A/N: With Google as my botanist, I am sure that many of the plants I listed are not incredibly accurate. So, if you read this and think ‘plant X does not blossom in that soil in that part of the world in December’—you are probably right. Sorry about that. Please grant me some artistic license with this chapter.

After crying himself to sleep in Snape’s arms, Harry had slept through the night, much to Snape’s relief. Snape had disentangled himself from the boy and risen, saving them both from embarrassment. He left Dobby with Harry so the teen wouldn’t wake alone and went to prepare breakfast. He made Harry’s porridge the way the boy liked it—with cinnamon and sugar. It was much too sweet for Snape, but he wasn’t going to begrudge the boy after the food issues Harry had had the day before. He would be happy if Harry would just eat.

The scent of fresh pine had infiltrated the house, prompting Snape to glance toward the sitting room as he made his way up the stairs, his lips quirking at the sight of the tree that was bent but not broken. He rather thought it was a good description for Harry, as well as himself. Continuing up towards the bedroom, Snape vowed to do what he could to engage Harry in something other than his memories. He’d have to talk to Dobby but, with the elf’s help, he was sure he could manage to give Harry a decent Christmas and perhaps some new, better memories to offset the ones that haunted him.

Harry awoke wrapped in blankets in a much larger bed than he was used to. It took him a moment to remember why he was in Snape’s bed. He bit back a groan as heat crept up his neck. Snape had been more than decent about it, but Harry still felt like an idiot for crying all over the man. At least he’d slept well, which was a nice change. Glancing around the room, he found Snape sitting near the window, gazing off in thought. He also saw a steaming bowl of porridge opposite where the man sat, in Harry’s usual spot. His stomach grumbled in anticipation, causing Snape to stir.

“Morning, sir,” Harry said.

Snape nodded, his expression inscrutable.

Harry made a quick trip to the WC, then sat down opposite Snape and began to eat the porridge. It had just the right level of sweetness and Harry was surprised Snape had remembered how he liked it.

“Thanks for breakfast,” Harry said. Swallowing against a sudden onset of nerves, he said, “And for last night.”

Snape merely nodded again. “When you are finished, I’d like to spend some time outside. There are some potion ingredients I need to gather, and I could use your assistance.”

Donning the warm clothes from the previous day, Harry and Snape headed to the shed. The temperature was just above freezing and a solid layer of clouds prevented the sun from making an appearance.

“What do we need to collect, sir?” Harry asked.

“A variety of things,” Snape replied, pulling the doors of the shed open and stepping inside. “And to do so, we will need some baskets.”

A moment later, a variety of different sized, shaped, and colored baskets lay scattered across the floor.

Snape picked up a tall, narrow hamper before directing Harry to one shaped more like a large picnic basket that opened on top from both sides. “Grab a small basket as well,” Snape directed as he took a similar one for himself.

Harry chose a round basket that was woven in dark brown reed.

“I presume you’d like to decorate the tree in the sitting room,” Snape said as he made his way back outside, waiting for Harry to exit before closing the doors behind them.

“Er, yeah,” Harry replied, not sure where this conversation was going.

“It seems that we have little in the way of traditional ornaments, so we will need to make our own from what we can find out here.”

“But it’s winter, sir,” Harry protested.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Your point?”

“Well, isn’t everything dead this time of year?”

Snape snorted. “Hardly. Keep your eye out for anything that looks interesting. If you can imagine a use for it, we can do something with it. For this, I will allow you to use magic.”

“Use magic how?” Harry asked.

“To transfigure, transform, charm, or reimagine whatever it is you find.”

Well, that didn’t sound so bad, Harry thought.

“May I suggest you gather twigs in a variety of colors, winter berries, pinecones of various sizes, seedpods, nuts, and anything else you find that looks interesting. If you aren’t sure what it is, ask before you touch it. For some of the more fragile items, you will need to cast hardening charms before adding them to your basket.”

“What about you, sir? What are you looking for?” Harry asked, his eyes scanning the ground as they walked. He came across an acorn and added it to his basket.

“There are a few potions ingredients I would like to find, including witch hazel, hellebore, and ilex.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “I’d help you if I knew what those looked like in the wild.”

Snape made a noise in his throat and Harry had the feeling that the wizard was holding back a disparaging remark about Harry’s knowledge, or lack thereof.

“I will alert you to their presence in the wild, as you say, should we come across any.”

They spent a mostly pleasant morning gathering all manner of things. Harry had to stop a couple of times to pick prickly burrs off his clothing, and once, he tripped over a log and twisted his ankle. Thankfully, Snape was able to spell it back to rights.

Mostly, though, Harry was surprised at what could be found in the middle of winter. Evergreen trees and shrubs remained green and offered up pinecones in many shapes, sizes, and colors, which he added to his basket in larger quantities than he probably needed. He gathered more acorns, some oak bark because it was white and peeled off the tree easily, and dogwood sticks that were red and somewhat flexible. He also found some seedpods that were shaped like stars, which he found quite interesting. However, when he tried to remove them from the plants, they disintegrated in his hands.

“Durum,” Snape said, his wand pointing at a star-shaped seedpod hanging from a dried stalk. Then he plucked the hardened pod off the stem and handed it to Harry.

“Thanks,” Harry said, quickly repeating the spell Snape had used to gather several more. When he’d plucked all of the star pods he could find, they moved on.

“Ah,” Snape said, stopping beside a bush and fingering a thick glossy pointed leaf. “Surely you know what this is.”

“Holly,” Harry said automatically as they stood before the thicket of bushes bursting with color on the otherwise overcast day. Crimson red berries clustered amid the easily identifiable green leaves.

“Yes,” Snape said. “Also known as English Holly or Christmas Holly or Common Holly. Its scientific name is Ilex aquifolium. It has become so widespread it is considered an invasive species,” Snape continued as he plucked a few leaves from the bush.

“What are the leaves used for?” Harry asked.

“In moderate quantities, the leaves—and more so, the berries—are poisonous. In very small amounts, they provide a substance that can act as a stimulant. A tincture of holly berry is used in Pepperup Potion. It is responsible for the potion’s bitter taste.”

Snape snapped off a few more leaves, and then began gathering the berries in his smaller basket. “In olden times, they mashed the holly leaves and mixed them with gruel to induce vomiting and diarrhea.”

Snape gestured to Harry’s smaller basket. “You are going to want to fill that up with berries, as well.”

“Planning on poisoning me?” Harry joked as he reached out to pull a handful of red globes from the bush.

“Hmm,” Snape mused. “It is a thought. But if I did, you would likely haunt me for the rest of my days. And I suspect you would be as obnoxious as Peeves.”

Harry snorted. “I would haunt you, too.”

“Just as well I do not poison you then,” Snape said, smirking at Harry.

Harry smirked back, just a little, as they continued to fill their baskets with holly berries. Snape, of all people, was teasing him. He felt something shift inside of him, as if his heart was opening the tiniest bit. Professor Snape, the man he’d loathed longer than not, had turned out to be one of the few people who actually cared enough about him to not only stand up for him, but to stand beside him, through thick and thin. He wasn’t always nice about it, in fact he could be downright cruel in his anger and exasperation at times. But the longer Harry knew him, the more he realized that the man’s demeanor was both a defense mechanism to keep people at arm’s length, and an artifact of his demanding standards—both for himself as well as others.

“If you’re finished,” Snape said, interrupting Harry’s musings, “I believe I have found some witch hazel.”

Harry, his smaller basket full of berries, followed Snape to a barren tree studded with the most bizarre looking blossoms—if you could call them that—that he’d ever seen. From a distance, it had looked as if someone had thrown handfuls of cooked linguini at a bare tree, the noodles hanging off in clumps. Up close, it looked more like yellow and orange carrot peelings dangling off brown papery bits that turned out to be seedpods. On closer inspection, he saw that a small, dark four-petal flower stood inside the carrot-like shavings.

“That is witch hazel?” Harry asked, leaning in closer. “Oi! It smells!” he exclaimed, backing away quickly.

Snape cocked an eyebrow, ignoring the comment on the plant’s scent. “Break off the branches at the base, like this,” Snape said, showing Harry how to do it. “Then stack them upright in my basket. I will need the bark, blossoms, and seedpods.”

Harry did so, working alongside Snape as he tried not to breathe in the pungent odor of the plant.

“Third-year potions,” Snape said as he continued to pluck blossom-laden branches from the tree. “What is distilled witch hazel used for?”

“It’s used for making primary and secondary potion bases, and some tertiary bases as well,” Harry replied, thrilled he could remember.

“Tell me which tertiary bases it is used for, and I will be impressed,” Snape replied.

But Harry could tell he was already impressed, which was a nice change from being criticized for all of the things he didn’t know. “Polyjuice Potion, for one,” Harry said. “And Wolfsbane, for another.” Harry held his breath. Those were the only two he could think of; if there were more, he didn’t know it.

“Very good,” Snape said. “Let us head back to the house and see if your applied skills can match your remembered knowledge.”

Harry groaned inwardly. Leave it to Snape to test him the first time he’d actually got something right.

“Cooking is not dissimilar to making potions,” Snape stated as he set a cutting board and knife before Harry at the kitchen table. “Explain to me how that is so.”

“Well, you have to follow a recipe,” Harry said.

“What else?” Snape asked.

“You need the right ingredients. And in the right quantities.”

“Keep going,” Snape advised.

Harry thought about cooking meals at the Dursleys’. Some recipes were more complicated than others. “You have to prepare the ingredients properly before adding them. Like, dicing onions or slicing carrots. And sometimes you have to cook them first, before adding them to the dish.”

“What happens if you don’t follow the directions exactly, or if you misprepare the ingredients?”

“The dish doesn’t turn out right,” Harry said.

“And what of a potion so mishandled?”

Harry grimaced. “I get where you are going with this. If the dish doesn’t turn out, you can just throw it away. Worst case scenario it tastes bad or burns or maybe even catches on fire. But with a potion, it can explode or injure someone.”

Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Which is why you are so strict in the Potions classroom.” Glancing at Snape, Harry said, “I never thought about how nerve-wracking it must be for you to watch thirty students all at once.”

“Thirty potentially exploding cauldrons all at once,” Snape said in agreement.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “What do you want me to do with these?” he asked of the bowl of apples Snape had slid in his direction along with the knife and cutting board.

“Inside each apple, if properly dissected, is a star. If you cut them like this,” Snape said, showing Harry the proper direction, “you will see what I mean.”

Indeed there was a five-pointed star in the middle of the apple slice. “I didn’t know that,” Harry said. “Does any other fruit have that?”

“These do,” Snape said, pulling out a sack of long yellow fruits that seemed to have fins.

“What are these?” Harry asked.

“Starfruit,” Snape responded. “They are from the tropics, but Dobby was able to find us a few upon my request. Slice them as you would the apples, about one-quarter inch thick.”

Harry did as instructed. The lobed fruit gave way to large, star-shaped yellow slices that looked quite nice. They gave off a sweet scent that was unlike anything he’d smelled before. He worked until he had sliced up eight apples and four starfruit.

Meanwhile, Snape quickly sliced some oranges and lemons. Then he laid out four metal baking sheets. “Spread the slices on here. We will dry the fruit in the oven.”

Carefully, Harry laid out his apple and starfruit slices across while Snape added his oranges and lemons, as well as a few cinnamon sticks. After sliding the pans in the oven and setting a timer, Snape brought over a bowl of smaller oranges.

“Do we need to slice these as well?” Harry asked.

“No,” Snape said. “We will do something else with these.”

Snape pulled two knives from a drawer and transfigured them into long, round sticks, each with a blunt-edged hook on the end. He handed one to Harry.

“What are these for?”

“They are shaping tools. You use them to carve patterns into the orange, like this,” Snape said, picking up a piece of fruit and placing the hooked end of the tool against its thick skin.

Harry watched as Snape drew the tool across the dimpled orange peel in a swirling pattern, leaving a pale yellow trail in the tool’s wake. It appeared as if he’d drawn snakes on the outside of the orange, merely by removing the outermost layer of skin. As if to cement the image, Snape drew a Slytherin “S” on what Harry presumed to be the front, and then set it on the table.

“Er, I don’t think I can draw the Gryffindor lion,” Harry said.

Snape smirked and picked up another orange. This time, he drew some runes on it.

“What does it say?” Harry asked, picking up his own small orange and debating what to draw on it.

“It is the rune for Choices,” Snape replied.

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, he drew the first thing he could think of, a Snitch. Realizing that his makeshift ornament could turn in any direction, he added a broomstick on the backside. The scent of fresh oranges wafted into the air, mixing with the heady citrus, apple, and cinnamon scents coming from the oven. A touch of melancholy settled over him at the thought that this was what a real home smelled like.

Pushing the thought aside, he carved a spell around the perimeter of his next orange, then held it up and rotated it to study his work.

“What does it say?” Snape asked.

Harry frowned. “Well, depending on how you looked at it, it could read moslu or oslum or slumo.”

“Or Lumos,” Snape said.

“Yeah, that was the plan,” Harry said.

Nodding, Snape waved his wand, muttered a few words, and Harry found himself holding an orange with light glowing brightly from the carved letters.

“Cool!” he said. “You’ll have to teach me that spell.”

Snape did just that, teaching Harry how to make all of his carved oranges spew light and glow. By the time they were done carving ornaments out of oranges, Harry had managed to make some of his cycle through various colors of light and one even had a design that flashed between Happy Christmas and Bah Humbug.