[Part One] The Twelve Pains of Christmas. Snape/Harry. PG-13
Title: The Twelve Pains of Christmas
Author: faynia
Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Word Count: 16, 284
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What's there not to love about taking care of Malfoy's child during the holidays?
A/N: Written during Christmas '06. Originally posted here @ snarry_slash.
The first thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me: Is finding a Christmas tree.
“Why am I out here again?”
Geoffrey picked up a large, twisted stick with his mittened hand and tossed it deeper into the woods. Harry ruffled the little boy’s bleach blond hair and grinned over at Snape, whose scowl was deeper than ever. They all ducked beneath a low hanging branch that was heavily laden with snow.
“Potter…” Snape growled threateningly as Harry reached up for the branch. Harry chuckled and grasped Geoffrey’s outstretched hand instead.
“Don’t tell me you aren’t having fun, Severus,” Harry teased, dodging as the older man took a swipe at the back of his head.
“Does it look like I’m ‘having fun’?” Snape groused, hugging his winter cloak tighter around his body. Geoffrey giggled and started bouncing up and down as they walked. Harry laughed, ignoring Snape’s surly expression.
“I don’t know, Geoff. Does it look like Uncle Sev is having fun?”
Geoffrey wrinkled his nose, gripped Harry’s hand with both of his black mittened ones, and shook his head wildly. Bits of wet snow flew off his hair. “No.”
“I didn’t think so.” Snape huffed and rolled his eyes, which only made Harry’s smile grow. “We need to fix this. What do you think, Geoff?”
“Yeah!” The five-year-old agreed enthusiastically. Harry’s eyes flicked from the Malfoy child’s upturned face to that of Snape’s. He wasn’t even going to bother to describe the differences in demeanor, only that it looked like someone had “accidentally” dropped wormwood into one of his potions and it was about to explode.
Harry crouched down in the snow so he was eye-level with the boy and idly adjusted Geoffrey’s scarf, all the while whispering softly so Snape couldn’t hear him.
Snape stared at them suspiciously unable to shake the feeling of foreboding that came suddenly with the eager expression on his godson’s child’s face. Potter, he snarled mentally. Whatever the whelp was telling the five-year-old, it would not be good for him and sure enough the moment Potter straightened up Geoffrey stomped over to him with a pleased expression. He raised an eyebrow, noticing the boy was hiding his hands behind his back.
“Uncle Sev?”
“What is it, Geoffrey?” he asked, mustering every last reserve of patience he had. “What do you have there?”
Geoffrey grinned and with exaggerated slowness revealed his empty palms. Snape’s eyebrow’s flew up his forehead, and before he knew what was happening, something cold, wet and entirely unpleasant was stuffed down the back of his robes. He hissed slowly, his eyes widening in anger while chills raced down his back as the snow made its way down his spine.
“Potter,” Snape snarled, turning around, ignoring Geoffrey’s giggle fit. Harry was standing there with red hands from holding the snow looking as innocent as a lamb.
“Yes, Severus?”
Damn brat, Snape thought angrily, shrugging his shoulders in a hope to make the snow move or melt faster. Either would do. They stayed like that, one with an irritated scowl on his lips, the other smiling genially.
“UNCLE HARRY!”
Harry looked away first and winked before heading off to where his “nephew” was standing. “What did you find, Geoff?”
Geoffrey pointed as best as mittens allow into the forest. Harry followed where Malfoy’s son was pointing, and his look of confusion melted into one of relief. He gave the five-year-old a one armed hug.
“He found a tree,” Harry called over his shoulder as he and the little blond tramped through the thin layer of snow on the ground.
“About bloody time,” Snape grunted, pulling his wand out of his trouser pocket. He just wanted this blasted trip out of the way and forgotten. How Potter had roped him into this one, he would never know.
The Second thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me: Rigging up these lights
Harry held the ladder still as Snape slowly climbed the rickety steps to the top. Snow from the bottom of Snape’s boots fell in Harry’s eyes as he watched the older man’s ascent. To be honest, Harry was having a hard time not laughing at the greasy bastard. Snape’s behavior was something to be mocked about for the next few weeks. After all, how was Harry supposed to have known Snape had a fear of heights?
“Potter, stop moving about and hold the ladder still.”
Harry choked back his laughter at the sharp, panicky command. “I’m not moving at all. Perhaps you’re imagining it?”
The ladder shuddered as Snape leaned to the side and suddenly long, yellowed fingers were clinging the shingles of the roof with such intensity Harry could see the man’s knuckles going white.
“This, Potter, is by far the single most asinine thing you’ve ever insisted I do.”
“I never said you had to put them up,” Harry pointed out helpfully, his own grip on the ladder tightening. He watched as Snape turned to look down at him, his long, stringy black hair falling in front of his face. “And don’t look down!” Harry shouted. On later reflection, he would realize he had never seen Snape go quite that shade of gray before.
Harry tensed, waiting for Snape to blow up at him but nothing happened.
“You all right up there?” Harry asked, finally allowing worry to creep into his tone.
Shallow breathing was all Harry heard. If this had been any other day or any other endeavor he might have teased the man for being so childish about the entire thing, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t, not with Snape more than 20 feet in the air. He fervently wished he could ignore the way the ladder was vibrating in his hands because if anything it was making him nervous. And he was on the sodding ground!
“Uncle Harry?”
Harry startled and wrenched his worried gaze from Snape’s back to look down at the little boy. Cautious, worried black eyes stared back up at him and for a moment Harry wondered if Geoffrey hadn’t done something bad inside the house while he and Snape had been out in the snow playing with Christmas lights.
“What’s wrong, Geoffrey?” Harry asked, and then, with a start, realized why the picture of the boy before him was so odd. “And why aren’t you wearing your boots?!”
Geoffrey shrugged seemingly unconcerned with the state of his soggy silver and green striped socks and numb toes. Harry’s face drained of color, and he felt torn. Half of him wanted to chase Geoffrey indoors, while the other wanted him to stay just where he was so Snape’s worst fears weren’t confirmed, and he’d find himself flat on his back on the unforgiving ground.
“Geoffrey,” Harry sighed. He glanced up at Snape again just to make sure he wasn’t going to suddenly fall or something equally unpleasant. “Go put them on please.”
“I don’t wanna,” Geoffrey said glumly.
Harry sighed again. “Geoffrey.”
“NO! You…you can’ tell me what to do! You’re not my daddy, Uncle Harry!”
“GEOFFREY LIAM MALFOY!”
Even Harry jumped at the roar from the top of the ladder; he had almost forgotten that roar still existed. He hadn't been on its receiving end for many, many months.
“I'm sorry, Uncle Sev’rus!” Geoffrey cried and ran into the house. Harry winced when the door slammed shut, sending snow off the roof and onto the ground. Harry cast a worried look up at Snape to see the greasy haired man was now glowering at him.
“It’s not my fault,” said Harry before he could curb his tongue.
“I know that you imbecile,” Snape snarled, and Harry had the good grace to look ashamed. He barely heard the sigh before the next cold, but less angry, statement, “I’m coming down the ladder.”
Harry nodded and held the ladder steady as Snape came storming down the metal contraption. Harry flinched as Snape brushed past him and stomped towards the house.
“Severus,” Harry called softly, letting go of the ladder reluctantly.
“What is it, Potter?” Harry looked up and wondered if it was a good or bad thing that Snape wasn’t facing him. Snape’s tone had betrayed nothing of what he was thinking.
“It’s not my fault,” he repeated, this time with a bit of heat behind it.
Snape reluctantly turned around and Harry pursed his lips. “What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t have to string up the lights.”
“You nitwit. Of course I had to.” Snape’s snort actually formed a cloud of white fog in front of him. Harry hadn’t really been consciously aware of how cold it was, but that could also mean he was numb to it. Snape had his arms folded across his chest in an unamused fashion.
Harry arched a brow in a fair imitation of the man in front of him. “No. I said I would, but you insisted on doing them. Hell, I didn’t even know you had a fear of heights, and yet, you insisted on putting them up yourself.”
“You never would have done them right,” Snape derided and, without giving Harry a chance to do anything but gape at the man in righteous indignation, he turned with a flare and finished stomping into the warm house. Harry stared after him in shock, which slowly turned into confusion then even slower as he moved to take down the ladder it became amusement.
Harry chuckled under his breath as he took his wand out of his pocket and began to string up the lights the way he had intended on doing the entire time. He never even knew where Snape got it into his head to do it the Muggle way, and he supposed he never would either.
The third thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me: Hangovers
“You’re a piss poor excuse for a…a…”
Harry snorted into his glass of scotch, watching Snape sway for a moment.
“You’re drunk,” Harry pointed out.
“And you’re not,” Snape returned, looking like he might pitch forward off his armchair. Harry had to wonder if the last two days really had been bad enough to warrant the excessive amount of alcohol going into Snape’s system.
Harry snorted at the attempted leer forming on Snape’s face. “Someone has to make sure Geoffrey doesn’t torch the house tomorrow.”
“Bloody fat lot of good you being sober does in this.”
Harry looked at Snape oddly for a moment and decided not to touch that statement with a very long, extremely pointy stick. Usually he said the odd things while drunk. If Snape suddenly decided that the ceiling was pretty and he should count his socks, then Harry knew he’d have to knock him out, but only to save him the embarrassment of having to recall every last thing the man told him.
“Of course not,” Harry soothed, swirling his drink. He curled his feet under his bottom and lounged against the armrest. A fire crackled in the grate, and a few stray embers spit out onto the hearth. He gazed at them peacefully as they glowed for a few moments before dying. Snape wasn’t making any noise, which either meant he had passed out or was drinking again. Harry turned his head back towards the older man and his eyes widened minutely. It turned out Snape wasn’t doing either of those things, no he was gazing at him with a starved expression that made Harry flush.
“You really are drunk,” Harry said, mirth bubbling up from the pit of his stomach.
“You said so yourself, Potter. Do you really doubt your capability of observation?”
Harry had half a mind to tell him he got that backwards and said it wrong. That he was supposed to make it an insult and not a sly compliment and a stray bit of comfort.
“You are going to be unbearable in the morning, you know this right? I am not going to take care of you this time.”
“What do you mean ‘this time’? There haven’t been any other times.”
Harry snorted and took a deep gulp of his drink, before placing the glass on the side table with a clink. “That you remember,” he whispered, picking up his wand that he had left beside him.
Snape chuckled darkly when Harry aimed his wand at him. With a deep sigh, Harry cast a stunner at the man and watched him slump backwards onto the couch. Harry glanced towards Geoffrey’s closed bedroom door, hoping Snape’s loud voice hadn’t woken up the five-year-old.
He carefully levitated Snape up off the chair and through the hall to his bedroom. As gently as possible, he lowered the inebriated man down onto the bed and tugged the covers out from beneath him. Harry tilted his head to the side with a small smile as he tucked Snape in and pressed a kiss to the man’s brow. There would be hell in the morning.
~*~
“UNCLE SEV!!!!” Geoffrey yelled, racing across the hardwood floors of the house to the kitchen. Harry winced in sympathy as Snape cradled his head in his hands, his long hair falling across his face. No words had passed between the two men that morning because they were unnecessary. A Snape with a hangover was not someone you wanted to trifle with, and Harry had learned that lesson fast. However, Geoffrey was only five and blond, not that it was any excuse, but he didn’t know not to be loud.
Snape growled low in his throat as Geoffrey skidded to a halt, crashing into the table jerking Snape’s elbows out from beneath him.
“Potter, I suggest you take the brat and get it out of my sight.”
Harry didn’t need to be told twice and grasped Geoffrey’s hand and tugged him out of the kitchen. “Come on, Geoff. We need to gather the firewood.”
Geoffrey nodded morosely and held out his arms as Harry put on his jacket. He waited patiently while Harry also helped him with his boots, mittens and hat. It took less time than normal, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder what was on the five-year-old’s mind.
As they exited the house hand in hand, Harry casually asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Uncle Sev’rus hates me doesn’t he?” Geoffrey mumbled, dark eyes downcast.
Harry stopped and turned to face the little boy. “What makes you say that, mate?”
“He yells at me, and calls me names, and-and looks at me like this!” Geoffrey scrunched up his face in what Harry assumed was an actual imitation of one of Snape’s more distasteful looks.
“He doesn’t hate you, Geoffrey.”
“He don’t?”
“No, he doesn’t. He just doesn’t know how to make his emotions known.”
“Oh.”
Harry arched a brow fairly certain the little boy had no idea what he had meant at all, but it didn’t matter because his usual smile was back in place.
The fourth thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me: Sending Christmas cards
“Do you even know half these people, Potter?”
Harry leaned back in the chair and stretched his arms out in front of him, dropping the quill onto the tabletop. He tilted his head backwards, imagining he could hear his neck cricking as he did so. Snape was gazing down at him with an amused expression that only served to make Harry feel more tired.
He shook his head in exhaustion and yawned wildly, not even bothering to cover his mouth. He’d gotten up at dawn with the intent of making out Christmas cards for what seemed like every sodding person in the Wizarding World. It wasn’t like he asked everyone to send him cards either.
Harry stared at the mounting pile beside him with aggravation, already narrowing in on the ones with the more colorful envelopes. He wondered how those people would word their marriage proposals. So far the most creative and threatening one said she would run around naked on boxing day proclaiming that he was a raging homosexual. Not that it wasn't the truth, he thought ruefully.
“You should rest, you know,” Snape advised, resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder before squeezing it gently.
Harry shrugged, making to pick up his quill again before thinking better of it. Instead, he dropped his hand back onto the tabletop. “Why?” The answer came in the form of a rampaging blond who tore into the study with a crazed, albeit giddy, expression. Harry felt the urge to slam his head against the desk but managed to reign it in. After all, everyone already thought he was crazy enough.
“UNCLE HARRY! UNCLE HARRY! UNCLE HARRY! GUESS WHAT? GUESS WHAT?” Geoffrey shouted, practically skipping around the desk. Harry saw the envelope in his hands and looked up at Snape in curiosity. Snape shook his head in exasperation. Well, at least Harry knew why Snape had wanted him to take a break. Being locked up inside the study all morning meant Snape had to take care of Geoffrey, which meant bad news for Harry. He couldn’t be certain if Snape had left his hand on his shoulder by mistake or if it was there to keep him planted in his seat. It wasn’t exactly like he could go anywhere now, not with Geoffrey gazing up at him.
“What?” asked Harry.
Geoffrey beamed up at him, showing off all his tiny baby teeth. “I got a letter!”
“Oh?” Harry held out his hand expectantly, and Geoffrey stuffed the envelope into his outstretched hand. He had a feeling he already knew who it was from just by the handwritten address. “Was it a good one?” he asked distractedly, turning over the envelope in his hands to open it.
“Yup!” Geoffrey chirped. “Uncle Sev’rus had to read it to me though, cause I couldn't.”
Harry glanced up into Geoffrey’s face, noting the brief look of disappointment before it vanished. He pulled out the folded letter and opened it. He scanned over the introduction paragraph before skipping to the signature. There, in flowery writing, said the words “Mama” and “Papa".
“It’s from your parents.”
“Yup!”
Harry sighed and saw that he would get no further answers unless he read the letter himself.
My Darling Baby Geoffrey,
We miss you very much and hope you are not bothering Severus too much. You know how much he hates to have his work interrupted.
Harry snorted into the parchment. A day were Geoffrey didn’t bother Snape would be a blessing. It didn’t seem to take much to set the surly man off during the hols. Perhaps it was a good thing Harry had given up on trying to hide Snape’s stash of liquor, he really didn’t want to think of what might have happened to the child in their care otherwise.
We leave Paris for the Swiss Alps tomorrow, darling, and have been thinking about you constantly. Have you been a good boy? Have you been doing everything Severus has asked of you, including eating your vegetables?
It took little effort for Harry to imagine the look of distaste on Geoffrey’s face at that last sentence. He and Snape had pretty much left well enough alone when it came to the blond and his vegetables. Finding string beans in various places for the better part of week clinched it.
Mama and Papa wish you the best and cannot wait to see you come Christmas. Do not let Severus or Potter scare you, baby. At least Severus means well.
Harry arched a brow at that last sentence noticing a distinct difference in the script. He could only assume that was when Malfoy had taken over to offer his sound advice. So far, he had enjoyed the diplomatic way Pansy had not included him in the letter. It had almost been too much to hope that he would have been left out completely. Ah well. He rustled the parchment a bit as he read the last few lines.
We love you, Geoffrey, and miss you terribly much.
Love,
Your Mama and Papa
If Geoffrey hadn’t been smiling up at him like Christmas had arrived early, Harry would have asked what Pansy had meant by “cannot wait to see you come Christmas.” He had been under the assumption that Geoffrey would be in their care until the New Year. He glanced over his shoulder at Snape, scanning the older man‘s face to see if he had already known. It would be one of those things he would hide from him, knowing how much love was shared between him and Malfoy.
Looking at Geoffrey, Harry found himself wondering how this little boy could be the spawn of Satan and Satan’s bride. While Pansy had never been openly mean to him before, it wasn’t like she had ever been openly friendly with him either. No, the separation of houses and bloodlines had been enough to install a silent animosity. He folded the letter and carefully put it back in its torn envelope and handed it to Geoffrey with a strained smile. Geoffrey didn’t seem to notice, and Harry was suddenly very thankful for the little boy’s inattention.
“You’re thinking too hard.”
“Shut up,” Harry said dismissively, waving a hand in Snape’s general direction.
He noticed that Geoffrey was still standing there beside him, but this time, seemed more puzzled than excited. Harry drummed his fingers once over the tabletop silently willing both of the intruders out of Snape’s study. Well, if he was going to be honest, he silently wished one of the intruders were gone. Really, was it too much to ask for a bit of peace so he could finish signing his name to these dramatically simplified thank you notes and Christmas cards? After all, it had taken him an hour to spell the messages onto appropriate blank cards in the first place. The subtle let down cards were in one pile, the blasé Happy Christmas ones in another, and the fuck off and die ones, which while few and far between, had a sizable pile of their own. All of them were waiting for his name.
He could just as easily charm his name onto each of them, but he felt that perhaps a personal touch would be appropriate. Having raving, sobbing, and apparently naked women at his, and Snape’s, doorstep did not sound like a fun time.
“Uncle Harry, whatcha doin’?” Geoffrey asked, placing his hands-envelope and all-on the desk and pushed himself up on tiptoes to see the contents of the desktop. Harry plucked a card from the “Happy Christmas” pile and handed it to the boy. Geoffrey took it and fell back on his heels as he examined it.
Harry gazed at Geoffrey, considering before taking a blank piece of card paper and folding it in half. He handed it to Geoffrey who took it easily, dropping his letter to the floor.
“You want to make your own?” Harry asked, inclining his head towards the blank card in Geoffrey’s hands. “You can mail it to your mama and papa once you finish it.”
Geoffrey’s eyes lit up brighter than any of the Christmas lights lining the house. “Really?”
Harry nodded and offered Geoffrey a genuine smile, not that the blond had really noticed the difference from his previous one, but Snape seemed to, if the subtle touch to his back indicated anything other than shifting of weight from one foot to the next.
“Yes, now we need to get you something to color with.” He stood up, noting Snape’s amused expression. It sent a thrill of happiness through him. He hoped this meant Snape would actually be in a good mood later, and if there was one set God, Harry would be praising him most profusely. Taking Geoff’s hand in his own, he began to hum a nonsensical tune, allowing the little boy to pull him out of the dimly lit study into the brightly lit hall. Harry only got a quick glimpse of Snape as the man settled down at his desk and picked up the most recent card he had been replying to. The sharp burst of laughter followed him all the way into the parlor.
The fifth thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me: Five months of bills.
Shuffling, and then the slamming of the front door, were not the only indications of Snape’s arrival back home. No, that would be far too quiet and ordinary. Harry cringed in his seat as a string of expletives ,that had him diving to block Geoffrey’s ears, spilled forth from Snape’s mouth uncensored.
“What happened?” Harry finally questioned when he felt it safe to release Geoff’s head.
“I just spent twenty-five galleons,” Snape grumbled. Harry looked at him shocked and slightly dazed. It wasn’t that they couldn’t afford it. It was the fact that Snape seemed to have nothing to show for it at all that made him worried.
“Well? What did you get then?”
Snape looked distinctly uncomfortable answering that question in front of Geoffrey. The two reasons that popped into Harry’s head as answers were on different ends of two separate spectrum's, and his expression must have shown it as well. Snape glared at him, and Harry dismissed one of his notions right away. It was a shame too. He was beginning to get excited about that notion. He’d bring it up later after Geoffrey went to bed, and he was certain they were alone. A small smile settled on his face, and he fluffed a bit of Geoffrey’s Malfoy blond hair.
“What are you smiling at, Potter?”
Harry smirked. “Just thinking about the expression on my aunt’s face if she knew how often we flippantly spent money. This time of the year her and uncle Vernon were usually knee deep in bills that they wouldn’t be able to pay back until next spring.”
Snape snorted.
The sixth thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me: Facing my in-laws.
The loud knock at the door had almost caused Harry to slosh his tea onto his trousers. He counted his blessings that he had drank most of the warm beverage before, and thus averted the unforeseeable consequences that the knock might have had. He set his book on the cushion beside him and put his tea on the coffee table before him.
Geoffrey, who until that very moment had been sitting on the floor, shot to his feet. “I’ll get it!” he hollered and disappeared into the hallway. Harry followed at a sedate pace as he listened for the telltale “Hullo?”. He made it around the corner just as Geoffrey opened the door to greet the visitor. A tall, rather scary looking older man with a cane and a bowler hat was standing on the stoop wearing an ugly sneer that could have surpassed Snape's even on his worse days.
“H-hullo?” Geoffrey stammered, his chalky skin going even paler.
Harry stepped up behind the little boy, resting his hand on his pajama clad shoulder and offered the stranger his other hand and a welcoming smile. “Hello. Can I help you?” he asked, wondering if it would be rude to shut the door in the stranger's terrifying face. He pulled Geoffrey closer, or Geoffrey took a step backwards, either way the five-year-old was protectively pressed against his legs.
The man’s scowl deepened as he glared at Harry then Geoffrey. “Where’s my nephew?”
“I beg your pardon?” Harry asked in confusion. “You must have-” He yelped and grabbed the side of his leg as the man limped into the house. He glared at the stranger’s back as he rubbed his cane thwacked leg. “Excuse me,” he said, straightening up. Harry absently pressed a kiss to Geoffrey’s forehead as he straightened. “Sir, I have to ask you to leave my home.”
“Your home?” the man snarled, rounding in what Harry supposed had once been a dramatic fashion.
“My home,” Harry repeated firmly, gripping Geoffrey‘s outstretched hand. He noted that the blond’s thumb had migrated to his mouth, and Harry squeezed Geoffrey's hand extra tight trying to reassure him, when he wasn’t feeling very reassured himself.
“I see.”
Chills swept down the back of Harry’s neck, raising gooseflesh all over his body. The oily voice was familiar in a way it shouldn’t have been, and Harry took an unintentional step away from the man. If he didn’t know any better he would have sworn he was-
“SEVERUS SNAPE, SHOW YOURSELF THIS INSTANT!” the man roared, causing both Harry and Geoffrey to jerk.
“You’re Sev-” Harry started, but was cut off before the look on Snape's uncle's face could become any dirtier. Well, that certainly explained a lot of things. “I’ll just go get him,” Harry said, pushing Geoffrey toward the parlor. Snape’s uncle nodded curtly and made a beeline for the kitchen much to Harry's relief. He didn’t want him in the same room with Geoffrey.
He ushered the five-year-old into the parlor and pushed him onto the couch before crouching in front of him. Harry scanned the dark eyes that were peering back at him nervously.
"You okay, mate?"
"Uh huh."
Harry stared at Geoffrey for a long moment before nodding. "All right then. I'm going to go get your Uncle Severus and then everything will be better."
"'Kay, Uncle Harry," Geoffrey murmured, sliding off the couch. He walked on his knees to the coffee table. He pulled the card he had been working on for a day now toward him and reached for the peach colored pencil. Harry leaned over Geoffrey's shoulder and peered at the front of the card. A small smile tugged at his lips as he identified Draco, Pansy and Geoffrey himself. It really was the hair that gave away Draco and Geoffrey, and the triangular skirt for Pansy.
"Can I see it?" he asked. Geoffrey nodded and handed it over. Harry pretended to be examining it as if it were a masterpiece. Geoffrey bounced in his spot. His shaggy blond hair flew across his eyes and a piece got caught on his eyelashes. Harry reached out and brushed it off the boy's forehead, before setting the card down with a satisfied expression. "This is really good, Geoff."
Geoffrey beamed and looked down at his own card proudly. "You think so?"
"I know so," Harry affirmed. He adopted a pensive expression while tapping the tabletop. He saw Geoffrey look up at him curiously. "You know what's missing though?"
"What?"
"A tree," said Harry, flipping open the card to reveal the empty space.
"Oh." Geoffrey stared wide-eyed at the blank page.
Harry knelt next to him with a gentle nudge of the elbow. Geoffrey giggled and shoved Harry back, who the retaliated by ruffling Geoffrey's hair.
"Don' touch my hair," Geoffrey whined, making to pat down his fluffed up hair. The effect was ruined though when Harry went at him, tickling his sides. Geoffrey's hands dropped to Harry's hands, trying to bat them away.
"What's going on in here?"
Harry froze, his fingers stilled mid-tickle. He glanced up at the surly old man standing in the doorway.
"Nothing," Harry answered, pulling Geoffrey's green dragon pajama top down, which had scrunched up during the tickle attack. He helped up the little boy into a sitting position, before pulling him onto his lap.
Snape's uncle arched a brow and stared pointedly at the mess of art supplies on the coffee table then back at Harry and Geoffrey with disgust. "I thought you said you would fetch my nephew."
"I will, but I had to-"
"No excuses," the greying man barked, causing both Harry and Geoffrey to flinch. "I thought my nephew had better taste than this. I shall speak to him about your unscrupulous behavior when he arrives."
Harry bristled defensively. He hugged Geoffrey before releasing him, prodding him off his lap onto the floor. As quickly and accurately as possible, he sketched a Christmas tree on the opposite side of the card from where the writing would go.
"Here you go, Geoff. Just color this while I go get Uncle Severus."
Geoffrey peered fearfully over at the grey haired man before leaning over to whisper in Harry's ear. "Will Uncle Sev'rus make the bad man leave?"
Harry's eyes shot over to the man who had seated himself in Snape's favorite armchair before shaking his head. "I don't think so, mate."
Geoffrey's expression crumpled, and for a moment, Harry was worried the five-year-old would burst into tears.
"Chin up, Geoff," Harry advised in hushed undertones. "You're a Malfoy after all."
Geoffrey's dark brown eyes snapped up to meet Harry's green ones and he nodded suddenly serious. "All right, Uncle Harry."
"Good." Harry nodded shortly and unfolded his legs then stood. "I'll be right back."
Snape's uncle inclined his head, and Harry shot Geoffrey one last worried look before disappearing into the hall. The door to the study was open and sunlight filtered into the hallway. Harry didn't even bother to look inside, there was no chance Snape would be working in there if the door was wide open like that. Plus, Harry was positive Snape would have emerged already at the knock on the door.
~*~
There was something soothing about mixing a potion. It involved little thought, yet if you did it wrong, the entire mixture could go sour. Snape preferred these moments of solitude while stirring his most recent potion because they gave him time to think or not, depending on how the day had been going.
This day had been going south at an alarming rate since he had been awoken by an overly cheerful five-year-old at six in the morning. Of course, he had forced Potter to take care of the hyper active child like he did most mornings since the brat had arrived.
He missed waking by his own internal clock. He missed having a coffee ready by his bedside still warm when he woke. However, what he missed the most was the silence morning once brought. Those mornings had vanished now and taken his daily caffeine consumption with them.
Draco was lucky he had decided to take his yearly cruise with his wife over the holidays, because if he had tried to saddle him with Geoffrey before then there would have been hell to pay. It was bad enough that he had barely found a spare minute to work on any of the potions that needed to be restocked in Hogwarts' hospital wing. He couldn't even tinker anymore without fear of being interrupted.
Today seemed to be the exception. He had been more than pleasantly surprised to see a cup of coffee waiting at his bedside that morning with the customary good morning note beside it. There had been a moment while he read the note when he wondered how early Potter had been up to do this again, but brushed it aside as soon as it showed up. If Potter wanted to wake up before the birds then let him.
He pulled the stirring rod out of the cauldron and laid it down beside it. The Skelo-grow potion was simple and that simplicity meant he didn't have to think as he went about making it. If he had been thinking perhaps he would have been more alert to the other person in the room.
"Severus?"
Snape's head snapped up in shock. "Potter?"
Harry hung his head sheepishly and rubbed his arm awkwardly. They stood in silence for a long moment where neither of them dared to speak.
"Did you come down here to look idiotic or do you want something?"
"You have company."
Snape stared at Harry impassively before casting a containment charm on the simmering cauldron.
"He's upstairs then," Snape said glancing up at the basement ceiling as if he could see through to the parlor above.
Harry's eyes widened in shock then narrowed in anger. "You knew?!"
"Knew what?" He stacked a bit of parchment into a neat and orderly pile and went about returning the ingredients to their rightful places on the shelves. "That my uncle would be arriving sometime this week? Yes, Potter, of course I knew."
Harry growled and stepped forward until he was about a foot away from the older man. "And you didn't bother to tell me?"
"And why should I have?"
"Because I wouldn't have made a bloody fool of myself and would have been ready to greet him."
Snape groaned and rubbed at his temple. Harry felt very little sympathy. "What happened?"
"Nothing, thankfully, but he scared the piss out of Geoffrey. If that child was anything less than a Malfoy he would have run screaming in terror."
"Surely you jest. My uncle is not a horrific monster, Potter. He could not have been that bad."
"Not. That. Bad?" Harry repeated very slowly, enunciating each word as he went.
"My uncle is not a bad man, but he is not a kind one either. Tell me, what did he do that offended you?"
Harry's mouth dropped open. "He beat me with his cane!"
Snape's mouth turned down in a frown. "He did what?"
Harry bent over and rolled up his pant leg, revealing the red welt from where the cane had struck him. "See?" he said, pointing at the line as if it weren't visible enough.
"I've seen worse."
Harry's mouth slammed shut and his expression turned murderous. "When you finish tinkering with your experiments I'll be upstairs." With that last sarcastic comment, he limped out of the refurbished room in the basement and took to the stairs. Merlin, Snape could be a right bastard when he wanted to be, but he certainly did not have good timing about it. Of all the things he needed today, it was Snape's flippant attitude.
He had never felt more lost in this house before, not even that time when Snape came home drunk wrapped around a pretty brunette claiming she was the best lay he ever had. The only reason Harry hadn't blown up at him the next day was because the hangover Snape had gotten from his dumb frolic through Knockturn Alley was far more painful than anything Harry could legally have done to him. He sighed heavily as he ran a hand over his face. There was a time when he had wondered what it would be like to meet Snape's relatives. He had never quite imagined it would result in this.
"Uncle Harry!" Geoffrey came speeding around the corner, catching Harry unawares and around the legs. The blond buried his face against Harry's stomach and it took Harry a second to realize the little boy was crying.
"Hey now, none of this then," Harry hushed, smoothing down the flaxen blond locks. "What's the matter?"
"My Chrismas tree is abnorman!" Geoffrey wailed into Harry's stomach.
Harry hooked his hands under the five-year-olds arms and hefted him off the ground. Geoffrey's arms automatically went around Harry's neck and his face became attached to Harry's shoulder. It didn't take much more effort than that to return to the parlor, where Harry found Snape's uncle sipping a glass of Snape's firewhiskey (Harry seriously hoped the man knew about the wizarding world) and holding Geoffrey's Christmas card.
The old man held the card out and open for Harry to see the picture within. The purple tree decorated with yellow ornaments stared up at Harry innocently from its place just begging him to say something in it's defense.
"You stayed in the lines," Harry praised, rubbing Geoffrey's back soothingly. "You did a wonderful job!"
"So...s'not abnorman?" Geoffrey's muffled question came out from Harry's shoulder.
Harry shook his head, his cheek brushing against the back of Geoffrey's head. "Nope. It's perfect."
"You must be thicker than I thought," Snape's uncle grunted, snapping the card closed. Using his thumb and forefinger, he laid it back down on the table as if it were disgusting. "No one would call that atrocity perfect."
Harry almost missed Snape's entrance into the room, he was so wrapped up in trying to glare down the intruder to his home. It wasn't until Snape's uncle leapt off his seat, very sprightly for a man who used a cane to walk, and brushed past Harry as if he was nothing more than a street vendor.
"Severus, my boy, you look disgusting!" The man said in way of greeting as he patted Snape heartily on the back.
"Thank you, Uncle Max. It is nice to see you as well. I imagine the trip here was dreadful."
"As can be expected this time of year. I'll never understand why you insist on living out here. It's barbaric."
"Force of habit," Snape replied, offering his relative something close to a grin.
Uncle "Max" snorted and slapped Snape on the back once again, neither man noticing the look of bewilderment on Harry's face. Geoffrey was no better, and was openly staring with curiosity at the strange interaction.
"You need to find yourself a good girl and settle down. Soon all the good ones will have shriveled up and turned into old hags, then what will you do with yourself?"
Snape's eyes hardened but it didn't seem to phase his uncle at all. Harry doubted very little did. He waited for Snape to explode and was horrified when it didn't happen.
"Live life out here in this rustic shack with ten Siamese cats, a full beard, and Potter over there." Snape waved in Harry's general direction.
"Ah so the boy does have a name then," Max said with malicious delight. Harry found himself more worried by the look in the man's dark eyes than by the comment alone, although being called a boy stung. He was nearing twenty-six. He certainly was not a boy.
Snape snorted, the sound slamming into Harry's ears. "Of course the fool has a name."
"I must tell you, Severus. You have horrible taste."
"In what? Drapery? I assure you they were not my first choice. I never would choose something so tacky."
Harry had to choke back a laugh at that. If it had been any other situation, Harry would have taken much glee in pointing out that the drapery had in fact been his first choice and Harry had been the one to have called them "tacky".
Max arched a brow and Harry suspected it was something all Snape's were capable of. He wondered if the Prince's were also that adept at it as well. It didn't entirely matter in the long run though, because Harry was dangerously close to his tolerance level.
"Uncle Sev'rus?" Geoffrey asked, turning his head so he could see the Potion's Master clearly. Snape stared at Geoffrey with an unreadable expression before inclining his head.
"Yes, what do you want?"
"Is my Christmas tree abnorman?"
"Abnorman isn't a word Geoffrey, and as a Malfoy I expect better language skills than the ones you are using."
Geoffrey buried his face once again against Harry's shoulder. His fingers weaving in the hair at the base of Harry's neck.
"Leave off him, Severus. He's five."
"Draco spoke perfect English at three."
"Yes," Harry agreed, even though that was news to him. He could feel his face grow hot with anger and the need to shout became almost unbearable. "And this is his son, not the man himself!"
"You're shouting, Uncle Harry," Geoffrey pointed out quietly. Silence hung between the three adults for a moment as they all stared at Geoffrey baffled. Harry broke it first seeing that a) he was holding the child and b) he was the one who yelled. Nothing about this situation felt right or fair and the tension in the room would be enough to choke anyone and the very fact that he had to hide this fact just ate at him a little more.
"I'm sorry, Geoff," he murmured apologetically.
"S'okay, Uncle Harry."
"Aw, how disgustingly charming," Max cooed, seating himself once again in Snape's favorite chair. Snape didn't even bat an eyelash at his uncle's behavior and calmly sat down in the spot Harry had abandoned when this mess had started. Harry stood in the middle of the room stranded. Geoffrey seemed to be crying again and Harry idly pondered if it would be bad form to follow the five-year-old's example.
Without even looking in Snape's direction, Harry hitched Geoffrey up higher on his waist. He bent over and swiped the Christmas card off the coffee table and, with as much self worth that he could muster, limped from the room.
He nearly dropped Geoffrey in shock when he heard Snape apologizing for his rude and despicable behavior. Breathing irregularly (he be damned if he cried in front of Geoffrey), he made his way to the guest room where Geoffrey had been staying and slammed the door, certain it rattled every blasted pane of glass in the house.
Part Two
Author: faynia
Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Word Count: 16, 284
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What's there not to love about taking care of Malfoy's child during the holidays?
A/N: Written during Christmas '06. Originally posted here @ snarry_slash.
The first thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me: Is finding a Christmas tree.
“Why am I out here again?”
Geoffrey picked up a large, twisted stick with his mittened hand and tossed it deeper into the woods. Harry ruffled the little boy’s bleach blond hair and grinned over at Snape, whose scowl was deeper than ever. They all ducked beneath a low hanging branch that was heavily laden with snow.
“Potter…” Snape growled threateningly as Harry reached up for the branch. Harry chuckled and grasped Geoffrey’s outstretched hand instead.
“Don’t tell me you aren’t having fun, Severus,” Harry teased, dodging as the older man took a swipe at the back of his head.
“Does it look like I’m ‘having fun’?” Snape groused, hugging his winter cloak tighter around his body. Geoffrey giggled and started bouncing up and down as they walked. Harry laughed, ignoring Snape’s surly expression.
“I don’t know, Geoff. Does it look like Uncle Sev is having fun?”
Geoffrey wrinkled his nose, gripped Harry’s hand with both of his black mittened ones, and shook his head wildly. Bits of wet snow flew off his hair. “No.”
“I didn’t think so.” Snape huffed and rolled his eyes, which only made Harry’s smile grow. “We need to fix this. What do you think, Geoff?”
“Yeah!” The five-year-old agreed enthusiastically. Harry’s eyes flicked from the Malfoy child’s upturned face to that of Snape’s. He wasn’t even going to bother to describe the differences in demeanor, only that it looked like someone had “accidentally” dropped wormwood into one of his potions and it was about to explode.
Harry crouched down in the snow so he was eye-level with the boy and idly adjusted Geoffrey’s scarf, all the while whispering softly so Snape couldn’t hear him.
Snape stared at them suspiciously unable to shake the feeling of foreboding that came suddenly with the eager expression on his godson’s child’s face. Potter, he snarled mentally. Whatever the whelp was telling the five-year-old, it would not be good for him and sure enough the moment Potter straightened up Geoffrey stomped over to him with a pleased expression. He raised an eyebrow, noticing the boy was hiding his hands behind his back.
“Uncle Sev?”
“What is it, Geoffrey?” he asked, mustering every last reserve of patience he had. “What do you have there?”
Geoffrey grinned and with exaggerated slowness revealed his empty palms. Snape’s eyebrow’s flew up his forehead, and before he knew what was happening, something cold, wet and entirely unpleasant was stuffed down the back of his robes. He hissed slowly, his eyes widening in anger while chills raced down his back as the snow made its way down his spine.
“Potter,” Snape snarled, turning around, ignoring Geoffrey’s giggle fit. Harry was standing there with red hands from holding the snow looking as innocent as a lamb.
“Yes, Severus?”
Damn brat, Snape thought angrily, shrugging his shoulders in a hope to make the snow move or melt faster. Either would do. They stayed like that, one with an irritated scowl on his lips, the other smiling genially.
“UNCLE HARRY!”
Harry looked away first and winked before heading off to where his “nephew” was standing. “What did you find, Geoff?”
Geoffrey pointed as best as mittens allow into the forest. Harry followed where Malfoy’s son was pointing, and his look of confusion melted into one of relief. He gave the five-year-old a one armed hug.
“He found a tree,” Harry called over his shoulder as he and the little blond tramped through the thin layer of snow on the ground.
“About bloody time,” Snape grunted, pulling his wand out of his trouser pocket. He just wanted this blasted trip out of the way and forgotten. How Potter had roped him into this one, he would never know.
The Second thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me: Rigging up these lights
Harry held the ladder still as Snape slowly climbed the rickety steps to the top. Snow from the bottom of Snape’s boots fell in Harry’s eyes as he watched the older man’s ascent. To be honest, Harry was having a hard time not laughing at the greasy bastard. Snape’s behavior was something to be mocked about for the next few weeks. After all, how was Harry supposed to have known Snape had a fear of heights?
“Potter, stop moving about and hold the ladder still.”
Harry choked back his laughter at the sharp, panicky command. “I’m not moving at all. Perhaps you’re imagining it?”
The ladder shuddered as Snape leaned to the side and suddenly long, yellowed fingers were clinging the shingles of the roof with such intensity Harry could see the man’s knuckles going white.
“This, Potter, is by far the single most asinine thing you’ve ever insisted I do.”
“I never said you had to put them up,” Harry pointed out helpfully, his own grip on the ladder tightening. He watched as Snape turned to look down at him, his long, stringy black hair falling in front of his face. “And don’t look down!” Harry shouted. On later reflection, he would realize he had never seen Snape go quite that shade of gray before.
Harry tensed, waiting for Snape to blow up at him but nothing happened.
“You all right up there?” Harry asked, finally allowing worry to creep into his tone.
Shallow breathing was all Harry heard. If this had been any other day or any other endeavor he might have teased the man for being so childish about the entire thing, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t, not with Snape more than 20 feet in the air. He fervently wished he could ignore the way the ladder was vibrating in his hands because if anything it was making him nervous. And he was on the sodding ground!
“Uncle Harry?”
Harry startled and wrenched his worried gaze from Snape’s back to look down at the little boy. Cautious, worried black eyes stared back up at him and for a moment Harry wondered if Geoffrey hadn’t done something bad inside the house while he and Snape had been out in the snow playing with Christmas lights.
“What’s wrong, Geoffrey?” Harry asked, and then, with a start, realized why the picture of the boy before him was so odd. “And why aren’t you wearing your boots?!”
Geoffrey shrugged seemingly unconcerned with the state of his soggy silver and green striped socks and numb toes. Harry’s face drained of color, and he felt torn. Half of him wanted to chase Geoffrey indoors, while the other wanted him to stay just where he was so Snape’s worst fears weren’t confirmed, and he’d find himself flat on his back on the unforgiving ground.
“Geoffrey,” Harry sighed. He glanced up at Snape again just to make sure he wasn’t going to suddenly fall or something equally unpleasant. “Go put them on please.”
“I don’t wanna,” Geoffrey said glumly.
Harry sighed again. “Geoffrey.”
“NO! You…you can’ tell me what to do! You’re not my daddy, Uncle Harry!”
“GEOFFREY LIAM MALFOY!”
Even Harry jumped at the roar from the top of the ladder; he had almost forgotten that roar still existed. He hadn't been on its receiving end for many, many months.
“I'm sorry, Uncle Sev’rus!” Geoffrey cried and ran into the house. Harry winced when the door slammed shut, sending snow off the roof and onto the ground. Harry cast a worried look up at Snape to see the greasy haired man was now glowering at him.
“It’s not my fault,” said Harry before he could curb his tongue.
“I know that you imbecile,” Snape snarled, and Harry had the good grace to look ashamed. He barely heard the sigh before the next cold, but less angry, statement, “I’m coming down the ladder.”
Harry nodded and held the ladder steady as Snape came storming down the metal contraption. Harry flinched as Snape brushed past him and stomped towards the house.
“Severus,” Harry called softly, letting go of the ladder reluctantly.
“What is it, Potter?” Harry looked up and wondered if it was a good or bad thing that Snape wasn’t facing him. Snape’s tone had betrayed nothing of what he was thinking.
“It’s not my fault,” he repeated, this time with a bit of heat behind it.
Snape reluctantly turned around and Harry pursed his lips. “What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t have to string up the lights.”
“You nitwit. Of course I had to.” Snape’s snort actually formed a cloud of white fog in front of him. Harry hadn’t really been consciously aware of how cold it was, but that could also mean he was numb to it. Snape had his arms folded across his chest in an unamused fashion.
Harry arched a brow in a fair imitation of the man in front of him. “No. I said I would, but you insisted on doing them. Hell, I didn’t even know you had a fear of heights, and yet, you insisted on putting them up yourself.”
“You never would have done them right,” Snape derided and, without giving Harry a chance to do anything but gape at the man in righteous indignation, he turned with a flare and finished stomping into the warm house. Harry stared after him in shock, which slowly turned into confusion then even slower as he moved to take down the ladder it became amusement.
Harry chuckled under his breath as he took his wand out of his pocket and began to string up the lights the way he had intended on doing the entire time. He never even knew where Snape got it into his head to do it the Muggle way, and he supposed he never would either.
The third thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me: Hangovers
“You’re a piss poor excuse for a…a…”
Harry snorted into his glass of scotch, watching Snape sway for a moment.
“You’re drunk,” Harry pointed out.
“And you’re not,” Snape returned, looking like he might pitch forward off his armchair. Harry had to wonder if the last two days really had been bad enough to warrant the excessive amount of alcohol going into Snape’s system.
Harry snorted at the attempted leer forming on Snape’s face. “Someone has to make sure Geoffrey doesn’t torch the house tomorrow.”
“Bloody fat lot of good you being sober does in this.”
Harry looked at Snape oddly for a moment and decided not to touch that statement with a very long, extremely pointy stick. Usually he said the odd things while drunk. If Snape suddenly decided that the ceiling was pretty and he should count his socks, then Harry knew he’d have to knock him out, but only to save him the embarrassment of having to recall every last thing the man told him.
“Of course not,” Harry soothed, swirling his drink. He curled his feet under his bottom and lounged against the armrest. A fire crackled in the grate, and a few stray embers spit out onto the hearth. He gazed at them peacefully as they glowed for a few moments before dying. Snape wasn’t making any noise, which either meant he had passed out or was drinking again. Harry turned his head back towards the older man and his eyes widened minutely. It turned out Snape wasn’t doing either of those things, no he was gazing at him with a starved expression that made Harry flush.
“You really are drunk,” Harry said, mirth bubbling up from the pit of his stomach.
“You said so yourself, Potter. Do you really doubt your capability of observation?”
Harry had half a mind to tell him he got that backwards and said it wrong. That he was supposed to make it an insult and not a sly compliment and a stray bit of comfort.
“You are going to be unbearable in the morning, you know this right? I am not going to take care of you this time.”
“What do you mean ‘this time’? There haven’t been any other times.”
Harry snorted and took a deep gulp of his drink, before placing the glass on the side table with a clink. “That you remember,” he whispered, picking up his wand that he had left beside him.
Snape chuckled darkly when Harry aimed his wand at him. With a deep sigh, Harry cast a stunner at the man and watched him slump backwards onto the couch. Harry glanced towards Geoffrey’s closed bedroom door, hoping Snape’s loud voice hadn’t woken up the five-year-old.
He carefully levitated Snape up off the chair and through the hall to his bedroom. As gently as possible, he lowered the inebriated man down onto the bed and tugged the covers out from beneath him. Harry tilted his head to the side with a small smile as he tucked Snape in and pressed a kiss to the man’s brow. There would be hell in the morning.
~*~
“UNCLE SEV!!!!” Geoffrey yelled, racing across the hardwood floors of the house to the kitchen. Harry winced in sympathy as Snape cradled his head in his hands, his long hair falling across his face. No words had passed between the two men that morning because they were unnecessary. A Snape with a hangover was not someone you wanted to trifle with, and Harry had learned that lesson fast. However, Geoffrey was only five and blond, not that it was any excuse, but he didn’t know not to be loud.
Snape growled low in his throat as Geoffrey skidded to a halt, crashing into the table jerking Snape’s elbows out from beneath him.
“Potter, I suggest you take the brat and get it out of my sight.”
Harry didn’t need to be told twice and grasped Geoffrey’s hand and tugged him out of the kitchen. “Come on, Geoff. We need to gather the firewood.”
Geoffrey nodded morosely and held out his arms as Harry put on his jacket. He waited patiently while Harry also helped him with his boots, mittens and hat. It took less time than normal, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder what was on the five-year-old’s mind.
As they exited the house hand in hand, Harry casually asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Uncle Sev’rus hates me doesn’t he?” Geoffrey mumbled, dark eyes downcast.
Harry stopped and turned to face the little boy. “What makes you say that, mate?”
“He yells at me, and calls me names, and-and looks at me like this!” Geoffrey scrunched up his face in what Harry assumed was an actual imitation of one of Snape’s more distasteful looks.
“He doesn’t hate you, Geoffrey.”
“He don’t?”
“No, he doesn’t. He just doesn’t know how to make his emotions known.”
“Oh.”
Harry arched a brow fairly certain the little boy had no idea what he had meant at all, but it didn’t matter because his usual smile was back in place.
The fourth thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me: Sending Christmas cards
“Do you even know half these people, Potter?”
Harry leaned back in the chair and stretched his arms out in front of him, dropping the quill onto the tabletop. He tilted his head backwards, imagining he could hear his neck cricking as he did so. Snape was gazing down at him with an amused expression that only served to make Harry feel more tired.
He shook his head in exhaustion and yawned wildly, not even bothering to cover his mouth. He’d gotten up at dawn with the intent of making out Christmas cards for what seemed like every sodding person in the Wizarding World. It wasn’t like he asked everyone to send him cards either.
Harry stared at the mounting pile beside him with aggravation, already narrowing in on the ones with the more colorful envelopes. He wondered how those people would word their marriage proposals. So far the most creative and threatening one said she would run around naked on boxing day proclaiming that he was a raging homosexual. Not that it wasn't the truth, he thought ruefully.
“You should rest, you know,” Snape advised, resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder before squeezing it gently.
Harry shrugged, making to pick up his quill again before thinking better of it. Instead, he dropped his hand back onto the tabletop. “Why?” The answer came in the form of a rampaging blond who tore into the study with a crazed, albeit giddy, expression. Harry felt the urge to slam his head against the desk but managed to reign it in. After all, everyone already thought he was crazy enough.
“UNCLE HARRY! UNCLE HARRY! UNCLE HARRY! GUESS WHAT? GUESS WHAT?” Geoffrey shouted, practically skipping around the desk. Harry saw the envelope in his hands and looked up at Snape in curiosity. Snape shook his head in exasperation. Well, at least Harry knew why Snape had wanted him to take a break. Being locked up inside the study all morning meant Snape had to take care of Geoffrey, which meant bad news for Harry. He couldn’t be certain if Snape had left his hand on his shoulder by mistake or if it was there to keep him planted in his seat. It wasn’t exactly like he could go anywhere now, not with Geoffrey gazing up at him.
“What?” asked Harry.
Geoffrey beamed up at him, showing off all his tiny baby teeth. “I got a letter!”
“Oh?” Harry held out his hand expectantly, and Geoffrey stuffed the envelope into his outstretched hand. He had a feeling he already knew who it was from just by the handwritten address. “Was it a good one?” he asked distractedly, turning over the envelope in his hands to open it.
“Yup!” Geoffrey chirped. “Uncle Sev’rus had to read it to me though, cause I couldn't.”
Harry glanced up into Geoffrey’s face, noting the brief look of disappointment before it vanished. He pulled out the folded letter and opened it. He scanned over the introduction paragraph before skipping to the signature. There, in flowery writing, said the words “Mama” and “Papa".
“It’s from your parents.”
“Yup!”
Harry sighed and saw that he would get no further answers unless he read the letter himself.
My Darling Baby Geoffrey,
We miss you very much and hope you are not bothering Severus too much. You know how much he hates to have his work interrupted.
Harry snorted into the parchment. A day were Geoffrey didn’t bother Snape would be a blessing. It didn’t seem to take much to set the surly man off during the hols. Perhaps it was a good thing Harry had given up on trying to hide Snape’s stash of liquor, he really didn’t want to think of what might have happened to the child in their care otherwise.
We leave Paris for the Swiss Alps tomorrow, darling, and have been thinking about you constantly. Have you been a good boy? Have you been doing everything Severus has asked of you, including eating your vegetables?
It took little effort for Harry to imagine the look of distaste on Geoffrey’s face at that last sentence. He and Snape had pretty much left well enough alone when it came to the blond and his vegetables. Finding string beans in various places for the better part of week clinched it.
Mama and Papa wish you the best and cannot wait to see you come Christmas. Do not let Severus or Potter scare you, baby. At least Severus means well.
Harry arched a brow at that last sentence noticing a distinct difference in the script. He could only assume that was when Malfoy had taken over to offer his sound advice. So far, he had enjoyed the diplomatic way Pansy had not included him in the letter. It had almost been too much to hope that he would have been left out completely. Ah well. He rustled the parchment a bit as he read the last few lines.
We love you, Geoffrey, and miss you terribly much.
Love,
Your Mama and Papa
If Geoffrey hadn’t been smiling up at him like Christmas had arrived early, Harry would have asked what Pansy had meant by “cannot wait to see you come Christmas.” He had been under the assumption that Geoffrey would be in their care until the New Year. He glanced over his shoulder at Snape, scanning the older man‘s face to see if he had already known. It would be one of those things he would hide from him, knowing how much love was shared between him and Malfoy.
Looking at Geoffrey, Harry found himself wondering how this little boy could be the spawn of Satan and Satan’s bride. While Pansy had never been openly mean to him before, it wasn’t like she had ever been openly friendly with him either. No, the separation of houses and bloodlines had been enough to install a silent animosity. He folded the letter and carefully put it back in its torn envelope and handed it to Geoffrey with a strained smile. Geoffrey didn’t seem to notice, and Harry was suddenly very thankful for the little boy’s inattention.
“You’re thinking too hard.”
“Shut up,” Harry said dismissively, waving a hand in Snape’s general direction.
He noticed that Geoffrey was still standing there beside him, but this time, seemed more puzzled than excited. Harry drummed his fingers once over the tabletop silently willing both of the intruders out of Snape’s study. Well, if he was going to be honest, he silently wished one of the intruders were gone. Really, was it too much to ask for a bit of peace so he could finish signing his name to these dramatically simplified thank you notes and Christmas cards? After all, it had taken him an hour to spell the messages onto appropriate blank cards in the first place. The subtle let down cards were in one pile, the blasé Happy Christmas ones in another, and the fuck off and die ones, which while few and far between, had a sizable pile of their own. All of them were waiting for his name.
He could just as easily charm his name onto each of them, but he felt that perhaps a personal touch would be appropriate. Having raving, sobbing, and apparently naked women at his, and Snape’s, doorstep did not sound like a fun time.
“Uncle Harry, whatcha doin’?” Geoffrey asked, placing his hands-envelope and all-on the desk and pushed himself up on tiptoes to see the contents of the desktop. Harry plucked a card from the “Happy Christmas” pile and handed it to the boy. Geoffrey took it and fell back on his heels as he examined it.
Harry gazed at Geoffrey, considering before taking a blank piece of card paper and folding it in half. He handed it to Geoffrey who took it easily, dropping his letter to the floor.
“You want to make your own?” Harry asked, inclining his head towards the blank card in Geoffrey’s hands. “You can mail it to your mama and papa once you finish it.”
Geoffrey’s eyes lit up brighter than any of the Christmas lights lining the house. “Really?”
Harry nodded and offered Geoffrey a genuine smile, not that the blond had really noticed the difference from his previous one, but Snape seemed to, if the subtle touch to his back indicated anything other than shifting of weight from one foot to the next.
“Yes, now we need to get you something to color with.” He stood up, noting Snape’s amused expression. It sent a thrill of happiness through him. He hoped this meant Snape would actually be in a good mood later, and if there was one set God, Harry would be praising him most profusely. Taking Geoff’s hand in his own, he began to hum a nonsensical tune, allowing the little boy to pull him out of the dimly lit study into the brightly lit hall. Harry only got a quick glimpse of Snape as the man settled down at his desk and picked up the most recent card he had been replying to. The sharp burst of laughter followed him all the way into the parlor.
The fifth thing at Christmas that’s such a pain to me: Five months of bills.
Shuffling, and then the slamming of the front door, were not the only indications of Snape’s arrival back home. No, that would be far too quiet and ordinary. Harry cringed in his seat as a string of expletives ,that had him diving to block Geoffrey’s ears, spilled forth from Snape’s mouth uncensored.
“What happened?” Harry finally questioned when he felt it safe to release Geoff’s head.
“I just spent twenty-five galleons,” Snape grumbled. Harry looked at him shocked and slightly dazed. It wasn’t that they couldn’t afford it. It was the fact that Snape seemed to have nothing to show for it at all that made him worried.
“Well? What did you get then?”
Snape looked distinctly uncomfortable answering that question in front of Geoffrey. The two reasons that popped into Harry’s head as answers were on different ends of two separate spectrum's, and his expression must have shown it as well. Snape glared at him, and Harry dismissed one of his notions right away. It was a shame too. He was beginning to get excited about that notion. He’d bring it up later after Geoffrey went to bed, and he was certain they were alone. A small smile settled on his face, and he fluffed a bit of Geoffrey’s Malfoy blond hair.
“What are you smiling at, Potter?”
Harry smirked. “Just thinking about the expression on my aunt’s face if she knew how often we flippantly spent money. This time of the year her and uncle Vernon were usually knee deep in bills that they wouldn’t be able to pay back until next spring.”
Snape snorted.
The sixth thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me: Facing my in-laws.
The loud knock at the door had almost caused Harry to slosh his tea onto his trousers. He counted his blessings that he had drank most of the warm beverage before, and thus averted the unforeseeable consequences that the knock might have had. He set his book on the cushion beside him and put his tea on the coffee table before him.
Geoffrey, who until that very moment had been sitting on the floor, shot to his feet. “I’ll get it!” he hollered and disappeared into the hallway. Harry followed at a sedate pace as he listened for the telltale “Hullo?”. He made it around the corner just as Geoffrey opened the door to greet the visitor. A tall, rather scary looking older man with a cane and a bowler hat was standing on the stoop wearing an ugly sneer that could have surpassed Snape's even on his worse days.
“H-hullo?” Geoffrey stammered, his chalky skin going even paler.
Harry stepped up behind the little boy, resting his hand on his pajama clad shoulder and offered the stranger his other hand and a welcoming smile. “Hello. Can I help you?” he asked, wondering if it would be rude to shut the door in the stranger's terrifying face. He pulled Geoffrey closer, or Geoffrey took a step backwards, either way the five-year-old was protectively pressed against his legs.
The man’s scowl deepened as he glared at Harry then Geoffrey. “Where’s my nephew?”
“I beg your pardon?” Harry asked in confusion. “You must have-” He yelped and grabbed the side of his leg as the man limped into the house. He glared at the stranger’s back as he rubbed his cane thwacked leg. “Excuse me,” he said, straightening up. Harry absently pressed a kiss to Geoffrey’s forehead as he straightened. “Sir, I have to ask you to leave my home.”
“Your home?” the man snarled, rounding in what Harry supposed had once been a dramatic fashion.
“My home,” Harry repeated firmly, gripping Geoffrey‘s outstretched hand. He noted that the blond’s thumb had migrated to his mouth, and Harry squeezed Geoffrey's hand extra tight trying to reassure him, when he wasn’t feeling very reassured himself.
“I see.”
Chills swept down the back of Harry’s neck, raising gooseflesh all over his body. The oily voice was familiar in a way it shouldn’t have been, and Harry took an unintentional step away from the man. If he didn’t know any better he would have sworn he was-
“SEVERUS SNAPE, SHOW YOURSELF THIS INSTANT!” the man roared, causing both Harry and Geoffrey to jerk.
“You’re Sev-” Harry started, but was cut off before the look on Snape's uncle's face could become any dirtier. Well, that certainly explained a lot of things. “I’ll just go get him,” Harry said, pushing Geoffrey toward the parlor. Snape’s uncle nodded curtly and made a beeline for the kitchen much to Harry's relief. He didn’t want him in the same room with Geoffrey.
He ushered the five-year-old into the parlor and pushed him onto the couch before crouching in front of him. Harry scanned the dark eyes that were peering back at him nervously.
"You okay, mate?"
"Uh huh."
Harry stared at Geoffrey for a long moment before nodding. "All right then. I'm going to go get your Uncle Severus and then everything will be better."
"'Kay, Uncle Harry," Geoffrey murmured, sliding off the couch. He walked on his knees to the coffee table. He pulled the card he had been working on for a day now toward him and reached for the peach colored pencil. Harry leaned over Geoffrey's shoulder and peered at the front of the card. A small smile tugged at his lips as he identified Draco, Pansy and Geoffrey himself. It really was the hair that gave away Draco and Geoffrey, and the triangular skirt for Pansy.
"Can I see it?" he asked. Geoffrey nodded and handed it over. Harry pretended to be examining it as if it were a masterpiece. Geoffrey bounced in his spot. His shaggy blond hair flew across his eyes and a piece got caught on his eyelashes. Harry reached out and brushed it off the boy's forehead, before setting the card down with a satisfied expression. "This is really good, Geoff."
Geoffrey beamed and looked down at his own card proudly. "You think so?"
"I know so," Harry affirmed. He adopted a pensive expression while tapping the tabletop. He saw Geoffrey look up at him curiously. "You know what's missing though?"
"What?"
"A tree," said Harry, flipping open the card to reveal the empty space.
"Oh." Geoffrey stared wide-eyed at the blank page.
Harry knelt next to him with a gentle nudge of the elbow. Geoffrey giggled and shoved Harry back, who the retaliated by ruffling Geoffrey's hair.
"Don' touch my hair," Geoffrey whined, making to pat down his fluffed up hair. The effect was ruined though when Harry went at him, tickling his sides. Geoffrey's hands dropped to Harry's hands, trying to bat them away.
"What's going on in here?"
Harry froze, his fingers stilled mid-tickle. He glanced up at the surly old man standing in the doorway.
"Nothing," Harry answered, pulling Geoffrey's green dragon pajama top down, which had scrunched up during the tickle attack. He helped up the little boy into a sitting position, before pulling him onto his lap.
Snape's uncle arched a brow and stared pointedly at the mess of art supplies on the coffee table then back at Harry and Geoffrey with disgust. "I thought you said you would fetch my nephew."
"I will, but I had to-"
"No excuses," the greying man barked, causing both Harry and Geoffrey to flinch. "I thought my nephew had better taste than this. I shall speak to him about your unscrupulous behavior when he arrives."
Harry bristled defensively. He hugged Geoffrey before releasing him, prodding him off his lap onto the floor. As quickly and accurately as possible, he sketched a Christmas tree on the opposite side of the card from where the writing would go.
"Here you go, Geoff. Just color this while I go get Uncle Severus."
Geoffrey peered fearfully over at the grey haired man before leaning over to whisper in Harry's ear. "Will Uncle Sev'rus make the bad man leave?"
Harry's eyes shot over to the man who had seated himself in Snape's favorite armchair before shaking his head. "I don't think so, mate."
Geoffrey's expression crumpled, and for a moment, Harry was worried the five-year-old would burst into tears.
"Chin up, Geoff," Harry advised in hushed undertones. "You're a Malfoy after all."
Geoffrey's dark brown eyes snapped up to meet Harry's green ones and he nodded suddenly serious. "All right, Uncle Harry."
"Good." Harry nodded shortly and unfolded his legs then stood. "I'll be right back."
Snape's uncle inclined his head, and Harry shot Geoffrey one last worried look before disappearing into the hall. The door to the study was open and sunlight filtered into the hallway. Harry didn't even bother to look inside, there was no chance Snape would be working in there if the door was wide open like that. Plus, Harry was positive Snape would have emerged already at the knock on the door.
~*~
There was something soothing about mixing a potion. It involved little thought, yet if you did it wrong, the entire mixture could go sour. Snape preferred these moments of solitude while stirring his most recent potion because they gave him time to think or not, depending on how the day had been going.
This day had been going south at an alarming rate since he had been awoken by an overly cheerful five-year-old at six in the morning. Of course, he had forced Potter to take care of the hyper active child like he did most mornings since the brat had arrived.
He missed waking by his own internal clock. He missed having a coffee ready by his bedside still warm when he woke. However, what he missed the most was the silence morning once brought. Those mornings had vanished now and taken his daily caffeine consumption with them.
Draco was lucky he had decided to take his yearly cruise with his wife over the holidays, because if he had tried to saddle him with Geoffrey before then there would have been hell to pay. It was bad enough that he had barely found a spare minute to work on any of the potions that needed to be restocked in Hogwarts' hospital wing. He couldn't even tinker anymore without fear of being interrupted.
Today seemed to be the exception. He had been more than pleasantly surprised to see a cup of coffee waiting at his bedside that morning with the customary good morning note beside it. There had been a moment while he read the note when he wondered how early Potter had been up to do this again, but brushed it aside as soon as it showed up. If Potter wanted to wake up before the birds then let him.
He pulled the stirring rod out of the cauldron and laid it down beside it. The Skelo-grow potion was simple and that simplicity meant he didn't have to think as he went about making it. If he had been thinking perhaps he would have been more alert to the other person in the room.
"Severus?"
Snape's head snapped up in shock. "Potter?"
Harry hung his head sheepishly and rubbed his arm awkwardly. They stood in silence for a long moment where neither of them dared to speak.
"Did you come down here to look idiotic or do you want something?"
"You have company."
Snape stared at Harry impassively before casting a containment charm on the simmering cauldron.
"He's upstairs then," Snape said glancing up at the basement ceiling as if he could see through to the parlor above.
Harry's eyes widened in shock then narrowed in anger. "You knew?!"
"Knew what?" He stacked a bit of parchment into a neat and orderly pile and went about returning the ingredients to their rightful places on the shelves. "That my uncle would be arriving sometime this week? Yes, Potter, of course I knew."
Harry growled and stepped forward until he was about a foot away from the older man. "And you didn't bother to tell me?"
"And why should I have?"
"Because I wouldn't have made a bloody fool of myself and would have been ready to greet him."
Snape groaned and rubbed at his temple. Harry felt very little sympathy. "What happened?"
"Nothing, thankfully, but he scared the piss out of Geoffrey. If that child was anything less than a Malfoy he would have run screaming in terror."
"Surely you jest. My uncle is not a horrific monster, Potter. He could not have been that bad."
"Not. That. Bad?" Harry repeated very slowly, enunciating each word as he went.
"My uncle is not a bad man, but he is not a kind one either. Tell me, what did he do that offended you?"
Harry's mouth dropped open. "He beat me with his cane!"
Snape's mouth turned down in a frown. "He did what?"
Harry bent over and rolled up his pant leg, revealing the red welt from where the cane had struck him. "See?" he said, pointing at the line as if it weren't visible enough.
"I've seen worse."
Harry's mouth slammed shut and his expression turned murderous. "When you finish tinkering with your experiments I'll be upstairs." With that last sarcastic comment, he limped out of the refurbished room in the basement and took to the stairs. Merlin, Snape could be a right bastard when he wanted to be, but he certainly did not have good timing about it. Of all the things he needed today, it was Snape's flippant attitude.
He had never felt more lost in this house before, not even that time when Snape came home drunk wrapped around a pretty brunette claiming she was the best lay he ever had. The only reason Harry hadn't blown up at him the next day was because the hangover Snape had gotten from his dumb frolic through Knockturn Alley was far more painful than anything Harry could legally have done to him. He sighed heavily as he ran a hand over his face. There was a time when he had wondered what it would be like to meet Snape's relatives. He had never quite imagined it would result in this.
"Uncle Harry!" Geoffrey came speeding around the corner, catching Harry unawares and around the legs. The blond buried his face against Harry's stomach and it took Harry a second to realize the little boy was crying.
"Hey now, none of this then," Harry hushed, smoothing down the flaxen blond locks. "What's the matter?"
"My Chrismas tree is abnorman!" Geoffrey wailed into Harry's stomach.
Harry hooked his hands under the five-year-olds arms and hefted him off the ground. Geoffrey's arms automatically went around Harry's neck and his face became attached to Harry's shoulder. It didn't take much more effort than that to return to the parlor, where Harry found Snape's uncle sipping a glass of Snape's firewhiskey (Harry seriously hoped the man knew about the wizarding world) and holding Geoffrey's Christmas card.
The old man held the card out and open for Harry to see the picture within. The purple tree decorated with yellow ornaments stared up at Harry innocently from its place just begging him to say something in it's defense.
"You stayed in the lines," Harry praised, rubbing Geoffrey's back soothingly. "You did a wonderful job!"
"So...s'not abnorman?" Geoffrey's muffled question came out from Harry's shoulder.
Harry shook his head, his cheek brushing against the back of Geoffrey's head. "Nope. It's perfect."
"You must be thicker than I thought," Snape's uncle grunted, snapping the card closed. Using his thumb and forefinger, he laid it back down on the table as if it were disgusting. "No one would call that atrocity perfect."
Harry almost missed Snape's entrance into the room, he was so wrapped up in trying to glare down the intruder to his home. It wasn't until Snape's uncle leapt off his seat, very sprightly for a man who used a cane to walk, and brushed past Harry as if he was nothing more than a street vendor.
"Severus, my boy, you look disgusting!" The man said in way of greeting as he patted Snape heartily on the back.
"Thank you, Uncle Max. It is nice to see you as well. I imagine the trip here was dreadful."
"As can be expected this time of year. I'll never understand why you insist on living out here. It's barbaric."
"Force of habit," Snape replied, offering his relative something close to a grin.
Uncle "Max" snorted and slapped Snape on the back once again, neither man noticing the look of bewilderment on Harry's face. Geoffrey was no better, and was openly staring with curiosity at the strange interaction.
"You need to find yourself a good girl and settle down. Soon all the good ones will have shriveled up and turned into old hags, then what will you do with yourself?"
Snape's eyes hardened but it didn't seem to phase his uncle at all. Harry doubted very little did. He waited for Snape to explode and was horrified when it didn't happen.
"Live life out here in this rustic shack with ten Siamese cats, a full beard, and Potter over there." Snape waved in Harry's general direction.
"Ah so the boy does have a name then," Max said with malicious delight. Harry found himself more worried by the look in the man's dark eyes than by the comment alone, although being called a boy stung. He was nearing twenty-six. He certainly was not a boy.
Snape snorted, the sound slamming into Harry's ears. "Of course the fool has a name."
"I must tell you, Severus. You have horrible taste."
"In what? Drapery? I assure you they were not my first choice. I never would choose something so tacky."
Harry had to choke back a laugh at that. If it had been any other situation, Harry would have taken much glee in pointing out that the drapery had in fact been his first choice and Harry had been the one to have called them "tacky".
Max arched a brow and Harry suspected it was something all Snape's were capable of. He wondered if the Prince's were also that adept at it as well. It didn't entirely matter in the long run though, because Harry was dangerously close to his tolerance level.
"Uncle Sev'rus?" Geoffrey asked, turning his head so he could see the Potion's Master clearly. Snape stared at Geoffrey with an unreadable expression before inclining his head.
"Yes, what do you want?"
"Is my Christmas tree abnorman?"
"Abnorman isn't a word Geoffrey, and as a Malfoy I expect better language skills than the ones you are using."
Geoffrey buried his face once again against Harry's shoulder. His fingers weaving in the hair at the base of Harry's neck.
"Leave off him, Severus. He's five."
"Draco spoke perfect English at three."
"Yes," Harry agreed, even though that was news to him. He could feel his face grow hot with anger and the need to shout became almost unbearable. "And this is his son, not the man himself!"
"You're shouting, Uncle Harry," Geoffrey pointed out quietly. Silence hung between the three adults for a moment as they all stared at Geoffrey baffled. Harry broke it first seeing that a) he was holding the child and b) he was the one who yelled. Nothing about this situation felt right or fair and the tension in the room would be enough to choke anyone and the very fact that he had to hide this fact just ate at him a little more.
"I'm sorry, Geoff," he murmured apologetically.
"S'okay, Uncle Harry."
"Aw, how disgustingly charming," Max cooed, seating himself once again in Snape's favorite chair. Snape didn't even bat an eyelash at his uncle's behavior and calmly sat down in the spot Harry had abandoned when this mess had started. Harry stood in the middle of the room stranded. Geoffrey seemed to be crying again and Harry idly pondered if it would be bad form to follow the five-year-old's example.
Without even looking in Snape's direction, Harry hitched Geoffrey up higher on his waist. He bent over and swiped the Christmas card off the coffee table and, with as much self worth that he could muster, limped from the room.
He nearly dropped Geoffrey in shock when he heard Snape apologizing for his rude and despicable behavior. Breathing irregularly (he be damned if he cried in front of Geoffrey), he made his way to the guest room where Geoffrey had been staying and slammed the door, certain it rattled every blasted pane of glass in the house.
Part Two