"Now, Albus, Severus and Harry are still in their pyjamas, and we do have other students here at the school who need looking after." She paused, turning an affectionate eye on Harry, who was still perched on Snape's lap, happily examining the flute Hagrid had carved him. "We can have your Christmas sing-a-long later this morning in the Great Hall."
"Well, if you insist," Dumbledore sighed, but the blissful expression on Harry's face soothed his disappointment. "Very well, we'll just leave you in peace for now, my boys. See you in the Hall for breakfast!"
Harry's close proximity prevented Snape's candid reply, and Minerva - after another glance at the vein throbbing in Snape's temple - efficiently shooed the rest out.
Snape breathed a sigh of relief as the door clicked behind them, and instantly raised and strengthened his wards in what he knew was a futile attempt to prevent Dumbledore from ever returning. A shrill toot in his ear made him jump and he directed a fearsome glare at Harry, who immediately lowered the flute and bit his lip.
"Sorry," Harry said quickly, trying to hide the flute behind him. Would his da now confiscate and smash his gift as Uncle Vernon would surely have done?
An evil grin stole over Snape's face as a truly sadistic idea entered his mind. "You obviously need instruction in playing that flute," he told the brat sternly.
"Y'sir," Harry agreed unhappily. Here it came - the "since you can't play it, you have no use for it, so hand it over....CRUNCH!"
"I am certain Hagrid would be happy to provide that instruction," Snape continued, cackling inwardly. "I think you should restrict your playing to his hut while you are learning. If you present yourself at his hut several times a week, you will doubtless be able to play in no time." That ought to punish that numbwitted giant for giving the child such a noisy toy!
Harry brightened immediately. He was so stupid! Imagining that his da would destroy his gift when all he did was suggest a way Harry could get lessons. He hugged his da for the thousandth time this morning. "Thank you, Da!"
Now that there were no spectators, Snape was willing to give the brat a quick squeeze in return. "Yes, yes, all right," he said gruffly. "Foolish child, you have said that a hundred times already."
"But this is the best day in my whole life!" Harry argued, looking up at him. "An' it's all 'cause of you."
Snape fought back the lump in his throat. "Idiot. Do you not realize that you are the responsible party? Had you not behaved properly for the last several weeks, I assure you you would have found nothing but a few lumps of coal under the tree this morning, or perhaps a switch to be used on naughty children's backsides."
Even Harry wasn't fooled by the dire threat, and he just snickered as he burrowed his head deeper into his da's chest.
Snape blamed that pointy little forehead for the sharp pain in his chest that threatened to take away his breath. He found that bending forward helped - the fact that this made it seem that he was hugging the little brat was unfortunate, but couldn't be helped. Obviously he needed to do what he could to improve the sensation. He found his face buried in that unruly mop of hair, its strands tickling his nose. He had no choice but to do his best to force his face back and pressing his lips against the brat's scalp did seem to help.
Harry sighed in bliss as his da gave him a big hug and even a quick kiss on the head. He had never thought he'd receive such treatment, yet here he was - a big boy of eleven! - getting cuddled and fussed over. He squirmed closer. His da was even careful only to get mushy after the others had left. Harry wouldn't have wanted Professor McGonagall to see him getting snuggled like a four year old... though he wouldn't have given this experience up for all the chocolate frogs in Honeyduke's.
At long last, the feeling in Snape's chest eased enough for him to be able to release the boy. He clucked impatiently at the boy's wet cheeks and glowing eyes, and accio'd a handkerchief to mop up the brat. Honestly! These happy tears were extremely annoying... though he did feel a few tickles at the back of his own sinuses. Perhaps he was getting a cold. Yes. That must be it. The children were constantly brimming over with germs - it was a cold, nothing more.
"Oh!" Harry's eyes widened and he abruptly wiggled free of his guardian's grip. "I almost forgot!" He dashed into his bedroom, leaving Snape frowning after him. Such an impossible child! Always rushing hither and yon.
Harry hurried back into the room and stood before Snape, fidgeting nervously.
"Yes?" The Potion Master raised an inquiring eyebrow. The brat looked as if he were about to confess to some misdeed, biting his lip anxiously and with his hands out of sight behind him - protecting his backside from an imminent swat?
"I - I -"
"YES?" Snape's patience was rapidly running out.
"Erm, I - uh - thisisforyou," Harry blurted, abruptly thrusting a scroll, cheerfully bound with a brightly colored ribbon, at him.
As unusual as this morning had been, the notion that the brat had gotten him a present was still enough to rock Snape backwards, and he was very glad he was already seated. "This is for me? From you?" he asked blankly.
Harry nodded, blushing furiously and staring at the ground. "You'll prob'ly just think it's stupid an' all."
"Hmmmm." Snape eyed the scroll. Had Harry been more like his father or godfather, he would have suspected some stupid prank like the old "exploding scroll" gag, but he knew the boy well enough to know that such a thing would never have occurred to Harry. He forced back his surprise and pulled at the ribbon, little knowing that he was about to endure the greatest shock of the day.
He unrolled the scrolls and raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. The brat's gift to him was a surprisingly good if amateurish drawing of him, complemented by an essay titled "My Da". He glanced over to where Harry was still fiercely examining the floor then began to read.
My Da, Harry wrote, isn't like other kids' fathers. My Da chose me after I asked him to. My Da is a Potion Master, which means he's really, really smart. He's also Head of Slytherin House, which means he's really, really sneaky too тАУ but in a good way. He takes care of all the kids in his House as well as taking care of me. He was a spy in the war against Voldemold, and he was so smart they never figured out that he was spying on them. He was the one who knew my parents had to go into hiding, and he tried his best to protect them, even if he didn't like my dad very much, but he was really good friends with my mum. But that's my Da тАУ he does the Right Thing, even if he doesn't want to. He saved my godfather for me too, but that's a big secret so I won't write how. But he did it just for me, and not because he likes my godfather, because he doesn't really. But he still did it. And he makes potions for everyone who needs them, like Remus and Madame Pomfrey. He makes extra potions for me too, to help me grow taller and stuff. Sometimes I wish he weren't a Potion Master because the potions taste awful!
My Da takes really good care of me. He has his whole House looking out for me, and if anyone tries to hurt me, he gets rid of them. He's really strong and powerful. Those Ravenclaw boys were too scared to stay at school when he was mad at them! He lets me stand up for myself too. I don't have to just sit there and let people like Dudley hit me anymore. My Da told me that if I ever see Dudley again and he tries to punch me, I can hex him all I want! He says I could even hex Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia тАУ but I don't know if I could really do that. I would probably just let my Da do them.
A lot of people are scared of my Da. I think that's because he's really tall and dresses in black and he glares in a really scary way. But he doesn't yell or throw stuff. Even when he's mad, he still talks really low and uses big words, so you can tell that he's not out of control or anything. He knows how to use words really well and he knows a lot of really big words so you have to think about what he says before you actually understand it. And sometimes you don't even realize that he just called you dumb or something, which is pretty funny if you think about it.