Severus Evans and the Impudent Brat: Chapter Nine
Year One: Severus Evans and the Impudent Brat

Chapter 9: Best Wishes at Christmas



"Presents!"

"Well, of course Harry," Severus called from his bed. "It's Christmas morning."

"Can I open them?"

"Give me a minute." Severus groped for his dressing gown. He wrapped it around himself, tied the belt neatly, and ran a hand through his hair, blinking. "Merry Christmas, Harry," he said, emerging into the sitting room.

"Merry Christmas, Professor." Harry grinned up at him. "Can I open them now?"

Severus nodded towards the sofa. "Bring them over here." He watched as Harry stacked the gifts and, carefully, carried them to the sofa, where he set them upon the center cushion. Harry sat at one end, and Severus settled into the other.

"Go ahead," Severus told Harry.

But Harry was too busy scrutinizing him to pay heed to his presents. "You look like a normal person," he said.

Severus laughed. "What do you expect me to look like? Of course I'm a--well, a person. I'm not sure if normal applies."

Now why was the boy staring at him so, as if he'd seen the Thousand Wonders of the Wizarding World?

"Go on." Severus nodded. "Thought you wanted to open your presents?"

"I do." Harry quickly turned his attention to the packages before him, as if afraid they might suddenly be taken away if he didn't. His hands hovered, finally settling on a gift. He picked it up, looked again at Severus, and said, "You're always so natty."

"Nobody's natty right after rolling out of bed," Severus muttered, shaking his head. "I will eventually remedy that state of affairs--if and when you ever get round to opening your gifts."

Thus reminded, Harry tore into the wrap with gusto. "Oh!" He beamed, holding up the book in his hands for a better look. It was a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. "Now I don't have to get it from the library!"

"And, unlike the library's copy, you can take yours out on the grounds, as much as you like. Only please don't lose it."

Harry paged through the book in his hands, savoring each page.

"Here." Severus picked up a larger, flatter package. "I think you'll also enjoy this."

Harry opened it, and another grin spread over his face. "Neat," he said, flipping through the magazine. A card fell out, and he read: "Congratulations! You have been given a one-year subscription to Quidditch Times. A Very Merry Christmas, and Good Reading Throughout the Year, from the Staff at Quidditch Times--and from your father, Professor Evans."

"Will it do?" asked Severus, wondering why he was so damned anxious when the boy was so clearly pleased with the gift. "There were so many to choose from, but I asked around, and this seems to be very popular amongst the fans."

Harry nodded. "Thanks," he said, his eyes glued to the players darting around in the photographs.

Severus leaned back, relaxing. It seemed Christmas enough, in that moment, just to sit and watch Harry pore over his Quidditch magazine.

Eventually, the boy looked up, blinking. "Oh," he said, smiling sheepishly. "I guess I should open the other present."

"I think you'll want to," said Severus.

Harry set aside the magazine and picked up the last gift, the largest one of all. He shook it, eliciting muffled cries of protest. "It's never," he said, his face lighting up as he ripped the paper and revealed a wizard chess set. "How did you know?"

Severus felt his mouth twitch. "An anonymous informant," he said.

"Ron," said Harry.

"Maybe. And, here." Severus reached into the pocket of his dressing gown and pitched a gold coin, which landed right in the boy's hands. "Nice one," he said. "But only as much as I'd expect from a brilliant Seeker."

Harry laughed. "Thanks!"

Severus wasn't certain which had pleased him more, the coin or the compliment.

"Don't spend it all in one place," he said, but he was smiling.


They had a light breakfast, there in the sitting room. After breakfast, Harry bathed and dressed; then, while Harry returned to his Quidditch reading, Severus took his turn in the bath.

Severus was standing before the bathroom mirror, clad in a black T-shirt tucked into black boxers, when Harry walked into the doorway.

"You're not supposed to tuck in your shirt," he said.

Severus continued to lather his chin and throat. "I was not aware that there is one true way to wear undergarments," he said.

"It looks stupid."

Severus shrugged. "If it bothers you, don't look." He picked up his razor, a simple Muggle twin-blade with a black handle, and drew it over his tautened face.

"Can't you use magic?"

"I could," he answered, holding the razor away from his face. "I prefer not to."

"Why?"

"Habit." He resumed shaving. "Ow. Shit. Accio, wand."

"Thought you just said--"

"For grooming." He put the tip of the wand to his face and made short work of the razor's nick. "Healing is another matter."

"You should just grow a beard."

"You should stop talking long enough to let me finish shaving."

Blessedly, the boy shut up just long enough to do just that. But no sooner was the razor put away than the stream of juvenile advice began anew.

"Not black," said Harry as Severus reached for his robes. "Wear the green ones."

Severus shot him a dark look. "The green ones are for Quidditch matches," he said in a barely-controlled undertone, wondering where all of his warm Christmas sentiments had fled.

"Come on," said Harry. "Put on a bit of cheer."

"Been talking to Professor Dumbledore, have you?"

"He thinks you're too gloomy."

"Does he." Severus slipped the black robes over his head.

"He's right."

"Harry Severus, should I require the services of a fashion consultant, I will let you know. Meanwhile--"

There was a knock at the door.

"Get the door, Harry."

"Yes, sir."

Severus snorted. He smoothed his robes and ran a comb through his hair.

"Hey, Ron! Come on in! My--the Professor's just getting dressed. Look what I got for Christmas!"

"Here, you've got more! This one's from Hagrid, this one's Hermione, this one doesn't say--oh, no."

"What?"

"My mum. It's a Weasley jumper, bet you anything."

"So? What's wrong with--hey, and fudge!"

Severus stepped out into the sitting room. "Only a taste," he admonished.

Harry wrinkled his nose, but broke off only a small piece, setting the rest of the fudge to one side.

"Merry Christmas, Professor Evans," said Ron.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Weasley." Severus nodded towards the jumper. "Didn't you tell your mother that Harry failed to get sorted into Slytherin?"

"I think she picked green to go with his eyes."

"He's kidding," Harry told Ron. "Don't mind him."

"You certainly don't," Severus rejoined. "Why should anyone else?"

"Look, Professor." Harry blew a hand-carved wooden flute. "Hagrid made it."

"Very nice."

"And Chocolate Frogs from Hermione--for after dinner. I know."

Severus suppressed a smirk.

"And--" Harry picked up the last parcel. "More clothing," he declared, and unwrapped it.

"Wow." Ron stared, his eyes round, as silver-gray cloth slithered out of Harry's grasp and pooled on the floor. "If that's--who's it from?"

Harry picked up a note that had fallen out of the folds of fabric. "Doesn't say," he told Ron. "A treasure, abandoned, now handed on to you. Use it well. A very Merry Christmas. That's it." He shrugged and picked up the cloth, held it in front of him, then wrapped it around his shoulders.

"It is! Harry, it's an invisibility cloak! Go have a look."

Harry's head, floating above where the cloak had covered him, darted into the bath.

"Professor?" asked Ron, frowning at him quizzically.

"Don't look at me, Mr. Weasley. I couldn't begin to afford--"

"NEAT!"

Harry ran back into the sitting room, grinning. "Now you see me--" He pulled the cloak over his head. "Now you don't!"

"Have a care with that little toy of yours, Harry," said Severus. "The first time I hear of its misuse, consider it confiscated."

Harry's head reappeared. "Did you--?"

Severus shook his head. "I have an idea, but I can't really say. But I suggest you put it away and not make it widely known that such a treasure has come into your possession. As Mr. Weasley can tell you, invisibility cloaks are rather rare, and extremely expensive."

"Wow." It slipped out, barely a breath. Harry removed the cloak and folded it almost reverently, tucking it under the Christmas tree. He turned and looked at all his other treasures, scattered over the sofa and the floor. "Wow," he said again. "This has been the best Christmas."

"It's not done, yet." Severus retreated into his room, returning shortly with another flat package. "I forgot I'd put this away," he said, handing the package to Harry. "From Remus. Your godfather."

"Another book," said Harry. He tore off the wrapper and read out loud, "The Fairly Incomplete and Rather Badly Illustrated Monty Python Songbook."

"Dear God," sighed Severus, rolling his eyes.

"What?" asked Harry, frowning.

"Nothing." Severus went back into the bedroom to get a pair of socks. As he debated whether to change into the green robes, after all, he heard Harry and Ron giggling in the background. He shook his head, pulling on his boots.

"Sixteen famous testicles," whispered Harry, eliciting more laughter.

In three steps Severus was hovering over the boys and staring at the open book. A second later, his wand was out and he was roaring:

"Expecto Patronum!"

"Neat!"

"Brilliant!"

A few minutes later came the response of the silver wolf: "It is age-appropriate. Come on, Sev, grow a sense of humor."

"Expecto Patronum!"

"Does Harry like it?"

"Expecto Patronum!"

"Yes, Severus, that is the point. Now cool that hot little head of yours and go have a Merry Christmas with your son."

Severus stood, silently glowering. Finally, with a last summoning of his Patronus, he sent Remus a grudging wish for a Merry Christmas; then he turned to the boys, who were watching him in awe. Harry was clearly waiting for an explanation. He wasn't particularly inclined to give him one.

"Come along, then," he said, giving a clipped nod towards the door.


Christmas dinner was grand, as always. Harry ate a double portion of everything on the table. Severus, sitting with Harry at the Gryffindor table, contented himself with a more reasonably laden plate. At Harry's insistence, he put on a stupid top hat that exploded out of one of their Christmas crackers. At least the hat was black, and not nearly as absurd as the flowered bonnet Dumbledore gaily donned at the High Table.

After dinner, Severus watched from a window as Harry and the Weasley boys flung snowballs at each other. He felt sorry for Percy, the only one of the Weasleys he found reasonably agreeable; his brothers ganged up on him without mercy, and Harry, damn the boy, seemed more than willing to join in their taunts. He would have to speak of the matter with Harry, sometime soon. Poor Percy really ought to have been in Ravenclaw, where his gifts would have been far better appreciated than in dunderheaded Gryffindor. Lily's house or no, they really did prize brawn more than brains--a valuation Severus simply could not comprehend.

Still, Harry did have friends, true friends. Idiot friends, perhaps, although the Granger girl--another loss to Ravenclaw--had impressed Severus: In the space of three evenings, she had thoroughly grasped the fundamental mechanics of curses and countercurses. Of course he couldn't tell her how impressed he had been, not this early in her education, but he felt a little less anxious knowing that Harry had so capable an ally in his company.

True friends. Yet, had Harry been sorted into Slytherin, they very likely would not have given Harry the time of day.

Slytherin.

Slytherin the disparaged. Slytherin the despised. Slytherin, the most vulnerable of them all.

Despite its reputation as the house of pureblood pride and power, pampered prats like Draco Malfoy were the exception, not the rule. Severus often wondered if the Sorting Hat used Slytherin as a discard bin for the ones no other house would receive. Ambition and cunning, his arse. From his present vantage point, Slytherin House looked like nothing so much as a motley lot of misfits, a ragtag bundle of aspirations for someday finding acceptance in the world.

The lost children. The lonely children. The children who in their clumsy efforts to belong only set themselves further apart. The ones who did not know how to fit in because they never had been given a place. The ones who, when offered a place, lacked the ability to discern whether it was a place worth taking. The ones who, hungry to have any place, any welcome that might come their way, did not even attempt to discern.

For ten years they had been his children, his other children, the ones within his reach. He did not always know what to do, but he always tried to understand.

That had to count for something.


Laughing and stamping their feet, Harry and his friends came stumbling into the castle.

"Oi! Professor!" called out one of the twins. "You should've joined us."

"Maybe next time," said Severus, smiling slightly.

"Hell froze over! Evans smiled!" exclaimed the other twin.

"And a Merry Christmas to you too, Mr. Weasley."

"Come on, Professor." Harry, greatly relaxed and in high spirits, actually grabbed Severus by the arm and began to pull. "We're going up to the common room to break in my new chess set."

"Oh, no, Harry. You go ahead--"

"Come on, Professor." Harry tugged so hard, he damned near knocked Severus off his feet. "It's Christmas. Nobody cares."

"It appears I don't have a choice," Severus wryly conceded.

"It's Christmas," repeated Harry. "Slytherin green and Gryffindor red, and all that."

So Severus found himself visiting the Gryffindor common room, where he drifted about, remembering, while Harry and Ron set up their chess game in front of the fireplace.

"I haven't been here in so long," he mused.

"How long?" asked Harry, predictably.

Severus glanced over at the boy. "Since my last year of school."

"Wow. The Dark Ages."

"Hardly." Severus continued to pace the room, thinking back to Christmas of seventh year, when both he and Lily had stayed at Hogwarts over the holidays...

"That's the girls' dormitories," called out one of the Weasleys.

"I know." It was all he could do to hold back a smirk. He glanced over at the boys; Percy alone was looking at him a little too perceptively. The others blithely went on setting up the chess game.

Severus settled himself into an armchair, not too close to the chess game. While Harry and Ron began to make their first moves--with what promised to be much prompting of Harry by Percy--Severus folded his hands on his stomach and leaned back and closed his eyes.


Lily had been the only one in Gryffindor, that year, to stay for Christmas. They spent the afternoon, after Christmas dinner, sitting together in front of the fireplace. Lily kept admiring the ring that Severus had finally been able to buy for her. A pitiful excuse for an engagement ring, he thought, the diamond chip barely visible to the naked eye, but it had been the best he could do. And Lily did not seem to mind.

After a light supper of leftover turkey and Christmas cake, they returned to the Gryffindor rooms, he and Lily, where they curled drowsily in front of the fireplace for an hour or so before Lily took him by the hand and led him up the stairs of the girls' dormitories.

Sleeping, for the first time, an entire night with Lily at his side. And awakening, in the morning light, to look into Lily's eyes...


"Ssshhh. He's sleeping."

"No, he's not. Look at that smile."

Severus cracked open one eye. "Smiling in my sleep," he suggested. "Having pleasant dreams, until I was so rudely awakened."

"Sorry, Professor."

"How goes the game?"

"Um."

"I beat him," said Ron Weasley. "But he'll get better. With practice."


All in all, thought Severus, lying in his bed, it had been a happy Christmas. And on that thought he drifted into a deep, peaceful slumber--only to be rudely awakened by a summons from Filch.

"What the bloody hell is it?" snarled Severus, glaring at the caretaker.

"You told me to tell you if anyone was wandering about after hours," he said. "Someone's in the library, or was. Restricted Section."

Severus snapped awake. "They can't have gone far," he said. He searched the corridors, checked the library, looked into several rooms and behind suits of armor.

"Well, there's nobody here, now," he grumbled. "And it appears nothing was taken. Merry Christmas." He headed back to his rooms and sank back into sleep.


Harry dropped by next day for a game of chess. He was distracted, kept looking oddly at Severus, and at the pictures on the mantel, and finally Severus gave up and told him to put the game away till he was ready to keep his mind on it.

"Sorry, Professor," he mumbled.

"Come along." Severus got up and wrapped himself in a long wool coat, throwing his cloak over it. "Let's go for a walk. We could both do with a bit of fresh air."


Fresh air did little, it seemed, to clear Harry's mind. The boy walked as if in a daze, and Severus began to be concerned. He asked if Harry would like to spend the night in his sitting room, but Harry said no, no thank you, Professor, as if speaking from far away. Morning came, and Harry still walked about, as if in a trance. The boy didn't seem to be under a spell, merely preoccupied.

There was nothing Severus could do, for the moment, but watch, and wait.


Severus sat on an old desk by the wall, watching. He had waited perhaps a half hour when the door opened, seemingly of its own accord, and closed slowly and silently again. Only the slightest pad of slippered feet told him that he was no longer alone.

He waited.

There was no sound of recognition, nothing to indicate that he had yet been seen. Severus watched as Harry gradually emerged, head to toe, out of thin air, a pool of silver at his feet. The boy was staring, entranced, into a long mirror.

"Professor Dumbledore told me I might find you here."

Harry jumped, looked directly at Severus, terrified.

"Calm down, boy." Severus spoke smoothly, all the while planning new forms of death by slow torture for Vernon Dursley. "Calm down. I'm here to talk, not to attack."

Harry relaxed visibly, and turned back to the mirror. "Have you seen it? Seen what it shows?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the visions before him.

"I am, indeed, acquainted with the Mirror of Erised. Too well acquainted, perhaps." Severus slid off the desk and walked over to stand behind Harry. "What does it show you?"

"You. Me. Mum." His voice caught. "All of us. Together."

Severus rested one hand on the boy's shoulder. "Your heart's deepest desire," he murmured. "That which you want more than anything in the world. Not what is, nor what will be, but what you wish would be."

"Do you see it?" whispered Harry. "We're happy. You're happy."

"I'm happy now, Harry."

Still, even as he said it, Severus felt the pull of the other vision, an enticing vision that, after all these years, still held tenancy in his heart.

"Come along, now." He gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze, gently turning them both away from the Mirror. "We need to build our happiness on what we've got, not on what might have been."

He bent to pick up the shimmering cloak and handed it back to Harry. "As I've said before, have a care how you use this. There will be no reason for you to use it to return here: The Mirror will be moved tomorrow."


They walked back together to the Gryffindor rooms.

"And what are you doing about at this hour?" huffed the Fat Lady at Harry.

"Oh, put a sock in it," Severus quietly snapped. "It's the holidays. I guess he can spend a bit of time with his old dad, if he wants." He turned to Harry. "Well. Off to bed with you."

Harry hesitated, looked to the waiting Fat Lady, then looked back up at Severus. "Are you really happy, now?" he asked.

Severus gazed directly into the boy's eyes. "Yes."

Harry smiled. "I'm glad," he whispered. He whirled about and was through the portrait before Severus could say as much as good night.