A Christmas Gift

Disclaimer: See the pretty blonde British woman. Characters, world, all hers. Smut? All mine. Plot. That\'s mine too.

December 1997

The Yule Ball had been cancelled due to the many attacks on Hogsmeade within the last two months. None of the professors had the time or the inclination to plan a party, despite the fact that it was clearly needed. And so it was decided that there would be a party during the Christmas holidays. There would be far more students at Hogwarts this year than ever before, as many parents felt their children would be safest at the school instead of attempting the train ride home. Dumbledore concurred. He was, in fact, highly looking forward to this particular party. There were times when being an eleme had had it’s advantages. He was looking forward to seeing exactly how the events of that evening would play out.

Severus Snape, looking out at the students in his class diligently working on the surprise test he had given them, positively seethed with loathing. Not only would that impossible brat Potter be here again during the holiday season, but more than half the students would be present as well. As if he didn’t have enough to deal with during the school year, now he would be saddled with these arrogant dunderheads during what he thought of as ‘his time’. Add to that the additional insult of that blasted party Albus was continuously on about. There was no help for it. With so many students in residence, there was no way that he could simply avoid the festivities as he was won’t to do. He would be called on to supervise and, Merlin help him, participate in the festivities. A snarl wormed its way unto his face as he thought about his quiet disrupted by some hair-brained plan of Albus’. Blast the man, he never could leave well enough alone. Eyes sweeping the room again, they came to rest on the bane of his existence, who for some odd reason, was staring directly at him. Realizing that his professor was gazing at him, Harry flushed and hastily looked away. ‘Whatever is wrong with the boy now,’ Snape wondered.

Harry was mortified. He couldn’t believe he had been caught staring at his Potions professor. So far he had been good at keeping his glances and stares relatively unnoticed. Hermione had noticed of course, but there was very little that was missed by that one. He wouldn’t be surprised if she already knew how he felt about the man. Harry was certain that the entire situation was hopeless. Snape couldn’t stand him. Loathed the very sight of him thanks to his father. The only time Harry ever thought ill of his parent was when confronted by the obvious loathing in Snape’s eyes when he looked at him or told him he was ‘just like his father’. He wasn’t. He was only Harry Potter, despite the stupidity of the Boy Who Lived title. Harry sighed. It didn’t matter. Nothing he did would ever make the man see him as anything but James Potter’s son. It was his last year at Hogwarts and Harry had run out of ideas on how to bring himself to the Potion Master’s attention in a positive light. All he could see a rea reckless child, not the person Harry was. And that was when he managed to see past Harry being James’ son. Looking up briefly at the dark head bent over scrolls at the desk, Harry once again wondered what it would be like if he could make Snape see him as he was. Make him notice him. What it would be like to hold him and be held by him. To kiss him. To touch him. Feeling his cheeks heat up again, Harry lowered his head before anyone else could catch him staring.

***

Hermione watched Harry watching Snape, a thoughtful expression in her eyes. Nodding her head decisively, she went back to the parchment in front of her, determined to do whatever she could to help her friend.

***

Sitting next to Ron on the sofa in front of the common room fireplace, Hermione took a slow and deep breath. Ron wasn’t going to like this, but for her plan to work, she had to have his help. Harry had gone up to bed on the pretext of being tired, but she knew it was mainly to give them a chance to be alone. They had been dating for a year now, but time alone still wasn’t easy to come by. Harry gave the opportunity as much as he could, and although she appreciated it, she worried about him. He needed someone of his own, and if he wanted Snape, she was going to help him get him.

“Ron,” she began, “I need to talk to you about something.”

Ron tensed. His girlfriend sounded much more serious than he’d heard her sound in a while. The last time she had sounded like that had been when…

“Harry’s okay isn’t he?” he asked worriedly.

“Well, sort of…”

That wasn’t good. Oh damn, something was really wrong. “What is it ‘Mione?”

“Have you noticed anything different about Harry lately?”

“No.”

“So you haven’t seen him doing anything odd, like staring at anyone?” Careful girl. You don’t want him flying off the handle.
n stn started to relax. This didn’t sound like it involved death or anything, so it couldn’t be that bad could it?

“What is it, love? Just say it.”

Taking another deep breath, Hermione did just that and more. “I think Harry is in love with Snape and I think we should help them get together,” she said, running it all together quickly.

“WHAT?!” Ron bellowed.

“Ron calm down!”

“How can I calm down?” he raged, voice still significantly lower. “You just said my best mate’s in love with that…that greasy git!”

Hermione sighed. “Really Ron, Snape isn’t that bad and…”

“Isn’t that bad?” Ron interrupted. “Moine the man’s a menace. He’s a bloody nightmare!”

Hermione stiffened slightly and pulled away from Ron. “I seem to recall that being said about me as well.”

Uh oh. Damn. I shouldn’t have said that. “Come on Moine, you know what I mean.”

“Indeed. I know exactly what you mean. If you won’t help me then I’ll find some one who will. Someone who isn’t blinded by his prejudices.”

“Ah come one Mione,” Ron cajoled, “this is Snape we’re talking about and…”

“And if you were really Harry’s best mate I should think you woulnt hnt him happy above all else.”

“I do want him happy but…”

Hermione cut him off again. “Fine Ron,” she said standing. “I’ll get help from someone who cares more about Harry than his own feelings.” She picked up her book bag and stalked off towards the girls dormitories, anger in every line of her rigid body.

“Hermione, love, I’m sorry,” Ron began.

“Good night Ronald Weasley. I have nothing further to say to you,” she replied, not stopping once in her march up the stairs.

Bugger! I’ve done it this time. But Snape? Ewww.

Ron slowly turned towards the boys dormitory, deciding he’d better think about this some and come to a decision before he saw his girlfriend the next morning. She was awful good at the silent treatment, and that meant no kisses either. Ron sighed. It was gonna be a long night.

***

The next morning found Harry up well before his dorm mates and listlessly skipping stones along the frozen surface. It was snowing lightly and he hoped it would stick around for Christmas. Hogwarts was the only place he had ever enjoyed the holiday, even when he was being subjected to sour looks from Snape and vicious glances from the other students. Today was the last day of the term before the holidays, and he still hadn’t been able to complete his shopping. Ron and Hermione would be here this Christmas, so he wouldn’t be totally alone, but he couldn’t help wishing they were going home so he could moon over Severus in private.

He gig lig lightly, watching his breathe appear in the cold air. Bet he’d love to know I call him that. Bet he’d die if he knew. I’m sure I’m just ‘Potter’ to him though. A bitter smile curved Harry’s lips as he turned and trudged slowly towards the castle. This is hopeless. He’d never want me, what could I have to offer him? Besides, he hates me.

So lost in his own world was he that he never noticed the dark figure observing his every move.

Severus Snape had taken to shadowing the boy some time during his fifth ye Eve Ever since his godfather had died, something in the boy had changed. It was like the spark had gone out of the boy, like something inside him had died. He had been so quiet after that, so very reserved. It was unnatural. Even the anger he had displayed before would have been preferable to the way he acted now. He had even quit playing Quidittch, not that Snape was all that fond of the game, but he knew Potter was, and that had shocked him to the core. All he had been able to glean about that was what little McGonagall shared at the staff meeting. According to her, the boy had simply decided he no longer wished to play, and refused to give a reason why. Apparently, his friends had gotten no further than McGonagall herself did. So, he had taken to watching the boy; at first to be sure that he posed no danger to himself, but then just out of sheer curiosity. The fact that the boy had grown into his body, becoming a beautiful and attractive young man had nothing to do with it. Not that Severus found him attractive at all. So what if his skin looked like the richest cream and would probably be just as soft to thuch.uch. So what if the boy was technically an adult now, past the age of consent, and could be with whom he wished.

It’s not as if he would ever want to be with me. Severus was startled. What? Where the hell did that come from? The cold must be affecting my ability to think.

Folding his cloak more securely about his long frame, Severus entered the castle and headed for the Great Hall, the need for coffee and the longing in his thoughts weighing heavily on hind. nd. He couldn’t help glancing at Potter as he took his seat at the High Table. The boy looked pale, and not a little depressed. His cronies sat across from him, Granger lookcroscross and Weasley looking apologetic. He smiled. Obviously the boy had done something to hack the girl off. He lost his smile. The only other thing that hacked her off more than the fact her boyfriend didn’t study was Harry. When did I start thinking of him as Harry and not Potter? he asked himself in dismay. Glancing back at the boy again, he was surprised when his eyes met green orbs looking directly at him. He arched an eyebrow in enquiry, unaware his usual was sneer missing, and the boy’s eye widened as he suddenly blushed. Interesting that. He held the gaze until he felt himself beginning to flush and then turned away to find Albus regarding him with that bloody twinkle in his eye. The man knew something, but damned if he had any ideat iat it was this time. Looking back at the Gryffindor table, he caught Granger regarding him much as she would a new puzzle. He sneered slightly and the chit had the audacity to smile at him! Had the world gone mad while he slept? His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed themselves into a thin line. The girl simply looked from him to Harry and back again and smiled wider. This did not bode well for the day. Whatever is happening in that brain of hers? What is she thinking? Severus decided he really didn’t want to know. He focused on his breakfast and simply tuned every other thing, and person, out as he ate.

***

Double Potions was the first class of the day, and the only one that Hermione had with Ron and Harry. As they headed for the dungeons, Hermione sidled closer to Harry, glaring at Ron, and whispered “Have you got a gift for Snape for Christmas yet?”

Harry started and almost dropped the bag he was carrying as he looked sharply ate Hermione. “What did you say?” he asked.

“Have you got a gift for Snape yet?” As his eyes widened, she continued, “Come off it Harry. I know you have a thing for Snape. I’ve seen you watchiim. im. I’ve also seen him watching you,” she finished smugly.

“You have!” Harry shrieked, drawing the eyes of curious students behind them.

“Shh! Yes I have. I think we should talk about this later don’t you?”

“Umm, sure I guess.” Harry bit his lip.

“Relax Harry. I want to help.”

Harry glanced at her in shock but was prevented from responding as they were in front of the Potions classroom and he really didn’t want anyone to hear what they were discussing, particularly Snape.

The session passed fairly quickly, as they primarily reviewed what was learned during the week. Harry couldn’t get over Hermione’s comment about Snape watching him. When does he watch me? I’m always watching him and he never looks at me. Well, except when he’s glaring at me. She must have made a mistake. And so it went all class, Harry and his inner voice battling for supremacy. So it was no surprise that he managed to call unwanted attention to himself.

“Mr. Potter,” came the silken tones he loved from directly in front of him. “Perhaps you feel as though this class is beneath your notice, however, it behooves you to PAY ATTENTION!” he finished with a roar.

Harry flinched. I will not look up. He looked up, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Those gorgeous black eyes were furious. Bugger. “I’m sorry Professor. I haven’t been feeling quite myself lately.”

At that, the eyes softened a bit, but the voice was as silkily nasty as ever. “Detention Mr. Potter. You will report to my office after your last class. I would advise you not to be late.” He sneered for effect before turning and gliding back to his desk. Harry sighed and Hermione flashed him a quick look of sympathy, as did Ron.

“As it seems that not only Mr. Potter is suffering from a sufficient lack of brain cells to focus in the class it seems I have no other choice. Get out. Class dismissed.”

So saying, Snape swept out of the classroom towards his office to the sounds of excited chatter and chairs being pulled back. He simply couldn’t be bothered. There was no way he could teach the class as worried as he was. Bad enough the brat hadn’t been himself all year, but for him to admit it! Dear God what on earth was wrong with the boy. What the hell is wrong with me? Why the hell should I care? He means nothing to me. He studiously ignored the voice in the back of his head that pointed out that the exact opposite was true. Harry Potter meant quite a lot to him indeed.

While Harry drifted through the rest of his day, Severus determinedly did not think about Potter at all. He immersed himself in his experimental potion and thought about nothing else at all. He most definitely did not wonder if they boy would be all right in his other classes, nor did he wonder what he would say to the boy when he showed up to serve his detention. After all, it wasn’t as if he cared.

A timid knocking on his door caused him to look up in surprise. It was late afternoon and obviously time for Potter’s detention. What to do with the boy?

“Come,” he said, his melodious voice trickling through the oak door and tickling parts of Harry’s anatomy best left unnoticed.

The door opened slowly and for a minute, Harry just stood there, staring at the Potions Master.

“Well? Don’t just stand there, come in boy,” Snape snapped. As Harry closed the door he noticed that the boy seemed to be slimmer than normal. Wasn’t the boy eating? He gestured to the nearest chair and tried to figure out how to do this. Being gentle wasn’t completely abhorrent to his nature, it just wasn’t an aspect of himself he shared with many besides Albus (under duress only) and his godson. He might share that part of himself with a lover, but with his life the way it was the last relationship had ended well over ten years ago. And the boy certainly didn’t qualify for that. At least not yet, added a tratorious voice in the back of his head. Never, he argued. I do not bed students. No matter how attractive they are. Bugger! Realizing that he had yet to say anything and that the boy was fidgeting he said, much gentler than he intended to, “Perhaps Mr. Potter you would like to begin by telling me what was so important that you couldn’t focus on my lecture.”

Harry’s head flew up and his eyes met those of his Professor. There is no way I’m telling him that . “Um…well sir, ah…I’ve not really been feeling…”

“Yes, yes so you said. So what exactly is wrong with you Potter?” Severus interrupted, clearlyectiecti dif different answer.

I’m in love with a snarky, stubborn git who is twice my age and would likely laugh me to St. Mungo’s if he knew. Oh and by the way, did I mention that it’s you Professor? “Well sir, it’s um, sort of personal,” he said, hoping that would be enough.

Snape raised a querulous eyebrow. “Indeed? This wouldn’t have anything to do with…Black would it?” God he hated that mutt and the only sorrow he could find in the man’s death was Harry’s, er, Potter’s evident decline because of it.

“No sir. It’s a bit more…um, no it’s not Sirus.” The potions master was being very…gentle, but that could just be a way to get him to talk. After all, Harry thought, it’s not like he really cares or anything.

Snape couldn’t help wondering what the boy had been about to say but he wasn’t going to push. One last thing though. “You do realize that should you find yourself in need of an ear Mr. Potter, there are many who will oblige you. Even myself,” he finished, looking constipated as he said it.

Harry stared at the professor, shock written all over his face. Did he just say I could talk to him?

Snape sneered. “You needn’t look so surprised Potter. Despite appearances, I’m not a complete ogre. It’s not as if I expect you to actually talk to the greasy potions professor, I just felt I should offer. I’m sure Albus would approve,” he finished. Let the little fool think it was because of that meddling old man if he wished.

Of course, Harry thought. Dumbledore put him up to this. The mauldnuldn’t be near so nice on his own. It figures. Stupid. As if the man cared about me at all. “Of course Professor.”

Hiding his sigh of relief, Snape continued, “I need my potions ingredients inventoried. That will be your task. When you have completed it, you may leave.” So saying, he got up and glided back into his work room without a backward glance. It wouldn’t do for the boy to know he had feelings for him. He could just imagine the laughs he and his fellow Griffindors would have over that.

Sighing, Harry got up to follow the professor. Well at least he was nice, even if Dumbledore made him. At least now I know he’s capable of it. Entering the potions storeroom, he began his detention, his hyperactive imagination already supplying him with images Sev Severus Snape who was nice to him because he wanted to be and not because the Headmaster made him.