"Oh! Millie gave me new gloves for Quidditch, and Teddy gave me a book, too, like you did, sir, but on Charms. Hagrid gave me a flute; I think he carved it himself!" Potter looked immeasurably pleased at the prospect, and Severus recalled that the boy claimed Hagrid as his first friend in the Wizarding world. Good; Hagrid had come through for the boy. "And, um, Hermione gave me more Chocolate Frogs. I've got a decent collection of cards, now. About six of Professor Dumbledore, though."
Severus nodded, stating (and then explaining what he meant) that the Headmaster was indeed ubiquitous. He did not bother asking if the boy had received anything from his relatives. He already knew the answer, if their previous efforts were anything to go by.
Eyes still shining in happiness, Harry continued to chatter at him about his gifts, including thanking Severus several more times for the book. Once the boy had finished his cocoa, however, Severus ushered him back out of his rooms, with the admonition to eat more than just candy today, and that they were to begin Occlumency training on the morrow, so it would be in his best interests to at least look at the book by Keating, especially the index.
He did not tell the boy that he had tucked two pictures of Lily into that index, as he preferred not to be the recipient of another round of overwhelming thanks.
Just then, however, the boy said, "Oh, thanks! I almost forgot." He gave Severus another of his shy smiles before he pulled a small, flat package from the frontispiece of the book and pressed it into Severus' hands. Biting his lip briefly, Harry said, "You've got to enlarge it first. Sorry; it's not much. Happy Christmas, Professor." Then he fled.
Puzzled, Severus stood stock still, listening to his door close with a quiet click, before he fully realized what had happened. Potter had given him a gift.
Potter had given him a gift.
Potter had given him a gift.
It was completely unexpected. After a few moments of consideration, however, he realized he should have expected something of the sort from this boy. Such a gesture was just like him. Just like this kind, amusing, diffident, unassuming, starved-for-affection little boy. How like Lily he was, in so many ways, right down to his occasional bouts of temper. Oh how she had raged when they were in school, sometimes, at the injustices against Muggleborns (like her) and half-bloods (like him). He remembered, suddenly, the first gift she had ever given him, and he darted into his bedroom to find it, needing desperately to see her drawing again.
After rooting around in various drawers, he finally found the pencil sketch tucked in the back of his wardrobe in a small box of odds and ends. She had done his face at the ripe age of ten, and even then her talent for shading (his nose) and proportion (his mouth) was apparent. She had progressed quite far over the years, of course, and . . . somewhere, he had an "updated" portrait she'd done of him when they were Fifth Years. It had been the last gift she ever gave him, for his 16th birthday in January 1976, six short months before their relationship had gone the way of all meat.
He realized he still held Harry's gift in his left hand, and he now sat back on his heels to open the small package, about the size and thickness of a Hogwarts letter. The wrapping was plain parchment that had been colored green and silver with a simple charm -- but one not officially taught to students. That the boy had gone so far as to learn a new spell for the wrapping touched him. Then he recalled that Harry had said to enlarge the gift, too, and the Shrinking Charm was definitely a second year spell.
After he reversed the charm, the package was easily twice as large as before, maybe three times, but was still just as thin. Severus removed the wrapping carefully, wondering what an eleven-year-old considered "not much," and gasped when he saw what lay within.
Lily's son had drawn him, too.
Severus looked from one picture to the other and noted the similarities and differences, even accounting for the twenty year span in his age when he was drawn. Harry's effort was, at once, a more complicated drawing than the one Lily had done, but understated and seemingly simplistic, with the darker ink lines coming together just so to complete the whole.
The boy's pen and ink sketch must have been mostly from memory, as it showed Severus at work, hovering over a cauldron with tiny wisps of vapor timelessly rising from its depths, and the boy could not have sketched him in this pose whilst in class and not been caught out. Using perspective quite well in the background he chose, he depicted a portion of Severus' office, with its shelves full of jars and bottles of ingredients, rather than the boring chalkboard of the Potions' classroom. In the figure of Severus himself, the boy had rendered his robes brilliantly, catching his trademark billow in a few short strokes. But the best work by far was in how he drew Severus' face, using subtle changes in tone to indicate eye sockets and the planes of his heavy nose and brows. And you could see the passion Severus had for his work in the pinpoints of dark fire in his eyes.
A marvelous effort, indeed, for one so young, not to mention untaught, since he knew very well the Dursleys would never have purchased lessons for their unwanted nephew.
He would need to tell Harry as much. And perhaps, show him his mother's drawing, too. Tomorrow perhaps, as a reward for Occlumency, if that lesson went well. He pursed his lips, considering, and sighed. Perhaps he would show the boy the drawing even if the lesson did not go well, which was more likely, given Harry's age and the emotional strain he was already under.
Cursing Albus for a meddling fool once again, with no regard for Harry's welfare, Severus returned to his sitting room where he finished his tea before picking up a bit from the morning's excitement. The crocheted throw Harry had confiscated while sipping cocoa was folded and replaced on the back of the sofa, and he banished the dishes to the kitchen. Severus moved the few gifts he had received -- from Minerva and Albus, in addition to Harry -- into his study, where he tucked one of the books into the space reserved for it, next to others by that particular author, and left the other on his desk till he had the chance to peruse it more thoroughly and decide how to catalogue it. Harry's drawing, after a moment's thought, he rested on its bottom edge against the back wall of his desk so he could see it while working on his lesson plans; a form of inspiration, perhaps, he thought with a smile.
Finally, he luxuriated in a long bath before putting on dress robes and gracing the Great Hall -- and its overblown Christmas dinner -- with his presence. For all the raucous, unfettered joy of it, which rarely gave him anything but a headache, he might not have bothered.
The children all ate too much candy and pudding, as he knew they would, and were exponentially louder as a result as the afternoon wore on. All ten of those staying at Hogwarts over the holidays, even the two Ravenclaw Seventh Years and the one lonely Hufflepuff Fourth Year, were far too filled with cheer for Severus' sensibilities -- excepting Percival Weasley, perhaps, a Gryffindor Prefect who had other unfortunate personality issues to more than make up for that lack, including a nauseating tendency to kiss arse.
The Christmas crackers were their usual booming, smoky annoyance, and the Headmaster showed off his new flowered bonnet with glee at dinner, while Hagrid got redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Minerva on the cheek. To Severus' amazement, she merely giggled and blushed instead of clocking the lout as he deserved, while her top hat wobbled to and fro. He had rarely seen her so deep in her own cups in front of the children, and hoped for her sake that she either forgot the incident entirely or, at least did nothing even more foolish before she had a chance to sober up. He made a mental note to refuse her a hangover potion in the morning unless she asked very, very nicely. And brought a bribe.