Christmas Present

Disclaimer: The following applies to this and all of the following chapters of this story: I do not own the characters, situations, locations or any other aspects of these stories and do not make any money from them.





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This is a story based upon my character Celia/Rosalind, who was
introduced in my story, \'Love\'s Labours; Paradise Lost\'.  If you
enjoyed that story,
I hope you will like this Christmas-themed vignette.  If you
haven\'t
read that rather lengthy work, I don\'t suggest that you begin with this
short story, as I provide basically no information regarding the
history
of her relationship with Snape.

As always, Snape and any other characters, locations or situations you
recognize from JK Rowling\'s \'Harry Potter\' books belongs to her et al,
and
no copyright infringements are intended.  I am writing merely for
my
own pleasure and receive absolutely no monetary reward for doing so.



Dedicated to lablanche, for her love, encouragement and wisdom,
 and
of course her invaluable editing skills,

And to M, because it was her idea to see more of Snape and Celia



As we remember the cheer of Christmas Past

And anticipate the delights of Christmas Yet To Be

Let us never forget that joy can always be found in Christmas Present

Though we must sometimes search for it within ourselves





Christmas Present



  

Special discount today-all Xmas decorations half-off!



For a very long moment she stood there in the street, eyeing the sign
and the bright assortment of garlands, lights and ornaments that
surrounded it,
all the while sternly chastising herself for even being tempted by the
offer.
 The only reason she had even ventured outside on this blustery
Christmas
Eve evening had been to fetch something for her dinner, and she had
quite
purposefully attempted to ignore the decor and the rush of last-minute
shoppers
as best she could.  It would be quite silly to go in and look, she
told herself, for she had never been much interested in holiday
decorating.

Perhaps it was because her mother had always gone overboard at
Christmas.  Not that the woman had evinced an abundance of \'goodwill
toward men\', or even an especial gaiety in celebrating the season..
 She had simply always wanted to outdo all the other society
ladies and ensure that she had the largest, most expensive and
stunningly chic display in the
neighborhood.  As such, it was necessary to start anew each year
with
a fresh set of decorations, relegating the old ones to the attic for a
few
years until they were declared completely outmoded and finally found
their way to the dustbin.  Such had also been the fate of the few
handmade ornaments that her daughter had dared to bring home from
school with her.  Celia had always found herself marveling at the
stories of her classmates, who told delightfully of trimming the tree
with decorations that had been in their family for generations, cooing
over their \'favorite\' ornaments as
they reappeared year after year.  In her family, it seemed, it was
much
more important to be trendy than to be traditional.

Yet she stood there, wavering in the street and chewing down
thoughtfully upon her lip.   This was really the first Christmas
that she had been on her own where she might even have considered the
idea of putting up a decoration or two.  It had somehow seemed
ludicrous to adorn the tiny flat of a street-walking prostitute with
holiday knickknacks.  Not that
Christmas was a \'slow time of the year\' for that profession.
 Indeed, she had found that most Christmas Eves she could keep
herself quite busy with a steady stream of outcast and forlorn men who
were attempting to ignore the holiday altogether or to hold the demons
of loneliness at bay that night by seeking out companionship of any
kind-even if they had to pay for it.  

But tonight it would be she who was alone.

She shivered slightly and pulled her coat more tightly around her,
blinking back the tears that had suddenly filled her eyes and trying to
pretend that they were the result of the brisk wind whipping at her
face.  She hadn\'t dared to ask Snape straight out if he had any
intention of celebrating the holiday with her, of course.  He had
made it quite plain when he had first ensconced her in her new abode
that his presence was required at Hogwarts throughout the Christmas
break, and that she could not expect him to deviate from his usual
schedule.  But while she had immediately resigned herself to the
fact that he would not be spending an extended period of time with her,
she had allowed herself the tiniest bit of hope that he would at least
visit her on the day itself. But as Christmas had drawn nearer he had
seemed to take no note of the season and she, out of fear of being
rebuked, said nothing as well.  

In fact, it had taken all of her courage to call out, as nonchalantly
as she could, \'See you next weekend, then?\' as he was preparing to
leave the flat on Sunday morning a few days ago.  She had hoped
that the unspoken inference (that he might possibly be back before then
since Christmas fell in midweek) was clear enough without making her
sound too pathetically needy.

His only reply had been one of his disdainful snorts, and as his face
was hidden by his long hair as he bent his head, his nimble fingers
fastening the long row of buttons upon his traveling cloak she had not
been able to see anything of his expression.  She had relied upon
the fact that it was not followed by stinging reprimand to assume that
it was an affirmative answer.  A few seconds later, he had vacated
the room, his single utterance a reminder to make sure that she lock
the doors securely as soon as he was gone.  She had done so, and
then had wandered back to the couch and sat down with her arms wrapped
tightly around her, fighting back tears and wondering why she had even
dared to hope that Snape would deign to keep her
company over the holiday. It seemed abundantly clear now that he meant
to
ignore the festivities altogether.

\'Well, fine then,\' she thought, suddenly making up her mind and
directing her steps toward the shop door.  \'Since you\'re not
even
going to be here, you\'ll have no reason to object to my putting up a
few decorations.\'  As she crossed the threshold, she couldn\'t
help
but add, \'And I\'ll be sure to have everything packed away before
you
return this weekend.\'  Because as rebellious and unhappy as
she
felt this particular moment, she also knew she could ill afford to
antagonize
her benefactor.  Snape was irascible and short-tempered under the
best
of circumstances, and she had already unwittingly provoked his fury
numerous
times during their short time together.  She had no desire to
tempt
fate by openly flouting his apparently unwritten rule that the holiday
was
beneath his notice.

Striding into the store, she threaded her way through the crowd and
stood before the large bins holding the assortment of ornaments and
trinkets.  Truth be told, the inventory was looking rather sparse
and picked-over.  It was little wonder that they were selling the
lot at half-price
on Christmas Eve.  No doubt no one would be tempted to buy any of
these bedraggled items after the store reopened after the holiday, even
if the
price were reduced even more.  

She spent several minutes picking through the case, finding a few items
that that appeared relatively undamaged and scooping up an armful of
garlands as well.  As she turned to make her way toward the sales
register, a
small tree perched upon a table caught her eye and she found herself
drawn toward it.  

To her amazement, she caught the fresh whiff of pine as she bent over
it and was pleased to discover that it was indeed a real tree rather
than one of those dreadful plastic ones.  And although there were
a number of ornaments from the store\'s inventory hung upon its branches
(admittedly, these
looked to be in better shape than the remnants she had just pawed
through),
the main decorations were long strings of cranberries and popcorn and
dozens
of snowflakes.  Some of the latter were cut from thick white
paper,
but others were crafted of delicate fabric and there were a few
crocheted ones as well.  She stared at the tree for several
minutes before noticing that some of the stars were decidedly lopsided.
 As she bent down to study these more carefully, she heard a laugh
behind her.

\"Oh, those ones are from my sister\'s class,\" chirped a voice.

Straightening up, she turned to regard the young saleswoman who had
appeared beside her.

\"She teaches at a local daycare,\" the woman explained.  \"Taught
the young ones how to make \'Christmas stars\' for their tree and she
ended up with hundreds by the time they got done.\"  Gesturing
toward the tree she continued.  \"The older ones pitched in as
well-they did the fancier ones and the strings.\"

\"I don\'t suppose,\" Celia began, frowning slightly as she continued to
examine the small display, \"That it would be possible to purchase
these?\"

\"The manager said all ornaments are half-off, so I guess they\'re the
same price as in the bins,\" the salesclerk replied with a shrug.

\"No, I mean the whole tree-including everything on it,\" clarified Celia.

\"The whole tree as is?\"  The woman looked slightly startled.
\"Well, I don\'t know about that-\" she began.

\"Why not?\" she asked, her smile broadening.  \"Look, you\'re going
to be closing up shop in a half hour, and since it\'s a real tree, it\'s
not like
you\'re going to be keeping it for next year or anything.  Might as
well get rid of it now.\"

\"I guess so,\" conceded the girl.  She considered the matter for a
moment, and then shrugged again.  \"I\'ll go ask my manager,\" she
said, walking toward a long table where a disgruntled customer was
arguing with
a a particularly harried-looking woman.

The salesgirl had to wait for nearly five minutes before she could
catch the  latter woman\'s attention, during which time Celia found
herself standing in front of the tree, as if to guard it from any other
potential buyers.  When the girl had whispered the request,
however, the woman had merely thrown a bemused look in her direction
and uttered a terse reply before turning her attention to the next
customer.

The salesgirl was beaming as she approached Celia again.  \"She
says it yours for twenty-five pounds!\"

Celia hesitated for just a moment.  It was a bit more than she
really thought it was worth but it wasn\'t outrageously priced.
 \"All right,\" she said, nodding her head.  \"And these as
well,\" she added, gesturing toward the items she had already selected.
 

About ten minutes later, she was walking down the street, carrying a
large plastic sack into which the girl had managed to fit the tree and
her other purchases.  It was only a few steps more to reach the
small establishment that had been her original destination, and as she
headed into this shop she saw that they had a sign up as well.

We will be closed on Christmas Day so that our employees may spend
time with their families.

Her happiness seemed to evaporate instantly, as she once more allowed
herself to dwell upon the fact that she herself would be alone. But
swallowing back the lump in her throat with a resolute gulp, she lifted
her chin and strode into the restaurant.  

It was tiny place, devoted mainly to carryout service as it boasted
only a handful of tables crammed into its compact space. But the soups
and bread were homemade and delicious and the majority of its clientele
were people from the neighborhood.   She saw several vaguely
familiar faces as she
stood in line to place her order and found her spirits rising somewhat
as
she perused the daily specials written on the blackboard behind the
counter.  As she waited her turn, she even allowed herself to
start humming along
with the holiday music blaring from the speakers of the radio that sat
upon
a shelf along the wall.

\"I\'ll have a pint of the Lobster Bisque and two of the rye rolls,
please,\" she said, smiling at the young boy who was taking down the
orders.

\"Well, you know,\' he said, his pen hesitating over the order pad, \"That
if you make it a quart and four rolls, we\'ll throw in a bottle of
eggnog with that,\" he offered cheerily.

\"Unadvertised special?\" she asked, her eyes scanning the board again.

\"You might say that,\" he replied with a grin.  \"Seems we kind of
over-ordered the eggnog,\" he admitted.  \"It\'s outdating in a
couple of days, so we\'re
trying to \'reduce the inventory\' per the boss.\"

She hesitated for just a moment.  \"Sure make it a quart of the
bisque and four rolls-two wheat and two rye,\" she declared.  After
all, she reasoned, it was an extraordinarily good soup and this way she
would have enough for both tonight and tomorrow.  And although she
had never been one to drink alone, the thought of an eggnog laced with
a generous dollop of bourbon was beginning to sound quite tempting.
 

Within ten minutes she was entering the front door of her building, the
large sack containing the tree and decorations in her right hand and
the paper bag with her dinner clutched in her left.  As she
towards the stairs, she stopped for a moment and listened to the happy
sounds of partying coming from one of the flats on the ground floor.

The occupants of the flat had been the very first people to have
befriended her in the building.  Jim and John were both young and
handsome men, but since they were gay and obviously devoted to each
other, she had felt free to pursue the friendship, knowing that Snape
could find no reason to be jealous of them.  And for their part,
they had accepted her rather strange living arrangements with her
supposed \'boyfriend\', who seemed to appear out of thin air and only on
the weekends.  She rather suspected that they thought he was
married; they definitely knew that he was supporting her at the moment,
but they had been kind enough to drop the subject after their initial
inquiries had been answered with short and vague replies.  Jim
had invited her to bring him down for a drink and dinner sometime, but
she
had managed to gracefully decline the invitation, stating that their
time
together was so limited and that to be truthful, her friend was rather
inclined
to be anti-social.

Well, that\'s the understatement of the year, she thought, as she
began to climb up the steps.

As a matter of fact, maybe it was just as well that he wasn\'t here
tonight.  She wasn\'t completely alone, after all.  There was
Jaques and Miranda to talk to, and she had even given in at the last
moment and purchased a cheaply priced CD of Christmas music at the
ornament store.  She was
rather looking forward to bringing the mirror out into the living room,
releasing
the grey parrot from his cage, putting on the music and spreading out
her
decorations while sipping a cup or two of the eggnog.  Hell, maybe
the three of them could even sit around and sing along with the carols.
 She
could always heat up her dinner later.

She sighed as she set down her packages in order to retrieve her keys
and unlock the door.  That would have been easier if she had
managed to talk Snape into buying a microwave, of course.  But
although he had seemed much more knowledgeable about Muggle living than
she would ever have dreamed, he had scowled and looked deeply
suspicious when she mentioned the
possibility of buying such an appliance.

As she slipped the key into the lock, she smiled at hearing Jaques
voice immediately squawk from inside the flat.

\"Come in!  Come in!\" he screeched.

Bending down to pick up her bags, she kicked the door open with her
foot and cooed:  \"How\'s my big boy?\"

\"I shall assume,\" answered a distinctively rich and slightly ominous
baritone,
\"That your remark is not directed towards me?\"