Chapter 34

Shopping with Minerva

xxx

Another day was drawing to a close, and it was becoming more and more apparent that the Christmas holidays weren't going to stop and wait for anyone, not even the famous Harry Potter.

Harry couldn't help but feel a certain amount of dread and anticipation at the coming weeks. He had grown used to spending time with his father, yes… but actually living with the man? That was another story. Residing under his roof and abiding by his rules? Unimaginable. Eating every meal together and tolerating one another's presence and personalities, idiosyncrasies included? It was a bit much… almost like getting married, only without the fringe benefits.

Harry tried to reason with himself that this was what every other kid did, only other children had to do it for an entire lifetime. The little voice in the back of his head countered that the other kids didn't have Professor Severus Snape as a father.

He could rationalize that any amount of time he'd spent with the Dursleys had surely left him worse off than he would be now. After all, Severus had been tolerating his presence quite admirably in the past few weeks, and Harry had to admit- he was growing fonder and fonder of the man, dry wit and healthy sense of sarcasm included.

Yes, it was true. Even the little digs that Severus made at Harry were enjoyable now, especially once Harry figured out that he was allowed to retort with equally clever and scathing remarks. Occasionally, he pushed a boundary and received a warning, but on an average, Harry was finding him to be a fairly reasonable man, if you only got him to put his biases and grudges aside. He didn't seem nearly as insane as he had at one point in Harry's schooling career.

The oddest things had been triggering these thoughts in Harry lately. For example, this bout of anxious meditation had been triggered by the oddly triangular shape Harry's mashed potatoes had taken when he'd spooned them onto his plate. For some unfathomable reason, it had ironically occurred to him that they took the same shape as Severus' angular nose. Yes, it was odd, but Harry couldn't stop these sorts of thoughts from occurring. They just… did.

And so, here Harry was, sitting at dinner with Hermione and Ron and absentmindedly leaning his elbow into his side dish of mushy peas.

"Er- mate, you've got a little something on your sleeve, there," said Ron, wrinkling his nose at the site of the dark green pea residue lingering on the dark elbow of Harry's sleeve.

"Oh, thanks, Ron," Harry said, grabbing a napkin and hastily wiping the mess off his robes, causing Hermione to sigh in frustration and reach across the table to stop Harry from working the stain deeper into the fabric. She pulled out her wand to mutter a helpful cleaning spell.

"What would we ever do without you, Hermione?" Harry beamed at her, as she smiled at his flattery and tucked her wand away.

"So, you'll be spending the Holidays with Snape then, eh Harry?" Ron asked, tilting his eyebrows forward to indicate his sympathy.

Harry nodded and swallowed his food. "Yeah," he replied noncommittally, tipping his head to the side. "I don't know what I'm going to talk to him about for two weeks, but I'm sure something will come up."

"Well, we can always visit you if things get awkward," Hermione offered sympathetically, glaring when Ron choked in shock, looking at her with his eyes wide. "What?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows. "We will!"

"I doubt Snape is going to let us come into his house, Hermione," Ron said, leaning forward so that they wouldn't be overheard. "And even if he did… do we really want to go there?"

Harry was a little put off that his best friend was saying this right in front of him, but reasoned that since he was doing so, he obviously couldn't realize how much it bothered Harry to hear his father talked about so negatively. Perhaps he could talk to Hermione and she would yell at Ron for him. She was incredibly handy, that way.

"That's Professor Snape to you, Ronald," Hermione was saying, waving her fork for emphasis, "and you're deluded if you think that he's really going to lock Harry up for two weeks with no contact with the outside world. The Professor has already promised to let him go to the Burrow for Boxing Day, isn't that right, Harry?"

"Er- yeah," Harry said, caught off guard and looking back and forth between the two. "If I'm invited, that is."

"Oh, don't be thick Harry, of course you're invited," Ron said, giving him what was supposed to be a comforting slap on the back. Harry thought it was rather rough to be reassuring, but didn't say as much. "Mum would have you stay the whole holiday if you could, but I told her you wouldn't be able to."

"Well, I'm sure Severus would let me, if I asked," Harry said defensively, not sure he liked how Ron was implying that his father was a jail-keeper of some sort. "But I think it'll be…" he stopped, there, unwilling to continue. If Ron thought so poorly of his father, he didn't want to sit there and talk about how great he thought it might be to spend some time with him.

"We understand, Harry," Hermione said softly, grasping his hand from across the table. She glanced at Ron, whose expression was clearly meant to contradict what she had just said. She amended, "Well, I understand. I'm glad you finally have someone, Harry."

"Even if it is someone like Snape," Ron agreed, nodding. He winced a moment later, as Hermione swiftly kicked him from underneath the table.

"Especially someone like Professor Snape," Hermione corrected him, fixing him with a stern glare that reminded Harry sorely of one of the professors' own patented looks. "No offense, Harry, but I think it serves you well to have someone who will keep you in line."

Harry laughed softly and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I suppose you're right in that aspect," he concurred, glancing up towards the head table with a fond look on his face. He wasn't about to say it out loud, but he almost liked having an authority figure like Snape around- his decisions weren't solely his own, because he knew that if he made one Severus wouldn't agree with, he was in for it. He'd managed to go a long time without angering the man, and he wasn't eager to change that.

Of course, the incident in Duftown had brought Severus close to anger, but Harry felt that the stern lecture he'd received afterwards had barely rippled the surface of the deep and treacherous pool that was the temper of Severus Snape. No, Severus had been more relieved and disappointed than anything that day. Some children might say that with an adult, disappointment could feel worse than anger… Harry had to disagree… approval Harry could earn back; Severus' wrath left memories that Harry would never forget.

Of course, disappointment did make Harry feel guiltier than… why was he even contemplating this? Was his sleeve in the mushy peas again? Damn, it was.

"Er- Hermione, could you…?"

Hermione half huffed, half laughed, and pulled out her wand to oblige.

"Miss Granger, isn't there a rule about using magic outside of class?" inquired a cool voice from behind Harry. He didn't have to examine Hermione's shocked expression and faltering speech to realize who was standing behind him.

He craned his neck to look at his father's face, and saw that he was smirking down at the bushy haired girl in front of Harry. Harry shook his head; the man really took too much pleasure in making students quail before him.

"I- I was just," Hermione's high-pitched voice stuttered defensively, motioning to Harry's sleeve, which was now clean again and of no use to her case.

"Perhaps," Severus said, tapping his finger to his chin, "I should take House points."

"Or perhaps not," Harry negated, raising an eyebrow at his father's antics. Part of him was relieved to see that he was in pleasant enough a mood to want to play with his students' minds; the other part was sorely unappreciative of that fact.

"Oh, well, if you don't believe points ought to be taken, clearly I am mistaken," Severus said mockingly, taking a step back so Harry could rise from his seat.

"I'm glad you see things my way," Harry responded, smiling in satisfaction and straightening his robes.

Severus merely grunted in response and gave the boy an appraising look. "You should hang up your robes instead of stuffing them in your trunk," he commented, raising his upper lip slightly and reaching forward to inspect the wrinkled fabric of his collar. "I'll have to teach you some helpful organization spells, since you clearly lack the incentive to take care of your things the old-fashioned way."

Harry looked down at his robes and shrugged, laughing in embarrassment.

Severus lifted his eyes briefly to the ceiling and thought to himself that it had been rather presumptuous of the boy to display mirth at his disapproval, for he had been completely serious. "I just stopped by to tell you to join me when you're done here."

"Oh, okay," said Harry, moving to sit back down. "Any specific time, or-"

"Simply when it is agreeable to you. I'm going to take advantage of this time and inspect the Slytherin common rooms, but I should be done with that soon. I will be in my office when you come to find me."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

Severus stopped for a moment before leaving, looked the boy over, and said, "We'll have to talk about that, too."

Before Harry could change his expression to one of befuddlement, Severus had swept away towards the other end of the Great Hall, leaving Harry to wonder what his last comment had meant.

xxx

Somehow, Harry's housemates had managed to detain him for a full hour after Severus had left his table. Had it not been for Hermione, he might have never left. She had huffily shooed him off, and informed him that it was very rude to keep his father waiting. He supposed she was right. After all, as a professor, he had a schedule to keep.

Harry knocked on the door, and found that it was already ajar as it opened slightly. He nudged the door open the rest of the way and peered inside.

Seated behind his desk, with his feet unceremoniously propped up in front of him and leaning back in his chair, was a very soundly asleep Professor Snape. Harry smiled to himself and closed the door behind him, tiptoeing inside and coming to stand directly at his father's side.

"Having a nice nap, sir?" he inquired loudly, standing almost directly above the man's ear.

A loud curse and a crash followed. Severus quickly tumbled backwards, having been startled, and Harry watched in amusement as his long legs flew up from the desk and ascended into the air, landing Severus abruptly on the hard stone floor.

"I'm sorry," Harry laughed, "But I just couldn't resist."

Severus stood up hastily, embarrassed, and began brushing off his robes. "Do not forget, boy," he growled, fisting the front of Harry's robes (and he was rather pleased when he achieved the desired result; Harry stared back at him with wide eyes, and his breathing noticeably hitched), "that you are alone with me for two weeks… I have plenty of time to exact full retribution for whatever misdeeds you do me in the interim."

The firm grip on Harry's collar and the dangerous tone of Severus' voice were enough to keep Harry from laughing again. Sobered considerably, He nodded feebly and muttered a half-hearted apology, relieved when he was released.

"Honestly," Severus muttered to himself, righting his chair and sending Harry another forbidding look.

Harry considered the upshot of questioning why Severus had asked him to come down to his office. He wondered if the man would simply answer, or if he would take it as disrespect and put Harry in his place (and he was in just the sort of mood that would make the latter option a very good possibility).

"Just out of curiosity, sir," said Harry carefully, fully aware that he was treading on dangerous grounds. "Is there any specific reason you asked me here tonight?"

"Of course not," Severus replied facetiously. "What reason could I possibly have for requesting your presence?"

Those words stung. Harry knew they were meant to be taken as a joke; nevertheless… for a moment, Harry felt he was looking back at the face of the same rancorous professor he'd been encountering for the past five years. Harry forced a smile and a small chuckle, shrugging his shoulders.

Severus was not oblivious to the wounded look that had crossed Harry's face; he was in a bad way with his temper tonight, and being rudely awoken, and then laughed at, of all things, had not ameliorated matters.

"My apologies," Severus intoned quietly, looking away from the boy. "I did not intend to… to insult you so."

It was a far cry from an adequate apology, Severus felt, but apologizing had never been Severus' forte.

"S'okay," said Harry, sitting down and habitually pushing his hair down over his forehead, vainly attempting to make it flatter. Severus noticed, with a pang of guilt, that this was one of those habits that only showed its face during moments of insecurity.

"I'm sure you don't appreciate me showing up and interrupting your work," Harry said offhandedly. "It's just the truth, you needn't apologize-"

"Please, Harry," Severus said with difficulty, grimacing at the almost sympathetic and yet pathetic note in his voice. "Don't. I do enjoy your company… I had meant… disregard what I said. I enjoy having you come see me during the afternoons and weekends. I was making an attempt at dry humour when I said that; it was not at all intended to imply the false notion that I have no reason to enjoy your presence. I… I find myself looking forward to your visits, actually."

"Oh…" Harry said, trying not to appear too touched by this sentiment. He knew how uncomfortable this was making the man, and figured it would be best not to make a big deal out of it. By the stoicism of his father's face and tone, he could tell this is what the man wanted. "Well, I look forward to visiting. I'll- er- what did you- oh yes. I'll disregard what you said."

"Thank you," Severus said, making an effort not to breathe a sigh of relief at the close of this particular segment of the conversation. He took a seat opposite Harry, wondering how it was that Harry had ended up seated behind his desk, with him, Severus, seated in front of it. He felt very much the student he'd been twenty years ago. "I called you down here," Severus started, ignoring this minor detail, "to inform you that Professor McGonagall has agreed to escort you to Hogsmeade tomorrow afternoon. She will meet you in the entrance hall at 2:30, which is when your last lesson of the day concludes."

"Defense," Harry said, nodding.

"Yes," said Severus. "I will give her money for you to use-"

"No, that's okay," Harry said, waving his hands. "I have a vault at Gringotts-"

"You do realize that being my son, it is now my position to care for you, correct?"

"Well, that's fine, but-"

"And it is your position to allow me to do so, understood?"

"Well, you can, but-"

"And I demand that you begin saving that money for your life as an adult, is that quite clear?"

"Yes, but-"

"Good."

"I really don't think-"

"Stop arguing with me."

"Sir-"

"That is another thing I wanted to discuss with you," Severus said, leaning forwards and folding his hands on the desk.

"What is?"

Severus hesitated for a moment, closely inspecting his hands. Part of him felt that by asking the boy to address him more informally, he was forcing a certain amount of closeness upon him; a closeness which Severus was not even sure he was ready for yet. However, he could guess that the boy believed he was expected to finish each sentence with 'sir', and he had not shown any interest in taking Severus' proffer to call him by his first name.

"Sir?"

Severus looked up sharply…This had to stop.

"I would like you to consider calling me something other than 'sir'," Severus said carefully, stealing a glance at Harry's expression with narrowed eyes. The boy fidgeted uncomfortably, but said nothing for a few moments. "Giving me respect is beneficial to your well being, of course," Severus said, standing up and leaning against the desk, "but I feel we've…"

How could he state this comfortably?

"Moved past the teacher-student relationship?" Harry uneasily finished for him, looking unsure of himself even as he said it.

"Yes," Severus agreed, nodding. "We have."

"Well… what would I call you?" Harry asked, eyes darting around the room as though searching for an escape. "You told me once to call you Severus, but that just doesn't…"

"Yes, I agree," Severus said. "At the time, however, I didn't wish to force you to call me Professor, and I certainly wasn't comfortable with any more intimate a title."

"And now?" questioned Harry.

"You called me 'Dad' once," Severus said, trying to ignore the distinct feeling of being suffocated that arose whenever he became exceedingly uncomfortable and out of his element. "May I ask why?"

"I was wondering if you'd bring that up," Harry muttered, mostly to himself. "I don't know… it just… slipped out, I guess."

"Did it seem… fitting?" Severus asked, shuddering at the awkwardness of his own tone and choice of words.

"I don't know… I wasn't really thinking about it at the time. But yeah, I guess, it did."

"Well," Severus said, clearing his throat. "I would not be averse to… more frequent use of such a title."

Harry nodded, and in attempt to lighten the mood, said, "Now who's being too formal?"

"Oh, hush up, you impertinent little imp," Severus said, pushing away from his desk and crossing the room in a few long strides.

"I am not an imp," Harry objected, following him.

"Oh, you most certainly are," Severus rebutted, raising a challenging eyebrow. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, you have a written charms exam tomorrow for which you need to prepare."

"How do you know I didn't already prepare?" Harry asked, crossing his arms.

"Because you are lazy," Severus said, slowly pronouncing every syllable and staring formidably down his beakish nose at Harry. "And given the choice, you will always procrastinate. I've always known that about you; it is one of your unchanging qualities."

"Well, I've recently got my act together," Harry said, blocking the door that Severus was about to pull open.

Severus smirked, and said, "Really?"

"Yes," Harry said, nodding fervently.

Admittedly, Severus was a bit flattered that the boy seemed to want to stay, instead of heading back to his common room to study, but he couldn't very well allow him to do so. This was one of those times when Harry did need the help of one Hermione Granger, because Severus wasn't about to help him study and then be nailed to the proverbial wall with the accusation of helping a student to cheat.

"What are the five types of movement magic?" Severus asked, raising his eyebrows and waiting expectantly for Harry's falter.

"Er- we haven't covered that, yet," Harry lied, trying to look innocent. Admittedly, they had… but he only knew three, and he didn't know much beyond that.

"Right," Severus said skeptically, jerking the door open and pointing down the hallway. "Go study."

He watched in amusement as Harry grumbled to himself and started off at a slow trudge towards the Gryffindor common room.

xxx

Knowing that Severus would verify whether or not Harry had studied through his test results, he had gone straight to the common room and sought out Hermione that night. The first things he'd learned were the five types of movement magic; he could only hope that had been a hint of some sort. Surely Severus would have some idea of what was to be on his test.

The Charms test the next morning went surprisingly well. To Harry's pleasant surprise, a good portion of the exam did cover the five types of movement magic and the charms that area encompassed. Thanks to Hermione's help, he felt he did well on the other portions of the test as well, including objects which could be charmed to move and which object properties had to be taken into account when selecting the appropriate movement charm.

Since McGonagall was taking Harry to Hogsmeade directly after his last class of the day, Harry had resolved that the best time to see Dumbledore was most likely during lunch. The man rarely ate his midday meal at the staff table; the same was true for most of the staff. Only the Heads of Houses normally sat in the Great Hall with the rest of the students.

So, as Charms concluded and the rest of the students headed towards the Great Hall, Harry made a departure from the masses and headed in the opposite direction. He reckoned this might be an enjoyable chat; after his conversation with Severus last night, he didn't feel so awkward about getting his father a present. The man was obviously open to furthering their relationship, and this felt like a reasonable course of action. After all, kids got their parents presents all the time… why should Harry be embarrassed to talk to Dumbledore about it? And despite that ever present twinkle in the mad old man's eyes, Harry missed speaking with him. He hadn't much done so since the beginning of the year.

Harry approached the statue, clutching the parchment with the password that Hermione had given him, and looking around to make sure Severus wasn't swooping about anywhere nearby. The man had a nasty habit of turning up at the most inopportune times.

Seeing that the coast was clear, Harry spoke the password and watched as the stairs revolved and revealed themselves to him. Harry stepped on and waited for them to lift him to Dumbledore's office, unable to be bothered by climbing them.

Harry was surprised to see, when he reached the top, that Dumbledore's door was already propped open. He took a few steps forward, placed his hands on the door frame, and leaned inside to look around.

"Harry, my dear boy," Dumbledore exclaimed from somewhere across the room, causing Harry to jump slightly.

"Headmaster?" Harry asked, scanning the room for the concealed Wizard.

"One moment, Harry," Dumbledore said, and Harry heard a loud clatter.

"Are you alright, Professor Dumbledore?"

"Quite!" came the muffled reply.

Harry frowned, but said nothing more as he seated himself in front of Dumbledore's desk. He allowed his gaze to wander over the office, full of raffish charm and holding an abundance of peculiar and antiquated items. It had been far too long since he'd visited, he now found himself contemplating. Gone were the days when he would avoid coming to adults out of fear that he might be turned away, or tacitly unwanted. If Severus could look forward to his presence, certainly his other elders could as well. He'd always been under the impression that when one said 'my door is always open to you' it had been little more than a formality; a standard phrase programmed into adult's minds, much like children became adapted to automatically responding with 'I understand', "Yes, sir," or, in some cases, 'I didn't do it'.

As Dumbledore emerged with his hat tilted to the side and disentangling a stray Christmas ornament from his long, white beard, Harry made up his mind to make a point of visiting the man more often after the Holidays.

"Forgive me," Dumbledore said as he sat down at his desk, gently placing the Christmas ornament aside. "I was attempting to package my outgoing gifts now, before the Holidays begin, lest I be unable to do so when that week finally arrives. My weeks are rather unpredictable, as of late."

Harry nodded earnestly. "I'm sorry for interrupting you," he said, though he had no intention of leaving.

"Not at all," Dumbledore replied dismissively. "Not at all. How may I be of assistance to you?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you might have some advice for me," Harry said, shifting in his seat. "I'm going to be shopping for Christmas presents today… and to be honest, I haven't a clue what to get Sev- er, what to get my father." Harry tested out this term, and admittedly, felt a bit uncomfortable using it. However, it was something he had to get used to; otherwise, he would spend the rest of his life skirting around the title. He supposed the best way to start was to use it around other people first… get used to the idea.

Dumbledore nodded, and a smile crept across his face. "How is everything between you two?"

"Er-fine," Harry answered, a bit thrown off by this evasive change of topic.

Dumbledore nodded. "I have it on good authority that you've been going down to visit him quite often."

"Yeah," Harry said, dipping his chin in affirmative response. "I- it's nice, having someone to visit who doesn't expect me to be a certain way… I don't have to talk or put on a show of being cheerful… and he gives good advice."

Oh, this was annoying. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling like mad, and his smile was all too joyful. "I often find that to be an engaging quality of Severus'," Dumbledore agreed. "He's very truthful in his advice giving, and as he makes no effort to change his disposition for others, he will never expect such a thing from anyone else."

"Yeah," said Harry, wondering if Dumbledore was going to answer his question.

"You are looking forward to spending the Holidays with your father then, yes?" Dumbledore asked.

Apparently, he wasn't yet ready to get around to Harry's query. Harry supposed he could blame the fact that he hadn't visited in so long; Dumbledore was obviously attempting to engage him longer than planned. Ah, well. Harry decided he would give in and allow Dumbledore to involve him in a conversation.

"Yes; aside from the essays I have to write as punishment for the whole Duftown incident, I think it might be fun," Harry admitted.

"Ah, yes, Severus told me about those essays," said Dumbledore.

"I didn't expect him to be so reasonable," Harry said quietly. He couldn't explain why he still felt guilty, now that the ordeal was over and he'd received his punishment. One would think that by receiving a reasonable punishment, he would be more elated than remorseful.

"He might not have been, had he not been so touched by the fact that you risked your life for him," Dumbledore softly intoned, evaluating Harry's expression carefully. "Oh yes," he said, when Harry looked up with his eyebrows raised in question. "He was extremely heartened by that fact; he didn't expect it, you see."

"Why wouldn't he expect it?"

"Harry, like you yourself are still feeling guilty despite the atonement you are doing for your crimes, Severus continues to feel shame and regret for the way he treated you in the past. Though he's apologized and improved his behavior a great deal, he still feels undeserving of your forgiveness and apparent dedication."

"When did he say this?"

"Well, a rendition of this was said to Professor McGonagall just last weekend."

"During the Quidditch match?" Harry asked, remembering seeing McGonagall and his father sitting together.

Dumbledore nodded.

Harry wasn't sure how to feel about this. It was gratifying to know that Severus' opinion about him had changed so much that he honestly felt apologetic for the way he had treated Harry in the past. At the same time, it seemed unfair that despite Severus' improved effort towards being kind to him, he had to suffer for the way he'd acted in the past. Had Harry properly shown his appreciation for everything Severus had done? Had he actually come out and thanked him for his kindness?

"You have made much more difference in Severus' life than I ever would have expected, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, bringing Harry out of his reflections. "I've told Severus many a time, but I haven't had an opportunity to tell you; I was wrong to keep this from the two of you for so long. You've both handled the situation admirably."

It took Harry a moment to speak, but he managed a choked, "Thank you."

Thinking back to the beginning of the year, Harry realized that he and Severus had both come a long way. Yes, they still endured awkward silences and had difficulty knowing how to communicate, but it was getting better. Their relationship was steadily evolving and for the first time, Harry wasn't hesitating to go to an adult with his problems. Having Severus as a father was more beneficial than he'd ever expected; he found himself making better choices, getting better marks, and feeling much more at ease when trouble arose. He finally had a stable father figure; someone he could rely on to be there for him at any time. For now, that meant going down to see the man on weekends and afternoons. When the time for Harry to battle Voldemort came closer, he knew he would have his father there to rely on. And when the end finally came, if he was left standing… Severus would be there to put him back together as he would surely fall apart.

"Now, I believe you wanted advice on what to get your father for Christmas," said Dumbledore, sitting forward and drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Yes, a puzzling query indeed- one I've been attempting to solve for the better part of these past two decades." Harry chuckled, and Dumbledore added, "He is a difficult man to shop for, no?"

Harry nodded. "I just… I've only really known him for about four months, if you think about it."

"How wise of you, Harry, to realize that," Dumbledore said. "Many people think they know Severus; few really do. I'm pleased to say that you are one of those few, however."

"Yeah," Harry agreed somewhat bashfully. He wished Dumbledore would stop commenting on the growing relationship between him and Severus, but this seemed to be the sort of thing Dumbledore couldn't get enough of. "So… what do you think?"

"Ah, what I think," Dumbledore breathed, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head towards the ceiling. "It is not my opinion, Harry, that matters here. My perception of Severus' preferences may be completely different from what you have observed. In the end, the gift should be coming from you."

Well, that was helpful, Harry thought sardonically to himself. "But, sir, I don't even know where to start."

"What is something that would be both practical and meaningful to your father?" Dumbledore asked, maintaining eye contact with the ceiling.

I don't know! That's why I'm asking you! Harry wanted to scream, but refrained from doing so.

"Well… I was hoping you could tell me what he likes," Harry said, shrugging.

"Severus won't admit to liking many things," Dumbledore chuckled. "He buys Potions ingredients for his classes and books for his leisure, but it's doubtful you will be able to choose a reasonably priced volume which he does not already own, or has not already chosen to veto."

"Well, what do you get him every year?" Harry asked, becoming more and more frustrated by the minute.

"My dear boy, do you really think I want you stealing all my gift ideas?" Dumbledore asked, finally tearing his gaze from the ceiling. He laughed, to Harry's relief, and leaned back again, continuing, "I normally give him a large bottle of cognac and whichever book he informs me he's interested in obtaining. That is the standard gift, if you want to know- though I doubt he's informed you of his latest predilection for books, and I very highly doubt Professor McGonagall will allow you to walk into Hogwarts carrying a bottle of expensive liquor.

"Now, you asked me what I get him every year, and I have told you. However, I often find that the most meaningful parts of my gifts come from things I have picked up over the year, which I find remind me of Severus in some way- things that I know he would appreciate. He hardly expresses exuberant gratitude for any gifts, mind you… but you can see in his eyes when he truly finds a gift to be worthwhile.

"Don't meditate too deeply on this, Harry. It will come to you. The fact that you thought of him at all will be what matters to Severus in the end, trust my words."

"I wouldn't guess he was so sentimental," Harry said, half jokingly.

"Perhaps I wouldn't call it sentimentality," Dumbledore disagreed, leaning forward. "I might call it a healthy appreciation for small gestures. Severus has never been one for grandeur."

"No, I suppose not," Harry agreed truthfully. Come to think if it, Dumbledore was right. Though Severus undoubtedly had an appreciation for finer things, great shows of opulence were hardly commonplace with the man. It was one of the things Harry liked about him; he was proper, but not arrogant about what he had. What he had accomplished… maybe. But he wasn't what Harry might call materialistic.

"One more question," Harry said, sitting forward a bit, feeling uneasy about asking this at all. "Severus said he's given money to Professor McGonagall for me to shop with… I know it's an intrusion on his privacy to ask how much money he has… but is he… is he in any position to be giving me money, when I have my own?"

"As your father, yes, he is in the perfect position to be providing for you," Dumbledore answered, raising an eyebrow and giving him a slightly reproachful look. "If you're asking if he has enough money to support both of you, my answer is yes- but that is all I'll say on that matter."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, relieved. "That's all I needed to know."

"You're quite welcome, Harry," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Now, I believe you have fifteen minutes to get down to the Great Hall and eat lunch before the house elves clear it away. I trust you will come by more often, my boy? Your absence has been most missed."

"I will, Headmaster," Harry assured him sincerely, smiling and moving towards the door. "Have a good afternoon."

"I believe I will, Harry. Now go, before you miss your last window of opportunity to eat a good meal; you have a busy night ahead of you."

"That I do," Harry said, nodding one last time and turning to head down the spiraling stone steps.

Hungry, he ran all the way down to the Great Hall, relieved to find there was still food there when he arrived.

xxx

"Harry, pay attention," Hermione hissed, jabbing him in the ribs with her hard elbow. "This is important."

Harry rolled his eyes and attempted to refocus his attention on the teacher in front of the class. He didn't much like this class; so far, they'd covered only things Harry already knew. The first few days they'd been given a chance to try out an invisibility cloak, and the person who was able to go the longest without being discovered by another classmate was given the highest grade. Naturally, Harry had won. They'd spent an entire three weeks studying metamorphmagi, which Harry found to be entirely unnecessary. None of the students in the class were metamorphmagi, so what was the point in learning how to control those powers?

Currently, the Professor was talking about different forms of Polyjuice potion. Hermione was busily scribbling notes on all the different types one could make, but in Harry's opinion, this was entirely unhelpful. They weren't being given the chore of brewing the potions, as this was not Potions class; how would knowing the various formulas help them if they didn't know how to brew them? Besides, Polyjuice took far too long to brew anyways; it wasn't something that was going to help Harry if he got stuck in a sticky situation.

He wanted to move onto the interesting stuff. The syllabus for the second half of the year looked wonderful. They would be covering voice replication spells, facial reconstruction spells, bone growth and reduction spells, and a number of others. Harry would pay attention then. Now? This seemed a waste of time. The N.E.W.T. only covered the core subjects; if Harry didn't remember all the forms of Polyjuice at the end of the year, it would be of no consequence to him.

"Harry," Hermione again whispered angrily. Her hushed yell fell rather more loudly than her normal speaking voice would have done.

"What, Hermione?" Harry hissed back through clenched teeth. Who did she think she was, his mother?

"If you don't start taking notes, I'll inform Professor Snape next time we meet that you are taking school far too lightly," she said snippily, never taking her eyes from her paper. Harry just smirked; he knew she did not intend to do any such thing.

"No one likes a snitch, Hermione," Ron warned from her other side, scrawling lazily as he had already been manipulated into taking notes.

"Harry does; he's a Seeker," Hermione quipped, though her expression was far from amused. "Harry, I'm sorry, but it's for your own good," she said, pushing a piece of parchment in front of him.

Harry found it slightly amusing that their Professor had not said a word during the entirety of their hushed conversation; his focus was on the back of the room, where two Slytherins were passing a piece of parchment back and forth and snickering loudly at whatever they'd put on it. Harry rolled his eyes as the Professor glared at the back of the room, but continued teaching. Some of these new teachers really had no spine when they thought their students were capable of retaliation.

Shaking his head, he picked up his quill and began taking notes.

When class finally ended, Hermione and Ron accompanied Harry back to the common room to get his things.

"How long will you be gone tonight?" Hermione asked as Harry unloaded his schoolbooks onto his four poster and began to fill his bag with all the necessary items. He shrugged as he crumpled his invisibility cloak into a ball and shoved it into the bag.

"I don't know. Depends how long it takes me to find something Sever- my father would like."

Ron made a face and said, "It's really foul of Snape to make you go with McGonagall to buy Christmas gifts, if you ask me."

Harry's face heated up, and he had a feeling it was turning an unattractive shade of red. He kept his head down and said in what he hoped was a dismissive tone, "Yeah, well, at least he's made an effort to let me go."

Ron snorted and sat down on the bed. "Yeah, with McGonagall. If you ask me, it was a wonky punishment in the first place. I mean, how can he expect to keep you confined for so long? He's going to have to let you out eventually."

"Ron," Harry said, looking up at his friend and keeping his knuckles planted on the bed. "Please shut up."

"What?" Ron asked defensively, looking at Hermione, who shook her head as if to say 'I'm not getting involved with this'.

"I'm only saying-"

"I know what you're saying, Ron, and I asked you to shut up," Harry said, throwing his pocket money into the bag, closing it, and slinging it up over his shoulder. He turned without another word and started heading for the stairs. Hermione and Ron followed, but remained silent until they arrived at the Entrance Hall.

"I'll be okay from here, guys, thanks," Harry muttered, picking up his pace and strolling to the other end of the hall to wait by the doors.

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks, but made no effort to protest. Harry ignored them as they walked away, opting instead to lean against the wall and stare out over the grounds. Ron was his best friend, and always would be, but he could be so thick sometimes it was ridiculous. Harry had put up with his carping on Severus for a long time now; he had hoped that with time, the unattractive habit would see itself out of Ron's personality. It hadn't, though. It had definitely stuck; Ron had known for months, and he still hadn't changed his opinion about Snape at all. Of course, it didn't help that Snape had gone from picking on Harry to picking on Ron in the halls, but most of his taunting was good natured… from Harry's point of view. Harry grimaced at that thought, and made note to talk to his father about that.

Professor McGonagall arrived several minutes later, walking briskly towards Harry and snapping at a few stray Ravenclaws who had not yet gone to class.

"Terribly sorry to be so late, Potter," McGonagall said as she strode up to him, checking through her bag for something. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, though he didn't move. He stood awkwardly in front of the door, waiting for her to say something else.

"Well? Let's not dawdle, Potter, it's a long walk down to the village," McGonagall chided, though she smiled ever so thinly as she said it. Harry grinned and started out the door and onto the grounds.

"Do you know where you want to stop first?" McGonagall asked as they reached the gates. She raised her wand, tapped them, and they slowly opened to allow them leave.

"Well, is there a good bookshop in Hogsmeade?" Harry asked, thinking immediately of Hermione. She would be the easiest to shop for, undoubtedly.

"There are two," McGonagall informed him, nodding. "There's a smaller one next to Honeydukes; they've not much of a selection, mostly just the kinds of books you might buy as replacements if you lost yours during the school year. There's another across from Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, which has a wider variety to choose from. I assume you are thinking of Miss Granger?"

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding. "She seems to be the best person to start with; I know what she'll like."

McGonagall nodded and continued walking.

It didn't take Harry long to find the perfect gift for Hermione, much to his relief. He didn't much like bookshops; the smell of books, crisp parchment, and fresh ink reminded him all too conspicuously of homework, for obvious reasons. He paid for his book and left the shop, stopping (much to Professor McGonagall's chagrin) in the middle of the street to decide where to go next.

Hogsmeade was a small town, and Harry was well aware that he had not many options. There was a small shop down the street that was dedicated to muggle objects; it looked interesting, but Harry very much doubted he would find anything in that shop for his father. Harry considered it for a moment, and then rejected the idea. He would go there later if he had time.

There were the typical stops at Zonko's and Honeydukes that needed to be made, but as Harry well knew his way around those two shops, he resigned himself to visiting those at the end of the trip.

Eliminating those two, and clearly having no need to visit the post office, quill shop, or magical device repair, he was left with some quaint little shops that he knew nothing about. Giving McGonagall an apologetic glance, Harry began to wander down the street, looking for something that might interest him. There was a young ladies apparel shop, right next to the wizard garments shop. Harry very much doubted he'd find anything in there to give to either of his female friends, and he certainly wasn't about to give his father a pair of lacy underclothing for Christmas.

A little ways down the street was a small apothecary. McGonagall sighted it first and suggested it as a place to get Severus' gift, but Harry declined. Everyone he had spoken to had seemed to agree that to get Severus potions ingredients, which he would probably use to teach his classes, seemed a bit impersonal. And in Harry's opinion, the thought of reaching under the Christmas tree and unwrapping a jar of pickled newt, or something equally disgusting, sounded absolutely revolting.

Harry couldn't have been more pleased when he stumbled across a stand full of Quidditch memorabilia, right outside of Dervish and Banges. The shopkeeper was a small, bright looking wizard, hilariously covered head to foot in the attire of the Vidlin Valkyries. He smiled kindly and waved his little flag.

"Just looking?" the shopkeeper asked in a low voice, which didn't suit his appearance.

"Yeah, Christmas presents," Harry said tiredly, nodding. He'd not been in Hogsmeade an hour, and he was already tired of shopping. It was very boring work when he wasn't with his friends; normally, half the fun was buying their presents while they weren't looking, constantly on the verge of being caught. Harry supposed that was his Gryffindor side coming out; he liked adventure, even the smallest kinds.

"Well," said the little wizard, "We have a wide variation of apparel representing the many Quidditch teams of the United Kingdom, and if you step around to the other side of the cart, there are some more amusing items which might interest your friends."

"Thank you," Harry said, hoping to silence the shopkeeper. He kept talking, however.

"Everything on this cart is less than twenty-five galleons, aside from the autographed photos, which are all forty."

Harry nodded as a stack of signed photos was shoved under his nose; he regretfully took them, and tried not to sigh exasperatedly as he began sifting through the pile. It took him a good ten minutes to get down to the bottom of the deck, at which time he shook his head and handed them back to the wizard.

"No?" the wizard asked, looking a bit put out.

Harry shook his head. There had been no photos of Chudley Cannon players, and as far as he knew, Ron wasn't especially interested in any other teams.

Without saying another word to the shopkeeper, Harry edged around to the other side of the cart. Smiling, he bent down and inspected the moving figures behind the clear glass doors of the cart. At the World Cup, there had been moving figurines representing different Quidditch players. These were entire Quidditch stadiums, complete with the entire team working in formation, passing the ball back and forth and trying to score on their keeper. They looked to be engaging in a team practice. Harry watched in amusement as one player scored a goal, and the whole team turned around, smiled, and waved at him. Grinning, Harry stood up.

"These little working figurines of Quidditch Teams," Harry started to the shopkeeper, pointing down at the glass. "Do you have any of the Chudley Cannons?"

The shopkeeper grimaced. "The company I buy from provides them, but they're not a very popular team, so I haven't any on stock. However, if you would like to place a post order, I can have one delivered to you before Christmas."

Harry resisted pointing out that the Vidlin Valkyries were hardly well known.

"Perhaps within the next week?" he asked, and the shopkeeper nodded. "How much?"

"Seven galleons for sending costs-"

Harry frowned as the shopkeeper spoke. How much money did it take to send an owl?

"-Five for packaging-"

Funny, Harry would have thought packaging would have been a sending cost.

"-Ten for ordering directly from the company-"

Weren't things less expensive coming directly from their makers?

"-and you may add those small fees to the twenty-five galleons they are marked for sale here."

Harry's forehead crinkled up as he made a concentrated effort to add up those sums. If he was correct, that came to forty-seven galleons. It seemed a bit ridiculous to pay almost double for a team that, according to this wizard, wasn't even that popular. Harry looked at McGonagall, who was staring with narrowed eyes and an unhappy expression at the shopkeeper. She gave him a barely perceptible shake of the head, but made no effort to move. Harry took it that he was supposed to argue this price.

"I don't really think this is worth nearly fifty galleons," Harry said, turning back to the shopkeeper. "I suppose I'll have to look elsewhere-"

Flustered, the little man shook his little head and quickly blurted out, "Well, perhaps we can negotiate the price a bit! If you buy one of these here-" he paused as he pulled out a heavily laden rack of Quidditch themed jewelry, "-fine pieces of jewelry, we can take ten percent off your overall order. I'm sure there's a young girl who's caught your interest- perhaps a present for her?"

"Oh, really?" Harry asked. The shopkeeper nodded vigorously. Harry considered this for a moment. He couldn't think of a girl that he particularly fancied at the moment, and Hermione wouldn't much enjoy any of these… but then again, he was spending Boxing Day at the burrow… and Ginny had been spending an awful lot of time around him, Ron, and Hermione lately. She might be hurt if she wasn't given anything, and Harry really wanted to get this for Ron. "And how much are these?" Harry asked, gesturing towards the necklaces the wizard was pulling off the rack.

"Well, they're made with fine silver-"

"How much?" McGonagall clipped from beside Harry.

The man flinched at her cold tone, and said, "Twenty-two galleons."

"So you'll take seven galleons off the overall price, then?" McGonagall asked, raising her eyebrow and looking at him almost bemusedly. It was plain to see that she thought this was a ridiculous offer.

The man visibly swallowed and looked hopefully towards Harry, as though expecting some sort of support from him. Harry offered none. Instead, he said, "I'll give you fifty galleons for the lot. Take it or leave it."

This did not appear to make the small shopkeeper happy. He crossed his arms, sat back, and examined Harry for a moment, as though searching for areas of weakness which he might attack. "Fine," he said after a moment, and then sheepishly grabbed a pad of paper off his stand. "…If you'll sign your autograph for my daughter."

Harry was annoyed by this request, but decided to comply. After all, he was getting two Christmas presents for the price of one… well, the highly overpriced price of one. He signed the pad of paper, handed over the galleons, and began filling out his post order form.

Growing noticeably weary of wandering the streets without apparent aim, McGonagall suggested the next store, saying they would most likely find the best gifts for Severus there. The two Heads of House didn't exchange gifts, McGonagall had clarified, but she did seem to know his taste. Nothing overly sentimental, yet nothing so general and common that it could be given as a gift to anyone. And, the man liked quality. As a result, Harry had a very hard time looking for gifts in this store; they were all quite expensive.

Harry still didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to spend his own money. The Dursleys had never had any qualms with this; they certainly made no effort to provide for him. If they had qualms with anything, it was that Harry was able to provide for himself, not that they weren't able to give him their money.

This shop was dim, but well kept. Where rays of sunshine streaked through the window and across the floor, one could see the small particles of dust hovering in the air. The items on the shelves were old and antiquated, yet rare and beautiful in their own right. Some appeared to be newly made, but the fashion in which they were crafted suggested their making had originated centuries ago. McGonagall remained close to Harry, explaining different items in which he showed interest.

Harry tried to follow every piece of advice he had been given regarding Severus' present. Harry looked for something that would express some sort of sentiment, but was practical at the same time. He looked for something personal, but nothing that would make Severus feel as though he had been analyzed to the point of intrusiveness. He looked for something of value, but nothing extravagant.

It was an extremely challenging search.

It was when all seemed lost and Harry was brought to the brink of capitulation that something finally caught his eye. On a high ledge next to the purchasing counter sat perched a display of a large map, a small, jagged, indigo crystal, and a larger smooth white orb.

"Excuse me, ma'am, may I ask what this is?" Harry asked, addressing a young, dark looking woman who was watching him from behind the counter.

She could be considered attractive; she had an unrefined look about her that was, to a certain extent, charming. She was young, and had smiled warmly at Harry when he'd walked through the door; unexpected, for she didn't look like the friendly type. She wore a loosely hanging, gauzy crimson dress that reminded Harry of a gypsy's attire. Her long, claret colored nails curled a bit at the end, seemingly in need of a good trim, but not likely to receive one. She wore her wiry black curls tied back into one long, low hanging tress, aside from the strands that fell around her face.

"Please don't call me ma'am, it makes me feel old," she said, rising from where she sat and coming over to where he stood. "My name is Eithre; you may address me as such. You wanted to know about this?"

She touched the item above Harry's head, making him feel rather short, as he hadn't been able to reach. She was very tall, and the high, thin heel on the back of her shoe gave her several inches on him.

Harry nodded. "What does it do?"

"Notice that this crystal is a deep indigo," Eithre instructed, extending it to him. "It doesn't start out that way. Are you familiar with the theory of one's magical aura in relation to colors?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head and wondering vaguely if it was something he might see on his N.E.W.T.

Eithre nodded and began to explain. "Your magical aura is something like your own individual signature. It is unique to you; no one else will have quite the same aura as you do. As you grow into an accomplished wizard, experience new events and emotions, and gain more knowledge, your aura may change. It is linked to you, as a person, and will transform along with your ideas, beliefs, and personality.

"A crystal may be used to recognize one's magical signature. By channeling your magic through this crystal, just once, it will learn to recognize that signature, and remain suited to do so. That is the reason for the color; what does the color this stone tell you about the person to which it is attuned?"

"I don't know," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders and feeling like quite an idiot.

Eithre smiled, and flipped the crystal over in her hands a few time. "This crystal contains the signature of my magical aura. It represents my distinctive ability to understand myself and to allow ideas and inspiration to spring from within. As a point of interest, it coincides with my wand wood- Rosewood. It's a wood known for one with the ability to understand matters of the heart."

"So this is… a key to understanding your magical personality?"

To Harry's displeasure, Eithre laughed quietly. "No," she admitted, shaking her head. "You must be wondering why I'm telling you all this. This crystal can be used to track the one it is linked to, when used in coordination with this map and this orb. This orb is spelled to only respond to the first person who uses it; it will show you where a person is and what they are doing. It is an extremely safe way of keeping track of someone you care about."

Harry stared at the crystal in her hand for a moment. This. This was the perfect gift to give Severus. It was a perfect expression of trust, just personal and practical enough to do the trick. What better way existed to show him that though they had once had their differences, that was behind them? At one time, Harry had spent his time deceiving and sneaking around Severus; now he could give him full access to knowledge of his doings, and he didn't mind, because he did trust the man.

"How much is this?" Harry asked, hoping it would be within his range of expenses.

Eithre grimaced, and set the crystal back up on the shelf. "Who is this for?" she asked, moving back to her counter. Harry followed.

"How did you know it was for someone?"

"You're carrying bags, and you don't seem like the type to shop much for yourself."

"Oh," Harry said, glancing down at the bags in his hands. She really was insightful. "It's umm- it's for my father."

"An interesting thing for a boy to give his father," she said quietly, raising an eyebrow.

Harry nodded. "I want him to know that I trust him."

The woman nodded, and pointed to the shelf. "I'm linked to my mother, through that. She owns this store, I just work here during the day. She's rather taken with all this," she said, waving around at the store.

"You're not?" Harry asked, looking her over.

Eithre stared at him a bit funnily for a moment, probably wondering why he was sizing her up as he said that. Then she laughed, looking down at her clothes. "This?" she asked, lifting the fabric between two long, dark nails. "My mother insists that no one wants to buy from a shopkeeper who doesn't look knowledgeable. I tell her that looking mad and outdated doesn't equate eruditeness, but she disagrees."

Harry laughed, thinking that this woman's personality didn't match the visage. He then realized she had skirted around his question of price. "You didn't answer my question, though."

"When did you find out you had a father?"

Harry frowned, wondering how she could possibly know to ask that. She tipped her head to the side and motioned to his forehead. "According to legend, your father was killed by You-Know-Who, and I can't remember hearing you had been adopted."

"Oh," Harry said, looking around to see if McGonagall was nearby. She was inspecting something that resembled a kettle a few isles away. He expected that if she knew he'd let such a thing slip, he'd be reprimanded. "August," he answered.

She nodded. "The lowest I can go is ninety galleons, because I can see that this means a lot to you."

"How much is it normally?" Harry asked, scrunching up his face.

"Do you want it for ninety, or do you not?" Eithre asked, looking at him determinedly.

"I-"

Harry didn't know. It seemed an awful lot to pay… but if…

"I'll be right back," Harry said, turning and heading in the opposite direction.

He reached McGonagall shortly, who was onto inspecting the next item on the shelf.

"I have a favor to ask of you," Harry said, hoping she would acquiesce.

"And what's that, Potter?" McGonagall asked, straightening and turning to him.

"Let me buy Severus' present with my own money," Harry said, hoping it didn't sound too much like a demand.

"He said you might do this," McGonagall muttered, shaking her head. "Potter, I am on strict orders from your father not to let you spend any of your own money, is that quite clear? Now, I personally think you ought to be grateful that Severus is willing to provide for you, instead of arguing the point. And do not think for a moment that Severus cannot afford to do this-"

"It just doesn't seem to me that a teacher's salary can-"

"Careful what you say, Potter, for I live on a teacher's salary as well. Severus spends most of his time at Hogwarts, where all of his food and living is provided. He rarely ventures out, and when he does, he receives money from the Headmaster to purchase the supplies for his classes. Aside from that, the man really spends very little money. Do not worry your little head, Potter. Severus is well off… though, I would prefer if you did not tell him you heard such from me."

"I found something I want to get him, but the lowest the shopkeeper said she can go is ninety galleons," Harry said desperately. "And I still have shopping to do."

"Potter, that is well within the price range," McGonagall said, smiling and placing a hand on his shoulder, steering him towards the counter.

After finishing at that shop, Harry made quick stops at both Zonko's and Honeydukes to pick up a few trinkets to add to his friends' gifts. For Ron, he got a quill that advertised having the ability to do one's homework. He hadn't seen anything else at Zonko's that looked interesting, so he had moved onto the candy store. For Hermione, he purchased an entire bag of sugar quills, thinking fondly of her habit of nibbling on her quills as she worked. For Ginny, he purchased a large bag of chocolates; he wasn't sure why, but they seemed appropriate for her. He debated whether or not to buy Ron anything else, as he'd already purchased the quill and the model of the Quidditch stadium. He resolved to buy Ron a few packs of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, thinking it would be something to occupy him during Quidditch practice.

"Do we have a bit more time left?" Harry asked as they stepped out of Honeydukes, ignoring the way she was looking disapprovingly at the bags of candy in his hands.

"A bit, yes," she said, looking back at the castle. Was that a look of longing in her eyes? "Why do you ask?"

"There's a shop down there I wanted to visit," Harry said.

Little did he know, he would end up finding his favorite gift of all in the book section of that muggle imitation gift shop. He went back to the castle that evening feeling very satisfied indeed.

xxx

Treading through the halls after McGonagall, Harry wondered when he was going to be dismissed. He had tried to dismiss himself, back in the entrance hall, by thanking McGonagall for taking him to Hogsmeade, but it hadn't worked. She had continued walking while she answered him, which Harry didn't think was her way of saying, "You are free to go".

So, here he was, following McGonagall through halls that seemed to be leading to her office. She hadn't yet told him to stop following her, so he figured he was doing what she wanted…. that was how he figured out if he was doing something right or wrong these days. He waited to be yelled at.

His suspicions were correct; McGonagall arrived at the door to her office, and stepped back, holding it open for him. "If you wouldn't mind terribly, Potter, I was wondering if I might have a chat with you?"

Harry was a bit confused about which subject she might like to chat on, but he complied and walked into the office. Quidditch, perhaps? The house cup and his failure to earn the house points until the end of every year? Procrastination did seem like something she would lecture him on. Maybe she intended to discuss-

"Professor Snape," McGonagall said in what would be a conversational tone, if it were not for the arched eyebrow on her lined face. She sat down at her desk as she continued. "You and he have been… getting along?"

Harry nodded, eyeing her with a look of bewilderment on his face.

McGonagall looked disgruntled that he had not elaborated. "He is… treating you well?"

Harry nodded again, his expression unchanging.

"Are you happy?" McGonagall asked, more insistently now.

Harry nodded again, and one of her worn, fisted hands pounded onto her desk.

"For goodness sake, Potter, say something," she said in frustration, drumming her fingers impatiently on her desktop.

Harry shrugged. "I like talking to him. He takes care of me, I guess, in a way… he seems to care. I mean, he doesn't actually come out and say it that often, but I can tell- like when he yells at me to do my homework, or educates me about random teas so I'll be educated about something other than magic… yeah. It's nice to have someone who'll do that."

Now it was McGonagall's turn to look bewildered. "You… you enjoy it when he yells at you?"

Harry laughed. "Well, he doesn't usually yell… not all the time. And he doesn't mean it to sound harsh. It's just his way of communicating."

McGonagall looked at him oddly for a moment, and then shook her head as though to clear her thoughts. "I must say, Potter, you have certainly grown since you first arrived here. I still remember when you burst into my office, proclaiming wildly that Professor Snape was going to steal the Philosopher's Stone." McGonagall gave a little chuckle at the thought, before proceeding. "You are prepared to spend the entirety of the Holiday with him, though?"

Why did people seem so perplexed by this notion? Yes, he was going to spend the Holiday with Severus. The man was his father, after all, and this is what fathers and sons did… right?

"Is there something abnormal about that?" Harry questioned.

McGonagall shook her head, and said comfortingly, "I've no intention to make you doubt your relationship with your father, Potter. If I did, he would undoubtedly be down here hollering at me in an instant- it's surprising, how protective he is over you, and how much he cares for your opinion. I've never seen him act that way before. I simply wanted to hear it from your point of view; Severus has been known to be quite talented at trading one visage for anther, in order to suit his purpose. I had to make sure."

Harry felt strangely touched by this sentiment; he had rarely had the feeling that McGonagall watched over him. She wasn't a very emotional person, and rarely betrayed any feelings of affection for individual students… of course, she had given him that broom in first year, and had helped him with his O.W.L. work, and had… fine. So she did show that she cared; was Harry simply blind to any shows of concern? He never seemed to notice them unless he was looking for them.

"Well, yeah, we get along, if that's what you wanted to know," Harry said.

"How have your friends reacted to this?"

Harry was a bit taken aback by this question. Who asked that? How did his friends react? What was this? An interrogation?

"Well," Harry started uneasily, shifting in his seat, "Hermione and Ginny have both been very supportive."

"And Mr. Weasley?"

"Not so much," Harry admitted. "He makes a lot of little… remarks, about Sev- my father- and… I don't know."

"Have you told him how you feel about that?"

"I finally told him to shut up today," Harry said, quirking his lips a little.

"That might not be a forward enough message for Mr. Weasley," McGonagall told him, raising her eyebrows. That seemed to be all she was going to say on the matter, as she rose from her desk to pat Harry on the shoulder. "I'm glad things are going well for you. I won't keep you any longer- but if things get difficult with Severus, or anything happens over the Holiday, you may feel free to write me, and I will give him what-for. Understood?"

Harry resisted the urge to laugh, as he knew she was serious. "Yes, thank you, Professor."

"You're quite welcome, Potter. Now I suggest you head back to your common room."

Harry did as she asked, wondering as he walked back to Gryffindor why it was that she always seemed to want to send him there.

xxx

Apparently, Harry only arrived at the common room to be sent back out again.

He first hid his bags in the trunk up in his dorm, securing it with a locking spell. Tired, but not ready to go to bed, he then went back down to the common room, where groups of Gryffindors were gathered in bunches. He found Ron, Seamus, and Ginny and went over to them, flopping down in one of the empty seats near Ginny.

"Hermione was looking for you earlier," Ron said without looking up from his game of exploding snap.

"Oh?" Harry asked, frowning as he looked at Ron's odds of winning. "Why's that?"

Ron looked up, apparently thinking for a moment, and then shrugged. "No clue."

Ginny rolled her eyes and said to Harry, "Professor Snape and she are working on the private potions lessons," she said pointedly, and Harry understood her meaning. "They wanted you to join them when you got back."

Harry stared at her for a moment, then groaned loudly and flopped back. "I am tired," he complained. "And I need a bath, and I'm hungry, and I apparently missed dinner in the Great Hall. The last thing I want to do is go down there to work on potions."

"You're lucky Hermione's not here, mate, or you'd get a earful," Ron said, laughing a bit.

Ginny glared at her brother. "Well, I'm here, so he's just as bad off, isn't he Ron?" She turned to Harry, and hissed quietly, "Your father and best friend are working around the clock to make a potion that is supposed to helpyou. The least you can do is go down there and help."

Harry quickly rose, thinking he was getting off much more easily than he might have with Hermione. He figured the best way to keep it that way was to agree and leave for Severus' dungeons. He and Ron exchanged sympathetic glances as he turned to leave, their earlier fight forgotten, but not finished.

Harry had been down to the dungeons a number of times, so it hardly felt like any time at all, getting down there. The door to Severus' office was closed, but Harry had a hunch that he'd already charmed them to recognize his touch, as they had discussed. Hoping against hope he wouldn't be stunned, Harry reached out and grasped the door handle. To his relief, no spells repelled him or sliced him in two. He smiled at the thought that Severus might actually do something like that; he found it somewhat amusing.

There was a note written for him on a small end table near the office door. Severus must have known he would come this way.

Harry,

I've left the door to my private quarters open for you. We will be in the potions classroom, just down the hall from my office. Do not come down there until you have eaten what I left on a plate for you on my table. It is charmed to be kept warm, so you shan't need to heat it. You may also make yourself a cup of tea, as I don't keep pumpkin juice. Burn this note in the fireplace when you're through.

With relief, Harry noticed that the note wasn't signed. He was trying to become accustomed to calling Severus his father, but seeing the word "dad" in black and white… it would have been too daunting.

Harry looked back down at the note, and grinned, for two reasons. One, Severus had thought to leave him some dinner, as he had spent too long shopping. It was really very kind of him (and also proved that he kept an eye open for him at dinner, which didn't feel awful, either). Two, Severus was so paranoid about someone seeing a note which denoted that he was capable of kindness, that he actually asked Harry to burn it when he was through.

Harry folded it and slipped it into his pocket.

As promised, the dinner Severus left out for Harry was still warm, and extremely fulfilling after a long day of shopping. On his plate was a large helping of Shepherds pie, with three large, golden biscuits on the side. Harry used them to soak up the gravy that ran off his food, and found himself quite enjoying the quiet as he sat with a nice cup of tea. Part of him felt guilty that he hadn't hurried to eat and gone down to the Potions classroom… but then, Severus hadn't mentioned anything about hurrying. He was rarely of any help to them, anyways.

When Harry finished his cup of tea, he reluctantly cleaned up his place and started off towards the Potions classroom. He was tempted to fall asleep on Severus' couch, instead; he wouldn't get yelled at until morning, at any cost, and he could avoid doing work. However, a sense of duty and a disinclination to anger Severus put him off that idea.

The door to the classroom was cracked open, which Harry took as a sign that he was to let himself in. A large cauldron was bubbling across the room, and Severus was leaning against one of the tables, addressing Hermione formally. She looked like she was itching to write down his words, but sadly had no quills or parchment handy.

"So then we won't need to do anything during the week of the Holiday?" Hermione was asking.

Severus shook his head. "It will need to be checked, every once in a while, of course, but I can accomplish that when I return here from time to time. Still, nothing can be done until we have Draco's blood. That will be the next step, followed by the addition of Voldemort's flesh, if Draco can manage it."

"I certainly hope he can," Hermione said softly, looking worriedly at the ground.

Harry waited to see that they were done speaking, and then cleared his throat to announce his arrival. Both Severus and Hermione looked over at him; Hermione flashed him a great smile, and Severus gave him a nod.

"Did you find my missive?" Severus asked, pushing off of the table and walking towards Harry.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, thanks for keeping dinner for me."

"Well, you're hardly in any shape to be skipping meals," Severus said brusquely, scrutinizing Harry's thin frame. Harry longed to retort that the same might be said about Severus, but thought that in front of Hermione, that might be pushing it. "I trust all went well in Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, grinning. "Thanks for letting me go."

Another nod. Severus cleared his throat and stalked over to his desk, sifting through the pile of papers there. Harry decided he liked Severus better when no one else was around; he talked more. Funny; at one time, Harry would have thought that the best way to have Snape around was silently.

"I'm glad you're here," Hermione said as she reached Harry. "I hate walking back to the common room after hours by myself, and I didn't really want to ask Professor Snape to accompany me."

"I'm sorry if he's been awful to you," Harry said, glancing over at Severus, who was now angrily tossing papers to the side, apparently looking for something. He stifled a laugh.

"Oh, it's not that," Hermione said. "He's actually been rather tolerable; good company for a working environment, even. I just didn't want to seem like some sort of scared little girl to him, if you understand."

"Miss Granger, have you seen my notes on the Curatio Vulni potion?" Severus snapped from across the room, now using his wand to file all the papers he'd just thrown off his desk in frustration.

Hermione turned red, and then ran back to her bag. "Yes, I'm so sorry sir, I was copying down information on the Alcruor Prosapia earlier, and I accidentally started copying those, and then I thought that since I'd already written half of them I might as well write the rest… and I accidentally shoved them in my bag… oh, here you go."

At least she keeps her papers neat, Severus thought to himself while rolling his eyes and snatching his notes from her.

"What's the Alcruor Prosapia?" Harry asked, looking confusedly between the both of them.

"It's the potion we've been working on, Harry," Hermione answered, clearly trying to hide here embarrassment as she hastily shoved her folder back into her bag.

"Oh," Harry said, feeling rather stupid. "I don't remember hearing a name."

"We don't usually use the name, Harry, because if others were to overhear what we were doing, the results could be disastrous." Severus finished putting his papers away, and then turned to Harry. "You would do well to remember that; no one can find out about what we are doing."

Harry decided to leave out the fact that Ron and Ginny already knew. He would be sure to mention this to them.

"Miss Granger, Harry will meet you outside in a moment," Severus said stiffly, obviously still a bit irritated that she had taken his notes. "I need to have a word with him."

Harry's first thought was: It wasn't me. He thought to say that, however, would seem suspicious, so he stayed quiet.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione mumbled, walking out with her head hung so that her bushy brown hair would hide the slowly fading red tinge of her cheeks.

Severus watched Hermione disappear into the corridor, and then smirked. "Serves the girl right for taking my notes; she can stand in the dark corridor for a few minutes. I wanted to tell you that we will be leaving on Friday, after I see my students onto the train. We will need to return periodically during the week; I still have some students to look after. However, we may be able to spend a fair amount of time at the house."

"I don't mind returning," Harry said truthfully. He had spent every Christmas here; it would feel odd if he didn't even see the place over the holiday.

Severus nodded his approval. "You may not need to pack much, since we will be returning, but I would prefer it if you were more prepared than not."

"Yeah, no problem," Harry said. "I will be."

"Good. You should be on your way now. I think Miss Granger is getting anxious."

Severus pointed to the crack of the door, through which Harry could see Hermione's profile. She was biting her lip anxiously and looking around; she even jumped at one point. Severus refrained from laughing, but he was unable to hide the smirk on his face.

"You are not a nice man," Harry said, shaking his head and heading for the door.

Severus shrugged. "Worse has been said."

Harry bid his father goodnight, and stepped out into the corridor with Hermione. She breathed an audible sigh of relief, and he held back a snort of amusement.

"I didn't think you were afraid of the dark, Hermione," he said quietly, looking down to hide his smile.

"I'm not afraid of the dark," she said crossly, sending him a dark look. "But I'm not eager to run into the Bloody Baron in the dungeons, that's for certain... It's downright creepy down here, you can't disagree." She shivered.

"It's not as though you've never been down here before," Harry countered, looking at her from the side. She shrugged, and rubbed the back of her neck.

"I know... but he spent the entire time tonight talking about the rising resistance to the light side, and how we need to be constantly wary. Then he goes on about how Hogwarts isn't even quite safe anymore... and sends me to stand out in a dark corridor and wait by myself! And on top of that, I'm positive Peeves is down that hall, making those terrifying noises just to frighten me, but I wasn't about to check, was I?"

Harry was silent, and Hermione looked at him suspiciously. Slowly, it came to her.

"He did that on purpose, didn't he?"

"Yep," Harry replied, nodding and allowing himself a chuckle.

Hermione growled and muttered something under her breath. For the first time since he'd come to Hogwarts, Harry believed he had just heard Hermione call a teacher a foul name. In that moment, he couldn't have been more thrilled with the way Severus' mind worked. He looked over at Hermione. This was so much more entertaining than a Quidditch game.

xxx End Chapter 34 xxx