"After you," the Potions Master politely deferred.
"Can't imagine what you'd get me," Draco murmured, casting a quick glance at Harry.
"Oh, I'm as bad as Hermione," Harry admitted. "I got you what I thought you needed. Actually, I didn't have much choice as I really didn't know anything you might want. I mean, you have everything you want."
"I told you," Draco laughed at that. "Emeralds. Diamonds. Racing brooms."
"But you have all those," Harry laughed back. It was true, too. At least, he thought it was. Harry was no judge of gems, but he was almost sure that buttons on some of Draco's shirts were made of precious stones. And that wasn't even counting the ring he sometimes wore on his middle finger...
"Nice paper," Draco said, turning the present over in his hand. He had torn into his previous gifts, but this one he seemed to be treating with a bit more reserve. He actually pulled one end of the ribbon, slowly unfurling the bow... but then with a flourish, he yanked it suddenly free and shouted, "I got it!"
Harry noticed that the ribbon now had a crimson snitch frantically flying up and down its length. "Oh, very good," he approved. "A hundred and fifty points to Slytherin."
"I wish," Draco softly sighed, but then he was ripping the paper off, his mood brightening as he saw a small, velvet-covered jeweler's box. He popped it open and pulled out a silver chain with a bluish-green amulet dangling from the end. Holding it up before his eyes, Draco studied the flat turquoise disk, then nodded to Harry and slung the necklace around his neck. He tucked the amulet beneath his pajama top so it would rest against skin.
"Very nice," he said. "Very nice, Harry. Especially considering you had to have ordered it before we'd worked everything out."
"Oh, so you know that turquoise is supposed to impart some protection to the wearer...?"
"Not supposed to, Harry, does. Did you know it also represents friendship?"
Harry bit his lip. "No, actually I didn't know that. But... that's all right, then." Another thought occurred to him. "If you're so sure the turquoise has this protective effect, why wouldn't you have had some long before now?"
Draco laughed. "Ah. Well, in certain circles it's considered a rather barbaric form of magic. The best turquoise comes from Tibet, you know, and Asian wizardry isn't at all like the European kind. My father didn't approve."
"But you do?"
The Slytherin boy appeared to think about that. "Well, it's a bit much for British purebloods to practice all the Dark Arts they can get their wands on, and then call a piece of rock uncivilized, I always thought."
Harry nodded. "Um, it's supposed to turn more bluish when you're in danger. Maybe you should put it where you can see it?"
"I'll feel it change," Draco assured him. "I can feel it thrumming pleasantly along right now. Quite nice. Thank you, Harry."
"You're welcome." The boy swiveled on the couch to face Snape.
"I somehow doubt I'll catch the snitch unwrapping this," the Potions Master murmured as again, he used a fingernail to neatly slice through paper and ribbon. The box inside contained several dozen lengths of Honeyduke's best black licorice.
"Ah, you remembered. Very thoughtful, Harry," Snape said with a brief smile at the boy.
Harry didn't really know how to say it. Now that the time had come, he hoped he wasn't being hopelessly stupid about everything. But it was what Snape had said he'd wanted, and more than that... it was probably what Harry needed, too. Strange as that might seem.
He swallowed hard and cleared a throat suddenly gone rough. "Um, Professor. The licorice is just a little something I added in because I knew you liked it. But your real present..." Harry looked away, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's underneath the tissue, sir."
Raising an eyebrow, Snape pushed the licorice to one side and slid his fingers beneath the crinkled green tissue paper, then emerged with a tiny key.
Draco's eyes went completely round. "Oh, sweet Merlin above, you're giving him your entire vault?"
"No," Harry said shortly, wishing Draco hadn't said that. Snape wouldn't think that was what he was doing, would he? Harry's heart began to beat a painful rhythm inside his chest, and it wasn't because he was afraid of losing his money. That wasn't it at all. He just didn't want Snape to think he was completely brainless, doing a thing like this. "There's a note," he admitted, glad now that he'd included one. He didn't think he could explain. Not coherently, anyway. Especially not with moneybags Malfoy listening in.
Snape pulled a slip of parchment from the box. His lips set in a thin, straight line, he read it through without comment. Harry practically cringed, wishing he would smile or something. Didn't the note explain matters well enough? He'd gone through a ridiculous number of drafts to get it right. It wasn't eloquent, and it probably lacked transitions, but for all that, it was right.
He just hoped Snape would think so, too.
Dear Professor Snape, it read,
Would you take this key and put it away somewhere safe for me until I'm grown and out on my own? You told me not so long ago that that was what you would "really like," and after I'd thought about everything we'd discussed, I realized it was a good idea. You see, I told you once that I didn't know how to be anybody's son, and while that's probably still true, I do know one thing that I didn't then. You do know how to be a father. You're actually really good at it.
I want to be your son, I really do. But it seems like up until now, I've really just been saying that I am. I haven't actually been being it. And that's where the money comes in. I'm just so used to looking after myself. But in doing that, I feel like I've missed out on some huge part of life, and as long as I remain a "quasi-independent adult," as you put it, I'll never know what I'm missing. You thought I didn't even realize you were supposed to support me, but I do realize that. It was just out of reach for me, if that makes sense. But now I think it's not.
So... would you take this key and put it away somewhere safe for me until I'm grown and out on my own?
With deepest respect,
Harry James Potter
Harry knew for a fact that Snape wasn't a slow reader, so the time he took over the note had to mean that he was reading it over several times. Finally, though, he looked up, his eyes about as dark and expressionless as Harry had ever seen them. Like endless tunnels, those eyes.
Except now, Harry didn't assume that meant that Snape had no feelings. Actually, he thought it meant the man was keeping his feelings hidden.
"Harry," Snape said at last, his voice rough as he looked into Harry's eyes, "This is... well done of you, but not necessary. I worry that you are trying to please me. Don't you realize..." The tunnels in his eyes flooded with emotion. It was masked in a moment, no more than a fleeting glimpse of something profound, but Harry had seen it. That was all that mattered. "You already do please me, faults and all."
"Thank you," Harry whispered, keeping their gazes locked, difficult as that was. He wanted to run away and hide. That would be easier than all this need, all this raw emotion. But that, he sensed, wasn't the way to heal, to have what he'd always longed for, what he'd thought he would never get to have. "But I wasn't trying to please you, honest. I mean, well... I thought it would, you know. You said it would. But that was because you were thinking of me. I knew you didn't want the key for yourself; you wanted it for me."