Christmas Gift for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
isisanubis
Jan. 1st, 2011 11:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
starduchessTitle: Yes, Harry, There Is a Santa Claus
Author:starduchess
Gift for:isisanubis
Pairing: Severus/Harry
Rating: G
Word Count: ~1200
Prompts: romance, peppermint hot chocolate
Warnings: pre-slash
Notes: What started as a quick drabble rapidly became a ficlet! I hope you enjoy this, dear!
Harry answered his door to find the expected dark shape of Severus Snape looming like a crow.
The dour man had looked worse for wear at the Final Battle earlier in the year, but his appearance had only mildly improved. There was a little more weight on him now and his colour was less pale--a light apricot with olive undertones--but his hair was still greasy and the horrible gash at his throat could be seen above the collar. And, of course, he still wore all black.
“I received your invitation and hoped to intrude on your time this evening,” Snape rasped, his voice scratchy as a result from the poisoned bite.
Harry wasn’t sure how the man could be intruding when Harry himself had invited him, but he shrugged it off and greeted him warmly. “Yes, thanks. Please come in.” He stepped back out of the way and then closed the door after Snape had stepped inside. “I’m really glad you came by.”
Snape gazed at him solemnly. “You have been instrumental in championing my cause in front of the Wizengamot, not to mention freeing me from the Dark Lord’s grasp, so I would be rude and ungrateful to refuse.”
“Brilliant,” Harry stated, smiling a little. He rubbed his palms on his slacks--he had been dressing-up nightly for just such an occasion--and gestured to the left. “I thought we could use the foyer. Kreacher and I decorated it for Christmas. I’d love it if you joined me for a drink.”
Snape nodded once and began walking beside Harry. “For the record, the Healers at St. Mungo’s have forbidden me the consumption of any spirits, no matter how weak, until the lacerations are completely treated and my larynx fully mended, which may be another year.”
“That long, really?”
“Quite.”
They entered the parlour, lush with garland and holly berries, faerie lights and a glowing fire. Two high-backed lounge chairs sat opposite each other with an oval coffee table in between and a love seat across from the hearth. Harry invited Snape to take one of the chairs.
“Well, no worries about the alcohol; we’re having hot chocolate, instead. It’s my own blend.”
Snape stilled in his reclining movement. “You are daft at potions, Potter, and you expect me to partake of a culinary concoction of your own making? I think not.” He made to get up.
“You prat,” Harry stopped him. “Have you forgotten I had to cook for my relatives as a kid? If everything wasn’t perfect, I was denied food for a day. Sometimes two. I learned pretty early on how to prepare things well.”
Snape backed down physically, but he still looked sceptical. “If that were true, then what happened in my potions classroom?”
“Your over-bearing presence, I suspect,” Harry returned. He sighed and ran his hand through that untamable mess of hair. “Look. Please, stay and try it. I want to make things up to you.” Harry pleaded softly with his eyes.
Snape huffed in annoyance. “Since I know you are paying for my treatments, I cannot in all good conscience decline your offer. As you wish.”
“Good. Kreacher!”
At his beckoning, the elderly house-elf popped in with two steaming mugs of cocoa and presented the tray to both wizards. Harry watched as Snape took his and sniffed at it.
One eyebrow went up.
“Peppermint, Mr. Potter?”
“It’s my favourite. Perfect for Yule.”
“Agreed,” responded Snape. In a surprise semblance of camaraderie, he continued, “My mother used to bake gingerbread men with bits of crushed peppermint canes as the decorations. It was my favourite part of the festivities.”
Snape raised the ceramic to his mouth. His lips formed a small pucker, and he gently blew over the top. There was some sort of sensual quality to the act that mesmerized Harry, and he found himself staring spell-bound at those perfect, though thin, lips.
Snape glanced up to notice Harry staring. “Is something wrong, Mr. Potter?”
The raven-haired youth looked down at his own cup, blushing. “No, just waiting to see if you like it.” He tried to keep the expectation, not to mention embarrassment, out of his voice and felt he was failing.
Snape seemed amused, one corner of his mouth turning upward. He put the vessel to his lips and sipped. His eyes widened slightly in wonderment. “This is … quite superb. Thank you.”
Harry gave a sigh of relief. “Great. Thanks. And you’re welcome.” He fidgeted a little, getting more comfortable around his old professor, and sipped his own drink, letting its warmth relax him.
When he was ready, Harry said, “I have something for you. It’s not a gift per se, but it’s definitely yours.”
Snape looked intrigued. “I was not aware that mere acquaintances were in the custom of exchanging frivolous merchandise.”
Smiling a little, Harry countered, “Oh, this isn’t what you’re thinking; you’ll have to wait and see. Besides, I hope we are well on our way to being friends. I’ll just be a second grabbing it.”
Fetching a medium-sized box from a locked cabinet, Harry placed it on the coffee table close to Snape. “Here. These are yours.”
Tentatively, Snape lifted the lid. Inside was a large glass vial containing swirling ribbons of silver. Memories. His memories. “It was not expected of you to return these,” he said quietly.
“No--and you’ll have to forgive the fact that half of the members of the Wizengamot have viewed them--but I wanted to.”
His former Potions professor sat there in silence, black eyes flicking gently over the silver strands, thinking or remembering Harry couldn’t be sure which. After a moment, Snape’s eyes dropped in finalization and then came back up again, landing pointedly on the younger man’s face. Harry gulped, not sure what to expect.
“In light of this largess,” Snape began, “I will return to you an equal gift.”
Harry’s eyes scrunched up in bewilderment, not having the slightest idea what Snape could be referring to. He watched as the other wizard took out a torn piece of paper from an inner pocket.
Slowly, reluctantly, Snape handed over the card.
Harry looked at it. There was his mother smiling and laughing, filled with joy, and occasionally a little black-haired boy riding a toy broom wizzed by in the magical photograph. It was the photograph, he realized a second later. The one Snape had ripped in half and taken the Lily portion of along with Lily’s signature from Grimmauld Place; the one which Harry had the other half of that included himself and his father, now stashed away in his family photo album. Now the photo could be mended and his family made whole again, in memory anyway. Harry’s throat closed up at the sacrificial gesture for he knew how much this cost Snape to give up.
“Thank you,” he said tightly.
“You are welcome ... Harry.”
Something unfroze within him at the sound of his given name, and it dawned on him that this simple gift-giving was what the true spirit of the holidays was all about. Miraculously, the past was forgiven, the present shared, and the future lay unencumbered before them.
--
Author:
starduchess Gift for:
isisanubis Pairing: Severus/Harry
Rating: G
Word Count: ~1200
Prompts: romance, peppermint hot chocolate
Warnings: pre-slash
Notes: What started as a quick drabble rapidly became a ficlet! I hope you enjoy this, dear!
Harry answered his door to find the expected dark shape of Severus Snape looming like a crow.
The dour man had looked worse for wear at the Final Battle earlier in the year, but his appearance had only mildly improved. There was a little more weight on him now and his colour was less pale--a light apricot with olive undertones--but his hair was still greasy and the horrible gash at his throat could be seen above the collar. And, of course, he still wore all black.
“I received your invitation and hoped to intrude on your time this evening,” Snape rasped, his voice scratchy as a result from the poisoned bite.
Harry wasn’t sure how the man could be intruding when Harry himself had invited him, but he shrugged it off and greeted him warmly. “Yes, thanks. Please come in.” He stepped back out of the way and then closed the door after Snape had stepped inside. “I’m really glad you came by.”
Snape gazed at him solemnly. “You have been instrumental in championing my cause in front of the Wizengamot, not to mention freeing me from the Dark Lord’s grasp, so I would be rude and ungrateful to refuse.”
“Brilliant,” Harry stated, smiling a little. He rubbed his palms on his slacks--he had been dressing-up nightly for just such an occasion--and gestured to the left. “I thought we could use the foyer. Kreacher and I decorated it for Christmas. I’d love it if you joined me for a drink.”
Snape nodded once and began walking beside Harry. “For the record, the Healers at St. Mungo’s have forbidden me the consumption of any spirits, no matter how weak, until the lacerations are completely treated and my larynx fully mended, which may be another year.”
“That long, really?”
“Quite.”
They entered the parlour, lush with garland and holly berries, faerie lights and a glowing fire. Two high-backed lounge chairs sat opposite each other with an oval coffee table in between and a love seat across from the hearth. Harry invited Snape to take one of the chairs.
“Well, no worries about the alcohol; we’re having hot chocolate, instead. It’s my own blend.”
Snape stilled in his reclining movement. “You are daft at potions, Potter, and you expect me to partake of a culinary concoction of your own making? I think not.” He made to get up.
“You prat,” Harry stopped him. “Have you forgotten I had to cook for my relatives as a kid? If everything wasn’t perfect, I was denied food for a day. Sometimes two. I learned pretty early on how to prepare things well.”
Snape backed down physically, but he still looked sceptical. “If that were true, then what happened in my potions classroom?”
“Your over-bearing presence, I suspect,” Harry returned. He sighed and ran his hand through that untamable mess of hair. “Look. Please, stay and try it. I want to make things up to you.” Harry pleaded softly with his eyes.
Snape huffed in annoyance. “Since I know you are paying for my treatments, I cannot in all good conscience decline your offer. As you wish.”
“Good. Kreacher!”
At his beckoning, the elderly house-elf popped in with two steaming mugs of cocoa and presented the tray to both wizards. Harry watched as Snape took his and sniffed at it.
One eyebrow went up.
“Peppermint, Mr. Potter?”
“It’s my favourite. Perfect for Yule.”
“Agreed,” responded Snape. In a surprise semblance of camaraderie, he continued, “My mother used to bake gingerbread men with bits of crushed peppermint canes as the decorations. It was my favourite part of the festivities.”
Snape raised the ceramic to his mouth. His lips formed a small pucker, and he gently blew over the top. There was some sort of sensual quality to the act that mesmerized Harry, and he found himself staring spell-bound at those perfect, though thin, lips.
Snape glanced up to notice Harry staring. “Is something wrong, Mr. Potter?”
The raven-haired youth looked down at his own cup, blushing. “No, just waiting to see if you like it.” He tried to keep the expectation, not to mention embarrassment, out of his voice and felt he was failing.
Snape seemed amused, one corner of his mouth turning upward. He put the vessel to his lips and sipped. His eyes widened slightly in wonderment. “This is … quite superb. Thank you.”
Harry gave a sigh of relief. “Great. Thanks. And you’re welcome.” He fidgeted a little, getting more comfortable around his old professor, and sipped his own drink, letting its warmth relax him.
When he was ready, Harry said, “I have something for you. It’s not a gift per se, but it’s definitely yours.”
Snape looked intrigued. “I was not aware that mere acquaintances were in the custom of exchanging frivolous merchandise.”
Smiling a little, Harry countered, “Oh, this isn’t what you’re thinking; you’ll have to wait and see. Besides, I hope we are well on our way to being friends. I’ll just be a second grabbing it.”
Fetching a medium-sized box from a locked cabinet, Harry placed it on the coffee table close to Snape. “Here. These are yours.”
Tentatively, Snape lifted the lid. Inside was a large glass vial containing swirling ribbons of silver. Memories. His memories. “It was not expected of you to return these,” he said quietly.
“No--and you’ll have to forgive the fact that half of the members of the Wizengamot have viewed them--but I wanted to.”
His former Potions professor sat there in silence, black eyes flicking gently over the silver strands, thinking or remembering Harry couldn’t be sure which. After a moment, Snape’s eyes dropped in finalization and then came back up again, landing pointedly on the younger man’s face. Harry gulped, not sure what to expect.
“In light of this largess,” Snape began, “I will return to you an equal gift.”
Harry’s eyes scrunched up in bewilderment, not having the slightest idea what Snape could be referring to. He watched as the other wizard took out a torn piece of paper from an inner pocket.
Slowly, reluctantly, Snape handed over the card.
Harry looked at it. There was his mother smiling and laughing, filled with joy, and occasionally a little black-haired boy riding a toy broom wizzed by in the magical photograph. It was the photograph, he realized a second later. The one Snape had ripped in half and taken the Lily portion of along with Lily’s signature from Grimmauld Place; the one which Harry had the other half of that included himself and his father, now stashed away in his family photo album. Now the photo could be mended and his family made whole again, in memory anyway. Harry’s throat closed up at the sacrificial gesture for he knew how much this cost Snape to give up.
“Thank you,” he said tightly.
“You are welcome ... Harry.”
Something unfroze within him at the sound of his given name, and it dawned on him that this simple gift-giving was what the true spirit of the holidays was all about. Miraculously, the past was forgiven, the present shared, and the future lay unencumbered before them.
--