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
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
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
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.
Peripherally, Severus noted that Potter was the recipient of a Wizard's chess set from a cracker, among other treats, and wondered if the boy even knew how to play. Likely not, he thought. Thus it was to his surprise that he found, late in the afternoon, after the children came in from a rowdy snowball fight -- which Severus had watched surreptitiously from an upper window to make sure no one (Potter, for instance) was injured -- and most had dispersed to their common rooms, Harry seated at one of the currently shrunken tables in the Great Hall, playing Wizard's chess against the youngest Weasley boy.
As far as he could recall from the previous few months, Potter and Weasley did not get along. Weasley had been one of Potter's most vocal attackers all last term, with his frequent accusations of how Harry must be on his way to becoming a Dark Wizard due to his placement in Slytherin. Severus appreciated neither the sentiment nor the preconceptions that fueled it.
Making his way toward them, Severus decided to find out what this sudden camaraderie was all about. Perhaps it was nothing more than the two boys being the only children in their year to be staying over the break. Or perhaps Weasley liked Wizard's chess more than clinging to his prejudices. Whatever the reason, Severus was glad to see Harry apparently enjoying himself, but he hoped the boy would not put too much faith in the redhead's current favor. He was bound to be disappointed.
With that in mind, he stopped near the boys to watch a few moves (ostensibly) and to glare at the Weasley boy (more genuinely.) On the board, Harry's pieces were in full out retreat. From the way he was softly (and uncertainly) entreating his pieces to listen to his commands, it was clear he had never played before.
Despite not needing to concentrate overmuch on the game, a couple moves passed before the oblivious redhead noticed one of his professors standing across the table from him. Not surprising; after all, the imbecile never paid attention to anything going on around him, which was why he was as much a menace in Potions as his year- and housemate, Longbottom. Between those two blundering idiots, the floor and ceiling of his classroom would need to be re-tiled over the summer, simply due to the number of exploding and/or melting cauldrons for which they were responsible. He wished he could take the cost of the damage out of their hides, and hoped only
