everyone done?" she asked after she had finished, her voice taking on a rather obvious fake tone of interest. Harry could tell she wanted to hurry the dinner up.

With nods all around, his aunt clapped her hands. "Okay! I believe it is time for the pudding!"

Harry froze. He had forgotten the dessert. He had been so busy with his other chores and the rest of the food, that the thought of dessert slipped his mind. Oh, he was going to be in so much trouble!

"Boy! Bring us the pudding! And make it quick! My poor Dudley is going to starve!" his uncle said, patting his bulging belly. Harry shuddered. That voice meant business, and if nothing was delivered, there were certain consequences. With a family that was centered around food, not having any was a big deal, especially if it was during Christmas.

"Um..." He made eye contact with his aunt. Very subtly, he shook his head. Maybe she would understand. Maybe she would let him off with a warning. Maybe...

"You didn't make the dessert?" she shrieked, causing every head to swiftly turn in his direction. Uncle Vernon's face began to turn a very impressive shade of purple, Marge's following suit, and Dudley screwed his face up, another tantrum beginning to form.

Uncle Vernon pushed away from the table, causing silverware and cups to clatter to the ground. Whatever miracles Harry had, they had all been used up. He knew there was no way that Uncle Vernon would let this one go. Harry jumped and tried to run away, but his uncle's meaty fist clamped ahold of his arm, no doubt leaving a bruise.

He shook Harry until he began to see double. Harry knew he wouldn't hit him with Marge in the house, although he knew she would enjoy it immensely. He would wait until after she had left, and he could do whatever he wanted without interruptions.

"Boy," his uncle hissed, and the noise sent shivers of fear down his spine. "You better get your hide to your cupboard. If I hear a peep from you, your punishment will be worse, do you understand?"

Harry nodded furiously. Dudley was watching with a look of glee, Marge mirroring the look. Her's looked much more menacing. Uncle Vernon shoved him, making him hit the corner of the table. He stumbled and fell, making a fork fall and stab him in the hand, right over Ripper's bite. Ripper, angry that he was being interrupted while eating, lunged. Harry dodged out of the way just in time and ran to his cupboard, Ripper right behind him. He shut the door just as Ripper tried to bite again. His snout hit the hard wood and he squealed. Harry could hear his feet padding down the hall and the jingle of his collar as he ran back to Marge.

He sat huddled in the corner, regret filling him. If he had only remembered, none of this would be happening. Although he should have expected it, if he was completely honest with himself. Every Christmas, something happened, so he shouldn't have been surprised. Something would have happened eventually, even if Harry hadn't screwed up, and all of the miracles in the world wouldn't have stopped the inevitable.

Through the small window in his door, he could see the twinkling fairy lights that were scattered around the house. The multicolored lights found their way into his dark room, casting reds and greens and yellows on his small nine year old frame. They filled him with a sense of ease, although he knew it wouldn't be long until that ease evaporated completely. True to his words, his uncle came not long after. It seemed he couldn't just wait until Marge had left. Forgetting the Christmas pudding was just too great of an offense. No doubt Dudley and Marge had coerced him into it, although it wouldn't have taken much to persuade him.

He was hurting after his uncle was through. It had been by far one of the worst beatings he had ever received, if not the worst. He could tell a few ribs were cracked or broken, and his nose was completely smashed in.Throughout the entire thing, Marge and Dudley were watching like they were watching their favorite show on T.V. They laughed and smiled, and they only needed popcorn to make the scene complete. His Aunt Petunia had turned away, focusing instead on the horrible knitted scarf rather than the screams of her nephew. It seemed they were having a rather great Christmas.

Wheezing and clutching his side, Harry crawled back to his cupboard. He tried to lay on his lumpy cot mattress, but found it hurt too much. His uncle had slammed the door shut behind him, and Harry was slightly surprised when he didn't hear the tell-tale sound of the lock clicking. Apparently he thought Harry was too hurt to be able to do much more than lay there.

Harry shut his eyes, trying to make himself go to sleep, but the shooting pain that was running up his ribs made it very difficult. His breath came in shallow breaths, and he knew if he didn't get healed up soon, this would perhaps be the last Christmas he would ever see. The thought didn't hurt like he expected it would. For a long time, he supposed he had come to terms with the fact that he wouldn't live long, what with living with the Dursleys and all. He just never would have imagined he would die on Christmas Eve, and over pudding of all things. Definitely on the bottom of the list of ways to go.

After Marge had left, the Dursleys had decided to call it a day. It was well after Dudley's curfew, and Dudley had wanted to open his presents early. So they stomped up the stairs, making sure that dust would fall and cover Harry with every step. Harry waited a bit longer, until he could clearly hear the snores of Vernon, then painfully with his foot, he nudged the door open. He slowly wriggled his way around so he could peer out and see into the living room, where the tree shone bright, and the presents topped with bows and ribbons laid. Stockings, already overflowing with goodies, were hung above the fireplace.

Harry drank in the sight. If he were to die, then he wanted his last image to be peaceful. He stared at the tree, at the candy canes lining the branches. He imagined that all the presents were there for him, not Dudley. He imagined that the photos hanging had him in them, and that he was smiling along with his family. He imagined that when Christmas morning came, he would eagerly run to the living room, and drink hot coco by the fire, not a care in the world and no hurt to be seen. He imagined, but he knew it wouldn't come true, no matter how much he wished.

On the table, there was a plate of cookies and milk. A Christmas list was lodged underneath the glass, telling of the many more presents that Dudley wanted from Father Christmas. He stared, his vision blurring around the edges. He knew that it wouldn't be long now.

Father Christmas, he thought. Perhaps, if he asked politely, Father Christmas would answer his prayer and give him one gift. He needed it, with every fiber of his being. If you're real, then can I ask a favor? I've been good this year, I promise. Please, please. I just need a miracle. I need another. If you can't, that's okay, I understand, but I want to see tomorrow. At least give me that. Just one more miracle.

His green eyes found the angel, who was shining the brightest in the entire room. Her painted face stared back, and Harry felt a rush of warmth. He tried to smile, but it came out like a grimace as another stab of pain hit. The clock struck twelve, and his eyes drooped.

Please.

With the angel still etched in his mind, his vision went black.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Severus blinked awake, the clock chiming twelve. He sat up. Something was wrong.

His quarters looked exactly like before, dark and musty, not a Christmas decoration to be seen. Everything seemed to be in place. He had heard a voice, and he thought that was what had woken him, but it seemed it was only in his dream. It had sounded so real, though.

He drew the covers closer around his frame and rolled over. Perhaps if he just went back to sleep, he would forget it in the morning.

"Severus."

Severus shot up, his eyes darting quickly around the room. There was the voice again, clearer this time. It sounded so familiar. Almost like...

"Severus!"

"Lily?"

Lily was dead, to begin with, but that apparently didn't stop her ghost from haunting him. A sad face hovered before his, green eyes filling with tears, red hair flowing around her like waves. She was dressed in white, and she had an almost transparent look. For some reason, although he didn't know why, the old Scrooge story popped up in his mind.

"Severus, you have to help!" Lily screamed, her voice sounding pained. With a start, he realized that her lips had not moved. He was hearing the voice purely in his head.

"Lily, what...?" He reached out a hand, as if to brush his fingers through her hair, but they slipped through. He shivered at the cold.

"He's dying, Severus! You have to help him!" The tears that were filling quickly began to fall, and her ear-splitting wail filled his ears.

"Who? Who's dying, Lily?" He rose out of bed, walking over to the apparition. She hovered over the floor, her feet barely touching. Her white gown billowed in the non-existent wind.

"Harry. You have to help him!" Severus froze at the sound of the boy's name. A sneer threatened to grace his face, and he just barely managed to keep it off. Of course the Potter spawn would get himself into trouble. He hadn't even entered Hogwarts yet and he was already messing with Severus' life.

"Why should I help? Why did you come to me? It's not like he's mine." That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Her sad face quickly morphed into one filled with pure rage. Before he could even blink, her eyes were directly in front of his, bearing into what felt like his soul.

"Severus Tobias Snape, you listen to me right now. My son is dying. I have been watching him, unable to do anything. Do you know how hard that is on a mother? If you don't help him, he will be dead before morning. I came to you hoping you would understand, and I'm not leaving until you help. Unless you want me haunting you until the day you die, you better go." Severus personally thought that having Lily around forever sounded great, until he realized she wouldn't exactly be the nicest ghost to deal with. She would be a ghost of revenge, and that thought scared the wits out of him.

"He's wishing on a miracle, Severus. Make it happen."

"Lily, I..." He reached forward, as if to clasp her hands in his. They passed through, but he still squeezed as if he was holding them. Lily jerked her hands back, and Severus felt a sting in his heart.

"Go."

Lily's apparition disappeared, fading away from existence, but he could tell that she was still in his room. The temperature continued to drop, until he was shivering. Quickly, before he caught a cold, he put on a robe over his pajamas, and slipped on some boots.

The cold followed him throughout the halls, and he knew Lily was close, watching to make sure he did his job. As he Apparated, he hoped that Lily was just exaggerating, that little Prince Potter had just received a paper cut from opening his many presents early. He could barely deal with one child. He didn't know if he could deal with the child of his enemy, especially a wounded one. But he knew that she wouldn't be that dramatic, and she wouldn't have called on him otherwise unless it was serious.

The crack of Apparition as he landed on the front lawn of the Dursley residence was almost nonexistent. He shivered as fresh snow fell, and wrapped his robe tighter around his body. The house was a sore thumb compared to everyone else's. While the other neighbors had ridiculous ornaments and figures littering their front lawns, this one had none. Not a light was to be seen on the outside either, although Severus could clearly see the shape of a Christmas tree from the window. The glow of the angel on top reached its way to the outside snow, leaving what looked like a golden trail as they walked to the door. Severus wondered if the light was getting brighter as he walked forward, or if it was just his imagination.

The door was locked, but a quick wave of his wand solved the problem. The creak as he opened it could no doubt be heard throughout the house. He paused, waiting, making sure that no one would come. When he heard no sound other than the snores of the Dursley's, he continued. The tree was even brighter in the house. It lit up the entire living room, and even some of the hallway. He made his way past the tree, sneering at the huge pile of gifts. The angel's painted face seem to follow him as he walked by. He noticed the curled red hair of the angel, and if he didn't know that Lily was following him as a ghost, then he could have sworn that the angel was secretly her, watching over the house and her son.

His foot kicked something as he walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. His recoiled when he realized it was a hand, and his eyes followed the length of the appendage to the body it was attached to. Wild black hair was the first thing he saw, and he had to suppress the sudden feeling of rage that nearly engulfed him. His anger ebbed away when he saw the glassy green orbs, staring directly at the angel. His glasses were cracked, and some shards of glass were embedded in the cheek. He bent down, putting his hand over the boy's forehead. His forehead was burning. A quick scan revealed that the boy was severely hurt. A broken arm, a fractured leg, multiple broken ribs, a concussion, and that was just the beginning of it. He didn't even want to think of the other things that showed from the scan. The boy hadn't even entered his first year of Hogwarts, and he looked like a walking skeleton. The Dursleys were truly evil people.

"Oh, you poor child," he whispered. Many people at Hogwarts would swear up and down that Severus had no heart, that he enjoyed the torment of every child that walked through the doors. "The Evil Man" or "The Devil Bat" they would call him. True, it was the image he had made for himself, and on more than one occasion it had come to bite him in the butt, but in fact, while the students and teachers thought he was torturing his poor Slytherins, he would help them. No matter how cold-hearted he presented himself, he always had a soft spot for those who were hurt and in need. Call him a Hufflepuff, he didn't care. He would do everything in his power to make sure that the child would no longer get hurt, whether that was simply listening to their woes, or putting the abusers behind bars. His generosity didn't just go to the Slytherins, although he would be reluctant to reveal that. It seemed that once again, he would be helping someone that would no doubt one day be outside of his house.

He placed a feather light charm on Potter, although he had a suspicion he didn't even need it judging by the boy's weight. He would try and reset the bones and heal what he could, but his medical skills only went so far as to heal cuts. He wasn't trained for major injuries. He would have to give that job to Poppy.

As carefully as he could, he picked up the small boy, trying his hardest not to hurt him even more. He moved slowly, holding him close to his chest in the hope that some of his warmth would transfer over to Potter. Only when he stood up fully did he hit a brick wall. How was he going to get back to Hogwarts? He weighed his options. The Floo would be too dangerous, and he didn't trust the Night Bus, even if Potter wasn't hurt. Apparation didn't sound very appealing, for either him or Potter, but it was no doubt the safest and fastest option. He hoped the squeezing sensation was that: a sensation. It would do no good if they were actually being pressed flat.

Potter stirred in his arms, and an eye cracked open, making a slit of green peer at him. "Santa? You came? " the boy breathed, sounding surprised. "You look...different...than what I thought." As soon as the last word escaped, he began to cough, the horrible sound echoing through the living room.

Severus tried not to wince at the gurgling breaths. "I can be whoever you want me to be, Potter. As long as we get you someplace safe, I'll even be the Easter Bunny if you want."

A small giggle escaped from the boy, making the end of Severus' lip twitch upward. Perhaps if the boy was well enough to talk, then he could be okay.

"Lily, I hope you're still here," Severus whispered, looking at the angel. "Potter needs everything he can. A miracle is definitely something we're going to need right now." The angel seemed to glow brighter, and it was the last image he saw before he apparated.

The cold hit him like a train when he feet landed in the deep snow. Potter screamed, the feeling of being squeezed through a tube hurting his already beaten body. Severus made soothing noises, wrapping his cloak around Potter. He clutched Potter tighter and hunched over, trying to preserve whatever little warmth he had left. He trudged through the deep snow, and he nearly fell over on more than one occasion from the combined forces of harsh winds and snow to his knees. He wobbled dangerously, then straightened, surveying the path in front of him.

The gate seemed to be so far away, and Severus' heart fell to his knees when he realized that if he tried to go through the snow storm all the way to Hogwarts, it may be too late for Potter. He had been fine when he was in the warmth of the Dursley's, but now that he was in freezing weather, his critical level just rose higher, and every second that it took Severus to get an inch closer was another second that would take Potter closer to his death. The wails of the wind sounded eerily close to Lily's wails of misery.

When he reached the gate and realized just how much further he would have to trudge, he cursed the anti-apparation wards profusely. It seemed almost pointless now, that all of his efforts would be in vain, and Potter would be frozen and dead before they even reached the doors. His chest tightened.

His eyes travelled across the lawns, taking in the Christmas lights and snowmen that littered the grounds from the students. It was a shame that Potter may not even be able to enjoy those sights. His eyes found a huge mountain of lights, and it took him a moment to realize that it wasn't just a mountain, but Hagrid's hut decorated for the holidays. Suddenly, it was like a light bulb went off in his head, and he cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner.

"Expecto Patronum!" His silver doe shot out of his wand. It bounded around them twice, then stopped. Her ears perked up at the child in his arms, and Potter weakly reached out to touch her. Her snout found it's way into the palm of his hand, and a small smile graced his face.

"Pretty," Potter mumbled.

Ignoring the lump in his throat, Severus got the attention of his doe. Without having being told what to do, she lept across the fields, disappearing through the door of Hagrid's hut. He hoped the giant would be awake at this hour. If not, he had no idea what he would do. The castle was just too far away, and the air was too cold.

His warming charm brought warmth for all about four seconds until both of them were shivering again. Potter's damaged body curled into his, seeking out more heat.

Heavy footsteps crunched in the snow and Severus' head shot up at the shadow coming nearer. He could see his silver doe gracefully leading Hagrid, turning around only when she believed him to be too slow and urged him to move faster.

"Hello!" Hagrid bellowed, his voice echoing. "Severus! Is tha' you?"

"Hagrid, over here!" he yelled back, reluctantly letting one arm go and waving his hand. Hagrid's footsteps got quicker, the half-giant not phased by the horrible cold. The gate squeaked and groaned as it was forcefully pushed open.

Hagrid took one look at the bundle in Severus' arms and sucked in a shocked breath. "Severus, is tha...?"

Teeth chattering, Severus nodded. "I need your help. I need to get him someplace warm quickly."

A warm and heavy jacket was draped across his shoulder. Before Severus knew what was happening, he, along with Potter, was scooped up in the large man's arms.

"Hagrid!" he shrieked. Potter stirred, confused at the sudden movement.

"Hush, Severus. I'm not gonna let ya get any more frozen gettin' to my house," was the hairy men's reply.

Trying to push down his brief moment of embarrassment, he tried his best to keep as warm as he could. It didn't take much. Hagrid's jacket was like a portable oven. It was like the snowstorm didn't even exist. It was a sure relief from the freezing winds. Even Potter seemed more relaxed. His body wasn't as tight, and there were no more lines of pain racing across his forehead.

The bright light of the cabin hurt his eyes and he squeezed them tightly shut. Fang's frantic barking caused Potter to flinch in his arms. Hagrid set them both down on his lumpy bed, and Severus had to fight the sudden wave of exhaustion that washed over him.

"Hagrid, I need you to get Poppy right away," he said, but the man was already two steps ahead of him. Hagrid grabbed a large handful of Floo powder and in an instant, Poppy was stepping through the fireplace, multiple bags of medicine hanging from her arms. Her eyes held a fraction of confusion until she saw Severus and Potter, then they widened with shock.

She rushed over, her coat fluttering. "Severus, what on earth?"

Severus shook his head. "Just heal Potter. I'll explain in a moment." He didn't have time for this. If Potter didn't get healed soon, it would be too late.

Her head snapped down to the boy, and her expression changed from shock to rage. "Severus..."

"Just heal him!"

With a sweep of his arm, Hagrid cleared the table of everything littering it, sending everything tumbling to the floor. Poppy waved her wand, and Potter was transported from his arms to the cleared-off table. She turned to Hagrid. "You need to leave while I'm working. I don't need any distractions."

Hagrid shuffled his feet, then reached for his dog, taking Fang by the collar. "If you need me, I'll be, uh, in the kitchens," he said awkwardly, then walked out of the hut and back into the snowstorm.

Severus went to stand up, but Poppy held out a hand, prompting him to stop. "You stay, Severus. I want an explanation." She eyed him over, then her mouth set in a tight line. "And I need to work on you after Harry."

Severus plopped back down on the bed, sighing. He just wanted to go back to his rooms and sleep. He knew that Poppy had it from here. His end of the deal was done. But a nagging feeling in the back of his head told him that no doubt Lily would be furious if he left the boy right now. So he stayed.

He retold his story as she worked, telling of Lily, her apparition and what she had said. He told of the Dursley's, about Harry when he found him, and the snowstorm that had nearly taken the both of them. His words trailed off when he saw the pure rage that was burning in her eyes.

"Oh, I knew that Harry was going to suffer there! Minerva and I both told him, but did he listen? No! Bumbling old coot!" she mumbled angrily. Severus was glad it wasn't him on the end of her angry words. He knew how scary Poppy could be when provoked. He had been on the end of that stick too many times. Poppy's wrath was one that lasted for days, and Severus winced remembering it. But for the life of him, he couldn't bring it in himself to be sorry for Dumbledore.

The hours ticked by, and the combined warmth from the fire and jacket seeped into his skin, making him relax. He didn't even realize he had fallen asleep until he cracked his eyes open. Poppy was sitting next to the table, one hand stroking Potter's hair, the other holding his hand, her thumb rubbing circles onto his knuckles.

A heavy blanket had been draped over Potter's still form, and Severus was eerily reminded of the sheets that would cover a dead person's body. He calmed however, when he saw the steady, although faint, rise and fall of his chest and the new color that had appeared on his sallow face.

"How is he, Poppy?" he croaked, licking his dry lips. He noticed that a blanket had been spread over him as well and he tightened it around his body.

Her hand didn't still and Potter seemed to lean into her touch. "He's doing fine now. I managed to reset his bones and heal his fractures. His concussion will go away tomorrow at the latest. Or rather, later today. What he needs now is rest. Once the snowstorm eases up, I'll transport him to the infirmary. Even though he has healed, I don't want to risk him travelling through the Floo and possibly get hurt again."

Severus nodded. He had been thinking along those same lines. He looked out the window, where the storm was still blowing. "Some Christmas this is," he commented.

Poppy hummed an agreement. "It's a shame. Christmas is supposed to be a time of peace and love, but young Harry here has to deal with nothing but pain and scorn. I wonder how many Christmases he has spent like this."

"Too many, no doubt."

Poppy shook her head. "No child should have to spent Christmas in fear. He's lucky you came to save him, Severus."

He clutched the blanket tight in his hands. "I'm not fully responsible. Lily-"

"Yes, I know. But you put aside your hate for James and went to save his son. Take at least some merit."

Severus looked away at her words. He didn't know what he was thinking when he went to save Potter. It certainly wasn't for James. He only did it for Lily.

He shook the thought out of his head. "What is going to happen to Potter when he leaves the Infirmary?" he asked, changing the topic.

If Poppy noticed the his evasion of the subject, she didn't let on. "I was just wondering the same thing. I was about to leave for France to visit my sister before Hagrid called me. I can't take care of him when he wakes up. He's going to have to go with someone else." She gave Severus a pointed look.

"What? You don't expect me to-"

"What I expect, is for you to do the right thing, Severus. He doesn't have to stay with you, but he needs to be safe. He can not go back to his relatives. He needs someone who will take care of him and give him the Christmas he deserves."

His eyes lowered to the raggedy blanket. There was absolutely no way that Potter was staying with him. It wasn't that he didn't want the child, no. If anything, he had grown on him just slightly. Being stuck in a snowstorm was enough to make anyone get along. He couldn't take care fo Potter because he didn't know how. With the other children he had helped, he had gotten to know them, had observed them as they walked the halls of the school. He knew absolutely nothing about Potter. He didn't know how the boy acted, what he liked. It certainly didn't help that his father was his worst enemy. If he did somehow manage to take care of him, he didn't know what to get him for Christmas. A new pair of glasses? That seemed way too simple and not very exciting. He didn't know what to do.

"Are you sure you can't take him to France with you?" Severus asked, raising his eyes just enough to peer at her through his lashes.

"Severus."

He sighed. "I thought not." Now he was in a bind. He supposed he could always just dump the boy on Minerva, but that thought left him feeling a bit guilty.

"What do you think Lily would want you to do, Severus?"

The question had his head snapping up. "What are you trying to imply?"

She gave him a knowing look. "I think you know."

Severus said nothing. He twisted the fabric in his hand. She was right. Even if he did manage to give Potter to someone else, he wouldn't feel happy about it. Lily certainly wouldn't. She had trusted him to take care of her son, and for him to just dump him on some random professor would no doubt result in her wrath.

A whimper from Potter drew his attention from the blanket. The boy's eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth turned downward. He curled into a ball, bringing his legs close to his chest.

"I think he's dreaming," Poppy said.

"It's certainly not a happy dream." Severus got up from Hagrid's bed. "Put him here. A table is no place for him to sleep."

Instead of using her wand like Severus expected, Poppy scooped the small child up, his weight not bothering her one bit. She laid him down on the lumpy mattress and Potter seemed to disappear right into it. She tucked the blankets around him, and when she was done, Severus could barely see the boy. He sunk right into the bed. The only thing visible was his wild hair poking out of the blankets.

Before he realized what he was doing, he reached down and smoothed the dark hair down. It sprung right back up, and Severus spent a few seconds trying to make it stay down. Potter turned in his sleep, his head nuzzling into Severus' palm. His brain finally clicked to what he was doing, and he retreated his hand. Potter seemed almost disappointed. He let out a small whine and his hand reached out, grasping at air, searching for Severus. His hand found Severus' fingers, and he sucked in a breath when Potter relaxed and a small smile appeared. Strange emotions swirled inside him. He turned to Poppy and sneered at her amused look. She gave a kind smile at the scene.

Slowly, he twisted his fingers from Potter's grasp, and breathed a sigh of relief when Potter made no move to seek him out again. He walked away from the bed, ignoring the little voice in his head to stay.

"I'm going to my quarters," he announced, finally having enough of the small hut.

Poppy's head swiveled in his direction. "You need to let me check on you. You spent way too much time in the cold. You could very well-"

"I'll take a Pepper-Up," he said as he edged closer to the fireplace.

"Severus, don't you take another step-!"

"I'll tell Hagrid that it's okay for him to come back from the kitchens now. I'll come by the Infirmary later this evening. Goodbye!" The fire flared green as the handful of powder fell, and Poppy's enraged face spun until he was spewed out in his living room. No doubt she would chew his hide later, but right then he couldn't care less.

As soon as his feet touched his carpet, he wanted to flop down in his favorite chair and not come out of his room until New Years. It had been too hectic of a night, filled with way too much stress and anxiety for his liking.

"Lily, I hope you're happy," he said to the air. "Potter's safe, and he'll be better when he wakes up."

A stream of red hair blinked into and out of existence, and Severus could hear a faint "Thank you" echo through his rooms. He nodded briefly, not knowing which direction to direct his answer to.

He was sure that Lily would say no more to him, and for some reason the thought didn't seem to sadden him as he thought it would. He knew he had pleased her with his actions, and he had gotten to see her once again, even it was for a short while. That had been enough for him. Now he had Potter to take care of, and the boy would no doubt be just like his mother, looks aside.

The thought of Potter suddenly made his mind jump into overdrive. He needed to get him a present. He needed to decorate for his arrival. He had to make everything perfect for his first Christmas away from his relatives. Poppy would no doubt nag him until he did it. He just couldn't bear the thought of another lecture from Poppy.

The only problem was he didn't have a present for Potter. He scurried around his rooms looking. Everything he had was either Potions related or Dark Arts: certainly nothing he could give a nine-year-old. He scratched his head, thinking. His mind instantly went back to the idea of new glasses, but he shook it off. It would be too boring. Although he was sure that the boy would appreciate having proper sight and being able to see again, glasses weren't a typical Christmas gift that one would receive. He also had a slight feeling that Poppy was thinking along the same lines, and it would certainly be awkward if they both got him the same present.

He dug through old boxes, looking through old Death Eater robes and masks, old picture books and mementos from his childhood. He came across a box labeled "Memories". Curious, he took it out. He couldn't remember exactly what he had put in there, and it certainly peaked the inner child inside of him. What he found inside made him nearly tear up. Two things caught his eye immediately, and he picked them up.

Oh, yes. Those would certainly do as a Christmas gift for Potter.

Now that all was left was decorating. Compared to Hagrid's bright place, Severus's looked like it had been sucked into a black hole. Not a single decoration could be seen. Everything seemed too bleak and dreary. He suddenly felt an urge to go all out with decorations, although he knew it would be nearly impossible. He didn't have a tree, and his Transfiguration skills weren't near good enough to turn something into bright lights. He could possible turn strips of fabric into tinsel or streamers, but that was the extent of his powers. He would have to get Minerva to help. Once again, a light bulb flashed above his head.

‘Potter better enjoy this,' he thought. Praying silently that Minerva would be willing to help and not laugh in his face, he made a firecall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry woke up to a bright white light. For a moment he thought he was dead and he suddenly felt a wave of sadness. His wish didn't come true. There would be no more Christmases or Easters or birthdays. Even though most of them weren't really enjoyable, they were certainly better from the other days.

He realized he wasn't dead when he heard a faint noise to the right of him. He cracked his eyes open and was met with the blurry image of a man sitting in a chair, looking rather uncomfortable as he slept with his head leaning to the side. Two brightly wrapped gifts laid on his lap, and Harry had to wonder if they were for his child. A loud snore jerked the man awake, but only for a moment. He blinked, readjusted his head position and went right back to sleep. Harry had to hold back a laugh.

"I see you're finally awake, sleepyhead," came a voice to his left. Harry's head spun around. An elderly woman came close to him, holding a tray of what looked like food. It was then that he realized that he was in what looked like a hospital and certainly not at the Dursley's.

He quickly sat up. "Where am I?" he asked, groping around on the bedside table for his glasses.

The woman set down the tray. "Calm yourself, child. You're safe now. You're at an Infirmary at a school that I work at. My colleague found you hurt and brought you here so you could heal." She jerked her chin at the man sleeping in the chair, and Harry suddenly remembered being picked up, a very uncomfortable squeezing feeling, something about a silver deer, and being cold. So very, very cold. Everything after that was blank. The woman's voice sounded familiar as well, but he couldn't place why.

"Why?" he asked. Nobody cared about him. When he made the wish, he honestly expected to lay there forever, until his body gave up. He didn't expect it to come true. Perhaps he had one more miracle stored away after all.

"Because you needed help. He could never turn away from a child in need. He knew you were hurting and came to make sure you saw another Christmas," she replied. Harry could tell she wasn't saying the whole truth, that she was withholding something, but he didn't push it. Honestly, he was just happy he was alive and far away from the Dursleys. Whatever happened beyond this point didn't bother him. As long as he was awake to see at least one more Christmas he was happy.

"That reminds me," she said, and rummaged around in her front pocket. She pulled out a small rectangular package wrapped in green paper covered in what looked like golden balls with wings. She placed it in his hands, and he looked at her in confusion.

"Go on. It's for you. Merry Christmas, Harry." Harry didn't even stop to wonder how or why she knew his name. He carefully undid the paper, delicately setting it aside and turned the brown box over in his hands. With ease, he tore off the tape binding the box lids together and gave out a small gasp at the gift inside.

He pulled out a small black box. On the top it had his initials in elegant white writing. He knew exactly what it was and his eyes widened.
"Glasses?" he said with awe. He took the new frames out of the box, marvelling at the new sleek design and the absence of scotch tape between the brim.

"Go on, then. Put them on. I want to see if they work."

He didn't have to be told twice. He placed the glasses on and it was like he had been transported into a whole new world. His old glasses couldn't even compare. He could see. It wasn't fuzzy around the edges anymore, or split in two from where his glasses were cracked. He could see each and every individual leaf from the tree outside. He could see the clouds how they were supposed to be seen, not just some lumpy white things in the sky. He turned to the woman.

"Thank you!" he said happily. His smile was stretched so wide that it hurt.

The woman opened her mouth as if to say something, but another voice chimed in. "Well, I hope my gifts will suffice for you as well."

Harry turned to see the man stretch, giving Harry a small wink.

"Severus!" the woman said. "Have you been awake this whole time?"

"Long enough to know that you've started the party without me. That's just not right. You knew I wanted to give my presents first." The lady huffed and rolled her eyes. The man's--Severus'-- black eyes met his green.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. I hope you are feeling much better?" Severus asked, his voice still gravelly from sleep.

Now that the man mentioned it, Harry realized that he didn't hurt one bit. Even his leg, which he was sure would never work right again, seemed to be in perfect shape. He bent his arm back and forth, patted his ribs, and even felt on his head for a bump or mark. Nothing.

"Yeah. I-I feel great. How...?" He turned to the woman, who put a finger to her lips.

"Call it magic, my dear," she replied. Harry had no idea what that meant, but judging by the shared look of slight amusement between the two adults, they knew exactly what was going on. Harry was confused, since he knew that most of his body should be in a cast, and he turned to the man for answers.

A black eyebrow raised at his questioning stare, and the man had to think of his words before answering. "I'll explain everything to you later. I know it's confusing, but don't worry. Everything will make sense soon enough."

The man lifted his two presents, and Harry's eyes were drawn directly to them, completely forgetting the previous exchange. He was getting more presents? The glasses were enough!

Severus set down the first one, a small rectangle wrapped in red and gold paper. Harry reached out hesitantly, looking at the man for confirmation. At the man's nod, he ripped into the paper like Dudley on his birthday.

"It's a...book?" Harry said, confused. He turned it around in his hands, looking at it from every angle.

"It's a photo album. In it contains pictures of your mother. There may be some of your father, but I don't recall how much." Harry's eyes widened at Severus' words. His parents were in there?

He flipped to the front page eagerly. The first picture was of a small red headed girl. She was sitting in a swing, turned towards the camera and waving, a large smile brightening up her face. Her eyes crinkled, and Harry noticed that her eyes were just like his.

"Is this my mum?" he asked, touching the picture. Severus nodded.

"I was friends with your mother when we were children. We were very close, and it was because of her that I managed to find you and bring you to safety."

Harry's brain didn't register exactly what Severus was saying. He was too busy flipping through the pages, taking in with awe at the people that he had constantly wondered about. He found a wedding picture, with the same girl, all grown up, and a man that looked just like Harry.

He pointed to the man. "Is this my dad?"

Severus' face seemed to darken for a moment, but it went away as soon as it came. "Yes, that's him. They met during school and were close during their ending years. They got married right after graduation, and not long after this picture was taken did Lily realize that she was pregnant with you."

"Wow," Harry breathed. He had never known the story of his parents. All the Dursley's would tell him was that they were nothing but drunks and that they had died in a car accident. It certainly didn't look like they were drunks. If anything, they seemed to be the complete opposite of what his aunt and uncle had told him.

Severus plopped down the other present in front of him. Harry looked up from the book, glanced at the present, then looked back at the man. Another one? Wasn't two enough?

"It's okay," Severus said, pushing the box closer. "It may not compare to the photo album, but I hope you like it."

Taking that as a sign to open, Harry unwrapped the gift. Inside the box was a rather ratty, obviously well-used stuffed bunny. It's floppy ears were still silky and velvety, and even though the patches of fur were worn, it was still as soft as if it were brand new.

Severus had an almost eager look on his face as Harry took out the rabbit. "Your mother gave that to me for my birthday the same year we met. At that time, I had a very...difficult time sleeping at night, so she bought him for me to help me. I've had him ever since, and let me tell you, if you're having a bad night or a horrible dream, he can make it all better. Don't tell anyone, but he sometimes still helps me sleep." Severus gave a small, fond smile. "I figured you would enjoy it."

Harry rubbed the soft fabric of the ears between his thumb and forefinger. He never had a stuffed animal before. Sure he had some of his green army men and some broken hand-me-down toys from Dudley, but they were all hard plastic and not very comfortable to snuggle with at night when he had a bad dream. He brought the toy close to his chest and breathed in the scent. It smelled like sandalwood and something Harry couldn't really place. It smelled comforting, and Harry hugged the rabbit tight.

"What's his name?" he asked.

"I named him Bugs, but you can choose a new name for him if you wish," Severus replied.

Bugs. He liked that name. It seemed to suit the animal. "Bugs," he said aloud, trying out the name. "Like Bugs Bunny?"

"Mmhmm. I was obsessed with the Looney Tunes show when I was younger. I went over to your mother's house to watch it nearly every day when it came on."

"Thank you so much, sir. But, don't you want to keep him? I mean, doesn't he still help you sleep?" he asked, holding out Bugs.

Severus pushed the rabbit back. "I don't need him anymore. I'm at that stage where I don't get many nightmares. I think you need him more than me."

Harry stared at his new presents with a sense of awe. This had to be the best Christmas ever. He was fully healed, he had gifts that were never going to get taken away from him, he was far, far away from the Dursley's-

Wait.

"Do Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon know I'm here? Won't they be mad?" he asked. If the Dursley's knew he was here, that he was getting presents and not cooking them breakfast, he was in a lot of trouble.

"You're never going back to those monsters," the woman said angrily. Harry shrunk back from the look of pure rage that was burning in her eyes.

"Poppy," Severus warned.

"He's not! I forbid it!" Poppy said, turning her angry stare onto Severus.

"We know he's not, Poppy. Harry's staying here until we can find a safe place for him to stay."

Harry's eyes widened even more. He wasn't going back to the Dursley's? He could stay here? Safe?

"You mean it?" he asked, bewildered.

Severus looked down at him, and Harry saw nothing but pure honesty swimming in his eyes. "I mean it one hundred percent. You'll stay with me if you have to. I will not allow you to be hurt like you were again."

Harry felt something warm spread through his chest, and he could feel his eyes begin to mist over. This was definitely the best Christmas ever.

"That reminds me," Severus said. "There is one more thing that I need to show you."

Confused, Harry took the hand that was offered to him. His feet touched the ground, and he fully expected his leg to buckle out from under him, but it stood firm. Amazed, he jumped up and down a few times, marvelling at how his leg didn't hurt one bit. It really was like magic.

He took the robe that Poppy offered him and glass of juice and an apple that was practically shoved in his hands. He waved at her and followed the tall man. What on earth could he show him? He already gave him plenty. There was perhaps nothing else that could make this Christmas any better.

As they walked, Severus told Harry about his heritage and about the school they were walking in. Harry had a very hard time believing him at first, but the reminder that he somehow managed to heal completely in just a day made him reconsider. It certainly explained all the strange things that had been happening around him.

Harry listened closely as Severus talked about his mother, who had been his very best friend.
He was amazed when he said that it was his mother that came to him in the form of a ghost and pleaded with him to save Harry. He had a guardian angel after all.

Severus told of Hogwarts, the many classes and spells, and Harry could suddenly feel all of the pieces click together. He knew that Severus was telling the complete and honest truth. Harry finally had a place where he could be him. He never had that before. He hugged Bugs tight to his chest, a wide smile overcoming him.

They stopped in front of a large door. Severus took out a stick, which Harry assumed was his wand, and waved it in a weird pattern. He heard a click and the door swung open. Severus waved to the open door.

"After you," Severus said, and Harry hesitantly took a step over the threshold. As soon as he feet where in, the dark room suddenly exploded in light. Harry gaped in awe at the Christmas lights that were strung everywhere. They glittered multiple colors, blinking in and out. He followed the trail of lights through the hallway and kitchen, Severus following closely behind, and stopped in what looked to be the living room.

An absolutely ginormous tree took up one corner, piled high with even more lights and baubles. Candy canes of every flavor imaginable hung from the branches, and Harry noted with glee that an angel, almost identical to the one at the Dursley's was placed at the very top of the tree. Harry smiled at the redheaded angel, and he liked to think that it was his mother watching him. Her golden glow filled him with a sense of ease and happiness.

"Merry Christmas, Harry," Severus said. Harry drank in the sight with a large smile; the colors, that atmosphere, and the piles of presents underneath the tree that had his name scrawled on them. It was perfect.

Miracles did come true after all.

The End.
Chapter End Notes:
A kind of dark Christmas story, but at least there’s a happy ending! I hesitated at first about writing this. I was thinking about completely starting over, but then I realized that I would have about zero time. I barely got this one on time as it was. ¯_(ツ)_/¯ I hope you like it, and I hope all of you have a wonderful Christmas!

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