Merry XXXmas, Professor Snape

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 2 ~ Strange Gifts and Someone Drops In

Professor Snape was about to reply to the witch, when she looked at her watch and an expression of abject horror came over her face.

“I’ve got to go, Professor. Father Christmas is about to leave and I haven’t told him what I want for Christmas. I’ll see you later,” she said.

And just like that she bounced down the corridor and was gone.

The Professor blinked after her for a few moments. How could she just leave like that after what she’d done? What she insinuated? Scowling, Snape opened the door to his office and walked in. Peace at last. But he wasn’t feeling very peaceful now.

Miss Granger had definitely made a pass at him. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened, or if it ever had.

He wasn’t a good looking man, being tall and pale with a rather large nose and lank black shoulder length hair. He’d had some work done on his teeth recently. They were straightened and whitened. But no one really noticed that. He never smiled. A smirk was the best effort he made. He did have rather intense black eyes and long black lashes, and a full, sensuous mouth, but who noticed things like that when set in a face like his?

His body was decent. He worked out daily, mostly to battle stress, but no one knew that. He kept it hidden under his robes. His demeanor was rather cold, sarcastic and distant. He was also downright nasty most of the time, a result of too many applications of Cruciatus curses by the Dark Lord, not to mention the occasional whippings he received while hanging from his wrists a foot off the floor.

He didn’t have much money, although he did have a nice little two-bedroom home in Little Hangelton. He was hardly ever there.

Why would the young witch be interested in someone like him? She was half his age. Perhaps it was hero worship. She knew he worked for the Order and was a double agent. But a James Bond he was not. He knew a little about her background. Maybe she had a thing for older men like her mother did. Her father was twenty years her mother’s senior. He had eighteen years on Miss Granger.

The girl’s directness shocked him. But of course, she knew nothing about seduction or womanly wiles. In her logical mind she probably thought a direct approach was the best approach. But to kiss him, announce she was the age of consent and waggle her eyebrows at him suggestively? Merlin’s plaited beard.

Snape pushed the torch on the far left of the office wall. A section of the wall slid up and he walked through into his study and over to his liquor cabinet. He removed a bottle of brandy and a snifter, poured himself a healthy drink, carried it over to one of two armchairs set in front of the fireplace and took a seat.

The Professor’s mind idly wandered to the kiss itself, and how Miss Granger had thrown herself on him. He had wrapped his arms around her reflexively. She certainly was a curvaceous young thing. Soft too. Definitely uninhibited, as the innocent usually are. He felt a little swell in his lower regions.

“Not good Professor,” he thought to himself as he sipped his brandy.

His eyes shifted to the large pile of parchments on his study desk. He had to mark them. A fine way to spend Christmas Eve. Alone and using a full bottle of red ink on student papers. Well, at least he had managed to get out of attending Voldemort’s holiday banquet/revel.

Contrary to popular belief, the Dark Lord did eat like everybody else, though he preferred medieval-type feasting where the bones were flung everywhere, and everyone ate like pigs. After a rather revolting meal, the muggle women were brought in. The Professor shuddered. He hated the revels. Insane orgies of rape and murder. He drank an impotence potion every time he was summoned, to make sure he didn’t have to participate in the Dark Lord’s twisted ideas of entertainment. Not that anything about the revels aroused him.

Stripping unwilling women and parading them about in tears was not his cup of tea, no matter how delicious their attributes. Add to that the knowledge that they wouldn’t survive the night, and you had the perfect combination conducive to a limp dick. At least in his case. He hadn’t had sex in years. His was a life of self-enforced celibacy.

He used to sneak to the brothel in Knockturn alley, but had a close call and was almost found out by another deatheater. He explained that he was a voyeur, and simply watched others perform. The lie worked. That was several years ago, and he hadn’t returned to the brothel since.

His thoughts returned to the seventh year. She had seemed sincere. Miss Granger didn’t seem to have a cruel bone in her supple young body. Supple? Did he just refer to the witch as supple?

Circe’s sweet pigs.

She wasn’t cruel, but over the years she had done some pretty Slytherin-like acts. Punching Draco in the face. Trapping Rita Skeeter in a jar when she was a transformed beetle and holding her hostage. Covering a snitch’s face in terrible boils. Leading Professor Umbridge to a herd of angry centaurs that carried her away. Yes, Miss Granger had a dark side all right. The Professor smirked.

Still he doubted she would be so cruel as to lead him on for a joke. She had always been a rather straightforward young woman. Young woman? Up to this point he had always thought of her as a girl. This did not bode well. He had been alone too long.

He decided to push Miss Granger out of his mind and tackle the stack of parchments he had to grade. He finished his drink and got right on it.

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After spending several hours meticulously going over the rather tragic work of his students, the Professor retired. He put on his white nightshirt and cap, and crawled into bed, exhausted. He awoke several hours later when he thought he heard deep laughter coming from his study. He opened his eyes and there was a bright glow shining into his bedroom. Cautiously, he arose from his bed and grabbed his wand. Who was in his study? He made sure to securely ward his rooms before retiring. The Professor walked to his bedroom door and peeked out, but the glow was so bright, he couldn’t see anything. It seemed to radiate from something rather large in the center of his study.

The Professor continued to squint. The glow began to slowly fade to reveal a rather large and gaudily wrapped Christmas present. He looked about the study for any sign of who might have left it. He noticed his fire had long gone out. He approached the present slowly, his black eyes sharp for any sign of danger. The present was huge, with a great red bow. There was a tag on it. He read it.

To Professor Severus Snape. Happyy Christmas! F.C.

F.C.? Who in the world was F.C.?

He looked the package over, and cast a detection spell to see if it was dangerous. It didn’t register as something potentially harmful. He tried a revealing spell, but couldn’t see inside the present. Obviously it was charmed so the only way to see what was inside was to open it.

He started to pull the bow, when behind him he heard a “foomp!” and a squeal. The Professor spun around and gaped at his fireplace as a rather sooty Hermione Granger crawled out of it, coughing.

“Miss Granger??” he asked, stunned. “What are you doing in my floo? What are you doing in my study, for that matter?”

Hermione brushed herself off.

“I don’t know Professor,” she said, looking at him with wide, amber eyes. Then they swept over him.

“You look like Ebenezer Scrooge,” she observed.

“Really?” the Professor responded. “And what do you look like, Miss Granger? Other than a refugee from Father Christmas’ workshop, that is.”

Hermione looked down at herself and gasped.

She was dressed in a long green shirt that barely covered her bottom, cinched at the waist with a wide green belt with a wide red buckle. A white fluffy fringe encircled the bottom of it. On her head sat a green elf cap, flopping over to the side, also fringed and with a large white puffball on the tip of it. She even had green slippers with obscenely curled toes on. Her legs were bare from the top of her thighs on down and the shirt was low cut, showing ample cleavage.

“I do look like an elf!” she said, “A very underdressed elf.”

She looked up at the Professor, who was in a kind of daze. Her amber eyes shifted to the present.

“What’s that?” she asked, looking at the large box curiously.

“I don’t know. A present for me,” he said, his black eyes never leaving her. She was certainly dressed provocatively. Not much left to the imagination at all. She looked at him.

“I think I’m dreaming,” she said. “I must be dreaming.”

Snape hoped he was dreaming too. This was all too strange to be actually happening.

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A/N: Well, that was a rather strange turn of events. I bet you all thought Hermione was in that box, didn’t you? Lol. Well, no. You should know me better than that. :::eg::: But what IS in the big box? Hmm. Maybe the next chapter will tell. Please review.