Harry awoke to a dull grey morning. The bed beside his was empty. Glancing across the room, he saw Snape sitting in the chair in the small cluster of furniture by the window, reading the day-old Daily Prophet and drinking his morning cup of tea. While Snape didn’t always wait for him to wake up anymore, after yesterday’s emotional send-off for David, Harry wasn’t surprised to find the professor still present.

“Morning,” he said around a yawn.

Snape looked up from the paper and gave him a nod.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Harry asked, pushing back the covers to get out of bed.

“As it is Christmas Eve, I thought I would wait for you,” Snape replied.

“Really? It’s Christmas Eve already?” Harry got up and walked over to where Snape sat to look out the window. The ground was barren and brown. “So much for a white Christmas.”

“Have faith,” Snape said.

“Is it supposed to snow?” asked Harry.

“Perhaps,” Snape said. He turned the page of the paper.

“Anything interesting in that rag lately?” Harry asked, scratching the back of his neck.

“Not particularly,” Snape said. “Although, I suppose we should be glad of it.” He folded the paper and set it aside. “Shall we have breakfast?”

“Give me a sec to use the loo. I’ll be right down.” Harry dashed off to the WC. It was Christmas eve! Ever since he’d escaped the Dursleys, Christmas had become something he’d actually looked forward to. A break from classes, gifts from friends… Well, even if he didn’t get any gifts this Christmas, he’d make the best of it. After all, he did have a gift for Snape. And if Snape let him use Dobby, perhaps Dobby could get Harry’s gifts to Ron and Hermione. That reminded him that he needed to go through his trunk and find a Christmas gift for Dobby as well.

Harry entered the kitchen to the sounds of Christmas music. “I didn’t know we had a radio.”

Snape glanced up at his entrance. “It appears that your favorite house-elf has been busy.”

“Dobby brought it for us?”

“As well as several other things, including these,” Snape said, pushing a box toward Harry.

Harry untied the ribbon and found a veritable treasure chest inside. He looked up at Snape and grinned. “Want to help me?” He pulled out several jars of colored sugar, a couple of jars of sprinkles, tiny edible stars that sparkled, and an assortment of metal biscuit cutters in a variety of holiday shapes.

Snape took the lid off that morning’s breakfast and began to serve himself. “I have some potions I need to brew this morning. Our stocks are getting low.”

Harry gave a mock pout and held up a metal reindeer, tilting it back and forth to make it look like it was prancing through the air.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Eat your breakfast, then you can make the biscuits. If I finish in time, I might be persuaded to help you decorate them.”

Harry smiled. “Deal!”

As Harry helped himself to eggs and bacon, he glanced at Snape. The man seemed to be in a good enough mood. “Sir, I was thinking…”

Snape cocked an eyebrow and paused, his fork halfway to his mouth.

“Well, er, I was wondering if you might let me use Dobby to deliver my gifts to Ron and Hermione. Secretly, of course. In the middle of the night.” Harry held his breath as he waited for Snape’s answer.

“I have considered it and came to the same conclusion. If Dobby is willing and agrees to be exceedingly careful, you may ask him.”

“Yes!” Harry crooned.

Snape shook his head and returned to his eggs and bacon.

When Severus exited the pantry-turned-potions lab later that day, it was to find Harry in the kitchen, covered in flour. The scent of warm, baked bread filled the air. The worktops were covered with trays of cooling sugar biscuits, as well as a number of carefully constructed mince pies. 

“You’ve been busy,” Severus observed.

“Yeah, I’ve been in the kitchen most of the day,” Harry said, pulling a leg of roasted lamb out of the oven. “Your timing is perfect, by the way. Dinner is almost ready.”  

“It looks like you’ve gone all out.”

“Well,” Harry said, “I like cooking. Especially for you since you appreciate it.” Harry ducked his head, but Snape didn’t miss the heat that blossomed in his cheeks.

“I do appreciate it,” Severus said. “You are a good cook.”

“Thanks,” Harry said as he retrieved the jacket potatoes from the oven and began laying the food out on the able while Severus laid out the place settings.

Severus leaned over the roast lamb, sniffing delicately. “What type of sauce did you use for the lamb?”

“A marsala wine and mushroom sauce,” Harry asked. “It’s my favorite. I asked Dobby for the ingredients.”

Severus nodded. “And the bread?”

“Rosemary and garlic.”

“I’m impressed,” Severus said.

Harry gave a tentative smile as he placed the jacket potatoes and steamed asparagus spears on the table.

If Severus had learned anything, it was that the boy was nearly as bowled over by compliments as Dobby the house-elves was. No doubt Harry had never been complimented for anything growing up with those disgraceful Muggles. Taking his seat, Severus began to fill his plate. Everything looked and smelled delicious.

“Sir, if you don’t me asking, did you do anything special on Christmas Eve growing up?”

As Severus picked up his fork, he considered Harry’s question. “My mother used to take me to church on Christmas eve. We’d walk from our house on the edge of town to the town square. The houses along the way would be lit up with Christmas trees and decorations in their windows.”

Severus remembered wrapping his arms around himself to fight off the cold, his jacket never quite warm enough, his breath misting the air. “By the time we’d arrived, it would be full dark and carolers would be gathered in the square, just starting to sing. We’d join them for a bit, before my mother ushered us into the church for the service.”

“I’ve never been to a church service,” Harry said.

“We only went a couple of times a year. Christmas and Easter. I didn’t mind it.” Severus took a bite of lamb and nearly sighed with pleasure. “This is excellent, Harry.”

“Thanks, I was hoping you’d like it.”

“I do,” Snape responded before continuing where he’d left off. “After church, we’d walk around the square and look at all the shops to see which ones had the best holiday displays. My mother would point out the things she liked and wax poetic on what she would do with such luxuries. She encouraged me to do the same with toys and such.” He didn’t bother mentioning that such extravagancies would never appear under the tree Christmas morning. They were much too poor for that, and what little money they did have, his father spent on alcohol.

“Mum would sing Christmas songs all the way home,” Snape reminisced. “She had the most beautiful voice.” Severus glanced up in time to see Harry avert his eyes. “Your mother had a beautiful voice, too.”

“She did?” Harry asked, looking at Snape as if his answer held the promise of Christmas in it.

Severus nodded. “She didn’t sing often. She was too embarrassed for that. But I’d catch her humming quite frequently, and once in a while, when she was in a particularly carefree mood, she’d sing.” And oh how beautiful she’d looked when she did.

“I wish I could have known her,” Harry said.

Snape didn’t respond. What could he say to that?

A few moments passed as they ate their food before Snape said, “Is there anything special you’d like to do this evening?”

“I was thinking that maybe we could decorate the Christmas biscuits and then, if it’s not too late, play a game maybe? Cards or chess or something.”

Severus helped himself to some more potatoes. “That would be acceptable. Are you skilled at chess?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I’m terrible actually. Ron always beats me.”

“Hmm,” Severus said, rubbing his chin. “Perhaps cards would suit better, then.”

“I don’t know many card games,” Harry said, “but I’m more than willing to learn.”

Severus rather enjoyed the discussion that ensued as they talked about the various card games they knew, the strategies involved, and which ones were more worthy than others. In the end, it was agreed that Harry would let Snape teach him the Russian card game Durak if Snape agreed to decorate the Christmas biscuits with him.

Inwardly, Severus was pleased. He wasn’t quite sure how Harry would handle Christmas without his friends, but Harry seemed to be bearing up reasonably well. And, with what Severus had planned, he hoped that Harry’s Christmas wouldn’t be the worst one yet, even though they were secluded from the outside world with only each other for company.

“What are we going to do with all these biscuits?” Harry asked, sucking the icing off his fingers.

Snape scowled and handed him a flannel.

Harry laughed. “Live a little,” Harry encouraged, ignoring the flannel. At Snape’s glower, he went to the sink to wash his hands before pulling over the next tray of sugar biscuits.

“Perhaps you could send some to your friends,” Snape suggested.

“Hmmm. Hermione’s parents are dentists, they don’t let her eat sugar. I’ll send some to the Weasleys though.” As Harry iced a snowman, he glanced over to Snape’s tray of biscuits.

Snape had transfigured the various Christmas shapes into steaming cauldron shapes. He’d iced all of the cauldrons black and the steam issuing from them white. At the moment, he was busy adding all manner of colored sugars, sprinkles, twinkling stars, and other toppings to the iced steam.

“You would decorate your biscuits like that,” Harry commented.

Snape merely smirked.

Harry transfigured a few of his own biscuits into Gryffindor lions, but then realized he wasn’t skilled enough to decorate them, so he switched them to broomsticks and Snitches instead.

By the time all of the sugar biscuits were decorated, they had a wide array of themes other than Christmas, including Quidditch, potions, a Hogwarts castle, some Slytherin snakes, a few unicorns, and Harry’s feeble attempt at a blast-ended skrewt, which he planned to send to Ron.

Biscuits done, they cleaned up the kitchen and moved to the sitting room. Harry brought along the Wizarding radio that Dobby had provided that morning and set it atop the mantel. As Snape didn’t complain, Harry assumed he was enjoying the holiday music as well.

Snape enlarged the coffee table to make it into a card table and changed the two loungers into hard-back chairs. Harry took a seat and waited for Snape to explain the rules.

“Have you played any card games that have a trump suit?” Snape asked as he quickly riffled through the deck, removing all of the 2’s, 3’s, 4’s, and 5’s.

“I don’t think so,” Harry responded.

Snape nodded. “The majority of games that have a trump suit require more than two players.” He shuffled the remaining cards. “A trump suit is simply a normal suit that has been elevated above the rank of other suits. In some games, the trump suit is fixed.”

Snape dealt out six cards to each of them. “In others, like Durak, it depends upon the card that is drawn.” He flipped over the top card on the deck: a Nine of Hearts. Sliding it beneath the draw pile so that the number and suit peeked out from beneath, he said, “Hearts will be our trump suit this round.”

Harry listened intently to the rules of the game. It seemed easy enough. They played a couple of open hands before Harry was ready to play for real.

“So the penalty for losing the hand, or being the Durak…” Harry began.

“Durak means ‘fool’ in Russian,” Snape said.

Harry glanced up from his cards. “You waited to tell me that until I lost three times in a row, didn’t you?”

Snape smirked. “Once a fool, always a fool.”

“Oh, do shut it,” Harry said around a laugh. “I will beat you yet. But, as I was saying, the only penalty for being a Durak is to deal the next hand?”

“For now,” Snape said. “Once you get a handle on the game, I am sure we can come up with more creative consequences.”

“You’re on,” Harry said, laying down a low trump to force Snape to take the cards in play.

Snape grinned and beat Harry four more times before Harry was able to win a hand. Snape nodded in concession and rose from the table. He returned with a plate of sugar biscuits and a bottle of Advocaat. He poured them each a generous serving before returning to his seat.

After Harry took a sip, a mustache of white froth lingered above his upper lip. “Wow, this is really good.”

“I like it as well,” Snape said.

“What’s in it?” Harry asked as Snape dealt the next hand.

“Eggs, honey, and brandy. It’s also referred to as Dutch eggnog.” Snape flipped over the Jack of Spades.

When Harry drained half the glass, Snape raised a brow. “I recommend you drink it slowly. It will go to your head much faster than you expect.”

“Yeah?” Feeling reckless, Harry took another swallow. “I understand the rules now. So what’s the next penalty for being the Durak?”

“So sure of your skills, are you?”

“No, but I think this,” Harry raised his glass, “will help.”

Snape snorted. “It may make you less inhibited, at the very least.”

“I reckon so,” Harry said, his grin sloppy. He picked up a smoking cauldron biscuit and popped it into his mouth. “I haven’t really drunk alcohol before. My head feels a bit… fuzzy. Buzzy. Muzzy. Something.”

Snape laughed. “Your turn,” he said, pointing to the playing cards.

By the end of the night, Harry had loudly sung all of the Christmas carols he knew (Snape had only had to sing two as Durak), kissed one of the fairies, and danced and twirled around the room. He ended up collapsed onto the sofa in a fit of giggles.

“I believe that’s more than enough Advocaat for you,” Snape said.

“Yeah,” Harry yawned. “I’m knackered.”

Snape stood and began to clean up the table. “Say goodnight to the fairies, then, and off to bed with you.”

Harry rolled off the couch and walked over to the crooked Christmas tree. Several of the young female fairies were running their hands through their hair and sighing while interested young males puffed out their chests and flexed their muscles. Meanwhile, the yellow and peach youngsters were flashing completely erratically. One feisty young fairy had crawled up the star atop the tree and was dancing on it. Harry giggled. “Night, night, merry fairies!”

Snape stepped up beside Harry and cast a spell to reinforce the sticking charm on the star before removing the fairy child and settling her somewhere safer.

Something in Harry’s periphery caught his attention, and as he turned his head, he gasped. “Look! It’s snowing!” Harry watched agog as big white flakes floated softly to the ground where they joined a patchwork quilt of white fluff.

Snape joined Harry at the window, where the many colored fairy lights glinted in reflection. “So it is.”

They watched the snow fall for a while before Snape took Harry by the shoulders and turned him toward the stairs. “Time for bed.”

Harry hummed in time to the radio as he made his way to the landing.

“Oh, and Harry?”

Harry spun to face Snape, but the motion made his head spin. He grabbed the banister to keep from falling over.

“Drink two glasses of water before bed. Alcohol causes dehydration and you’ll wake up with a headache Christmas morning if you don’t.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said with a salute. Then he made his way up the stairs singing a butchered version of “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” “Five moldy things, four falling turds, three wench hens, two curdled gloves, and a niffler with a gold key.”

Snape’s laughter rang out behind him.