A Little Christmas Magic
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Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
9,989
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17
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Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
9,989
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Harry Potter fandom and am making no money from writing this fanfiction.
The Business of Christmas
Chapter 2 ~ The Business of Christmas
Soon, Mrs. Claus had Snape seated, the work bench cleared of toys in front of him and his cloak hung neatly near the crackling fire. A plate of still warm gingerbread cookies and a cup of rich, dark cocoa rested in front of him.
”I added a little bourbon to the cocoa, professor,” she said, hovering over him like a smitten brood hen, “Just to take the edge off,”
Snape sipped the cocoa delicately.
”It’s delicious, Mrs. Claus. The best I’ve ever had,” he responded, setting the cup down and taking a bite of a gingerbread cookie. “And these gingerbread cookies . . . they are to die for.”
Mrs. Claus smiled at him brightly.
”Ahem,” Hermione said with a frown, clearing her throat. She was still wrapped up in her winter garb, and there were no cookies to be seen. The House Elves were quietly looking at all the unfinished toys and practically trembling to get started. Both Snape and Mrs. Claus looked at the Charms mistress as if she and the Elves had appeared from thin air. But it was clear to Hermione by the mirth in Snape’s dark eyes he was well aware of her presence.
”May I help you?” Mrs. Claus asked her with a puzzled look.
“Ah, yes. Mrs. Claus, we brought the House Elves so they could complete the work of your sick elves,” she said a bit curtly. “What’s wrong with them?”
”They have Christmas fever. It comes of overwork and is a very nasty illness. They all have high temperatures and are running at both ends, if you know what I mean. This is the worst case I’ve seen in over three centuries,” Mrs. Claus said, then looked at Snape.
”Would you like a little more cocoa, professor?”
”Yes, please.”
Once again, Mrs. Claus flounced out of the workshop. The moment she cleared the door, Hermione was all over Snape.
“Look at you, sucking up to Mrs. Claus,” she seethed. “Taking advantage of an old woman. You should be ashamed of yourself!”
”I believe it is Mrs. Claus who is sucking up to me,” he responded. “I wouldn’t want to offend her. She is merely being hospitable. Don’t tell me your robes are in a twist because you don’t have cookies and chocolate.”
”No, they’re not in a twist because of that,” Hermione hissed. “We’re here for a reason, not to witness a one-wizard tea party.”
Snape looked around the work bench exaggeratedly.
”I see no tea,” he observed.
Hermione colored and was about to say something very nasty when a House Elf piped up, “When does we work?”
Hermione looked back at the Elves, who were rising up and down on their curly-toed feet impatiently.
”Soon,” she said, turning back to Snape. Mrs. Claus entered, carrying two steaming mugs of cocoa and a huge plate of gingerbread cookies. She set the plate in front of the professor, then put down the cups. She looked at Hermione apologetically.
”I’m so sorry, dear. Please, hang up your coat, sit down and have some cookies and cocoa,” the old woman said.
”Thank you,” Hermione said stiffly, walking over to the coat rack and removing her garments. The House Elves looked up at Mrs.Claus, full of trepidation.
”I’m very sorry, Elves,” she said softly as she cleared a space for Hermione to eat comfortably. “It was a case of mistaken identity, and I must confess, I do have a bit of PTS concerning that chapter in my husband’s life. Please, have a cookie.”
The House Elves politely took one cookie each, then sat on the floor quietly as Hermione returned to the table and sat down. She took a sip of the cocoa, then frowned a little. Clearly, there was no bourbon in hers.
“Where is Mr. Claus?” Snape inquired. “Is he taken ill as well?”
”Oh, no. Nicholas is out bartering,” Mrs. Claus said a bit bitterly. “That’s what he does all year. Barter, barter, barter. For materials, for products . . . I hardly get a chance to see him. He’s home maybe two days a week normally, and at this time of year, he’s gone for weeks at a time. I have to handle everything around here. Keeping the cabins clean, feeding the elves, the laundry, baking cookies, tending to the bonbon trees, the Thanksgiving turkeys and the Rainbow Chickens. It’s work, work, work all the time.”
”Rainbow chickens? Thanksgiving turkeys?” Hermione repeated as Snape looked on with interest.
”Oh, yes. We raise the most succulent Thanksgiving turkeys here all year, then Nicholas slaughters them, I clean them and then they’re flash frozen to be sold all around the world under brand names you might recognize . . .”
”Names like what?”
Mrs. Claus tittered.
”Oh, we can’t divulge that. The companies that sell our goods have it in their contract that we won’t ever say. They don’t believe it would be good for business for the public to know they are eating turkeys slaughtered by Father Christmas. Bad for the whole Christmasy image of the season, don’t you know.”
Yes, an ax-wielding Santa wasn’t a popular Yule symbol with the masses, as many B-movie makers found out in the ‘70’s.
“But, I don’t understand. Why raise Thanksgiving turkeys? Father Christmas has always been about Christmas,” Hermione pressed.
“Christmas isn’t free,” Mrs. Claus said stiffly. “We have to earn an income to pay the elves, maintain the reindeer, and get materials for toys. As well as buy the more modern technology in bulk. How do you think we pay for all this?”
Mrs. Claus sounded as if she thought Hermione was a bit thick.
”I really didn’t think about it. It’s not something that comes up in ordinary conversations,” Hermione said rather lamely. Snape looked delighted at her consternation.
“And the rainbow chickens?” Snape inquired. Mrs. Claus turned and beamed at him.
“Those are our laying hens. They lay rainbow colored Easter Eggs,” she told him.
”Oh, good Grindelows,” Hermione muttered under her breath.
Mrs. Claus spun on her, frowning.
”Did you have something to say, Miss . . . .Miss . . ..”
”Hermione Granger,” Hermione replied. “And no, I don’t have anything to say.”
“A true Christmas miracle,” Snape quipped.
Hermione glowered at him.
”Why don’t you make yourself useful and check on the elves? Maybe you can do something for them,” Hermione suggested tightly.
Snape delicately dabbed at his thin lips with a brightly colored cloth Christmas napkin and rose, towering over Mrs. Claus, who was about five feet tall. He gallantly caught hold of her plump hand and brought it to his lips tenderly.
“Thank you, Mrs. Claus. Truly a delightful repast,” he said softly, looking into her somewhat glazed blue eyes. She involuntarily brought her hand to her breast in reaction.
”Oh, you’re very welcome, professor Snape. I will be serving dinner in a few hours,” she replied.
Snape walked over to the coat rack and removed his heavy robes and cloak, slipping them on and quickly buttoning the long line of fasteners lining the front.
“Oh, all those beautiful buttons,” Mrs. Claus gushed softly, then leaned toward Hermione.
“Nicholas only has –three,” she admitted. She sounded rather disappointed.
Both of Hermione’s eyebrows rose. Button envy?
Merlin’s pubes.
“Perhaps, I should go with you, professor Snape,” Mrs. Claus offered. Hermione frowned. She’d had enough of this Snapefest.
“Mrs. Claus, you really need to clue us in on how to proceed here. The Headmistress sent the House Elves to be of assistance, but they can’t assist if you don’t tell us what we need to do. Professor Snape knows his way around sick people, believe me,” she said. “He made a living of it once.”
Snape frowned at her. The little so-and-so.
“Yes, Mrs. Clause. Just tell me which cabin the elves are in. I’ll take it from there,” he said.
Although she looked very disappointed, Mrs. Claus told Snape where to go. Hermione would have liked to tell him where to go as well, and it would have been much hotter than an elf’s cabin.
“Thank you, Mrs. Claus,” Snape said, then exited the toy shop.
Mrs. Claus then looked at Hermione darkly.
”All right. Let’s get to work,” she said tightly.
Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Claus would prefer she wasn’t there at all.
******************************
Snape followed the nauseatingly bright strings of lights past several cabins until he came to the right one. Low moans and groans confirmed he had found his mark. Before he entered, he noticed another cabin. It was set off a distance from the rest of the cabins, undecorated and in rather ill repair. It looked –unwelcoming.
He found he liked it immediately.
***********************************
A/N: Yay! Another chapter. I did some research on the Clauses, trying to find out Mrs. Claus’ name. I did, in a way. The Thanksgiving Turkeys AND the Rainbow Chickens are actually part of the Christmas lore. Pretty cool, eh? There is a lot of lore, so I picked out what I liked. I’m so glad I was able to do another chapter. :) Thanks so much for reading. ****
Soon, Mrs. Claus had Snape seated, the work bench cleared of toys in front of him and his cloak hung neatly near the crackling fire. A plate of still warm gingerbread cookies and a cup of rich, dark cocoa rested in front of him.
”I added a little bourbon to the cocoa, professor,” she said, hovering over him like a smitten brood hen, “Just to take the edge off,”
Snape sipped the cocoa delicately.
”It’s delicious, Mrs. Claus. The best I’ve ever had,” he responded, setting the cup down and taking a bite of a gingerbread cookie. “And these gingerbread cookies . . . they are to die for.”
Mrs. Claus smiled at him brightly.
”Ahem,” Hermione said with a frown, clearing her throat. She was still wrapped up in her winter garb, and there were no cookies to be seen. The House Elves were quietly looking at all the unfinished toys and practically trembling to get started. Both Snape and Mrs. Claus looked at the Charms mistress as if she and the Elves had appeared from thin air. But it was clear to Hermione by the mirth in Snape’s dark eyes he was well aware of her presence.
”May I help you?” Mrs. Claus asked her with a puzzled look.
“Ah, yes. Mrs. Claus, we brought the House Elves so they could complete the work of your sick elves,” she said a bit curtly. “What’s wrong with them?”
”They have Christmas fever. It comes of overwork and is a very nasty illness. They all have high temperatures and are running at both ends, if you know what I mean. This is the worst case I’ve seen in over three centuries,” Mrs. Claus said, then looked at Snape.
”Would you like a little more cocoa, professor?”
”Yes, please.”
Once again, Mrs. Claus flounced out of the workshop. The moment she cleared the door, Hermione was all over Snape.
“Look at you, sucking up to Mrs. Claus,” she seethed. “Taking advantage of an old woman. You should be ashamed of yourself!”
”I believe it is Mrs. Claus who is sucking up to me,” he responded. “I wouldn’t want to offend her. She is merely being hospitable. Don’t tell me your robes are in a twist because you don’t have cookies and chocolate.”
”No, they’re not in a twist because of that,” Hermione hissed. “We’re here for a reason, not to witness a one-wizard tea party.”
Snape looked around the work bench exaggeratedly.
”I see no tea,” he observed.
Hermione colored and was about to say something very nasty when a House Elf piped up, “When does we work?”
Hermione looked back at the Elves, who were rising up and down on their curly-toed feet impatiently.
”Soon,” she said, turning back to Snape. Mrs. Claus entered, carrying two steaming mugs of cocoa and a huge plate of gingerbread cookies. She set the plate in front of the professor, then put down the cups. She looked at Hermione apologetically.
”I’m so sorry, dear. Please, hang up your coat, sit down and have some cookies and cocoa,” the old woman said.
”Thank you,” Hermione said stiffly, walking over to the coat rack and removing her garments. The House Elves looked up at Mrs.Claus, full of trepidation.
”I’m very sorry, Elves,” she said softly as she cleared a space for Hermione to eat comfortably. “It was a case of mistaken identity, and I must confess, I do have a bit of PTS concerning that chapter in my husband’s life. Please, have a cookie.”
The House Elves politely took one cookie each, then sat on the floor quietly as Hermione returned to the table and sat down. She took a sip of the cocoa, then frowned a little. Clearly, there was no bourbon in hers.
“Where is Mr. Claus?” Snape inquired. “Is he taken ill as well?”
”Oh, no. Nicholas is out bartering,” Mrs. Claus said a bit bitterly. “That’s what he does all year. Barter, barter, barter. For materials, for products . . . I hardly get a chance to see him. He’s home maybe two days a week normally, and at this time of year, he’s gone for weeks at a time. I have to handle everything around here. Keeping the cabins clean, feeding the elves, the laundry, baking cookies, tending to the bonbon trees, the Thanksgiving turkeys and the Rainbow Chickens. It’s work, work, work all the time.”
”Rainbow chickens? Thanksgiving turkeys?” Hermione repeated as Snape looked on with interest.
”Oh, yes. We raise the most succulent Thanksgiving turkeys here all year, then Nicholas slaughters them, I clean them and then they’re flash frozen to be sold all around the world under brand names you might recognize . . .”
”Names like what?”
Mrs. Claus tittered.
”Oh, we can’t divulge that. The companies that sell our goods have it in their contract that we won’t ever say. They don’t believe it would be good for business for the public to know they are eating turkeys slaughtered by Father Christmas. Bad for the whole Christmasy image of the season, don’t you know.”
Yes, an ax-wielding Santa wasn’t a popular Yule symbol with the masses, as many B-movie makers found out in the ‘70’s.
“But, I don’t understand. Why raise Thanksgiving turkeys? Father Christmas has always been about Christmas,” Hermione pressed.
“Christmas isn’t free,” Mrs. Claus said stiffly. “We have to earn an income to pay the elves, maintain the reindeer, and get materials for toys. As well as buy the more modern technology in bulk. How do you think we pay for all this?”
Mrs. Claus sounded as if she thought Hermione was a bit thick.
”I really didn’t think about it. It’s not something that comes up in ordinary conversations,” Hermione said rather lamely. Snape looked delighted at her consternation.
“And the rainbow chickens?” Snape inquired. Mrs. Claus turned and beamed at him.
“Those are our laying hens. They lay rainbow colored Easter Eggs,” she told him.
”Oh, good Grindelows,” Hermione muttered under her breath.
Mrs. Claus spun on her, frowning.
”Did you have something to say, Miss . . . .Miss . . ..”
”Hermione Granger,” Hermione replied. “And no, I don’t have anything to say.”
“A true Christmas miracle,” Snape quipped.
Hermione glowered at him.
”Why don’t you make yourself useful and check on the elves? Maybe you can do something for them,” Hermione suggested tightly.
Snape delicately dabbed at his thin lips with a brightly colored cloth Christmas napkin and rose, towering over Mrs. Claus, who was about five feet tall. He gallantly caught hold of her plump hand and brought it to his lips tenderly.
“Thank you, Mrs. Claus. Truly a delightful repast,” he said softly, looking into her somewhat glazed blue eyes. She involuntarily brought her hand to her breast in reaction.
”Oh, you’re very welcome, professor Snape. I will be serving dinner in a few hours,” she replied.
Snape walked over to the coat rack and removed his heavy robes and cloak, slipping them on and quickly buttoning the long line of fasteners lining the front.
“Oh, all those beautiful buttons,” Mrs. Claus gushed softly, then leaned toward Hermione.
“Nicholas only has –three,” she admitted. She sounded rather disappointed.
Both of Hermione’s eyebrows rose. Button envy?
Merlin’s pubes.
“Perhaps, I should go with you, professor Snape,” Mrs. Claus offered. Hermione frowned. She’d had enough of this Snapefest.
“Mrs. Claus, you really need to clue us in on how to proceed here. The Headmistress sent the House Elves to be of assistance, but they can’t assist if you don’t tell us what we need to do. Professor Snape knows his way around sick people, believe me,” she said. “He made a living of it once.”
Snape frowned at her. The little so-and-so.
“Yes, Mrs. Clause. Just tell me which cabin the elves are in. I’ll take it from there,” he said.
Although she looked very disappointed, Mrs. Claus told Snape where to go. Hermione would have liked to tell him where to go as well, and it would have been much hotter than an elf’s cabin.
“Thank you, Mrs. Claus,” Snape said, then exited the toy shop.
Mrs. Claus then looked at Hermione darkly.
”All right. Let’s get to work,” she said tightly.
Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Claus would prefer she wasn’t there at all.
******************************
Snape followed the nauseatingly bright strings of lights past several cabins until he came to the right one. Low moans and groans confirmed he had found his mark. Before he entered, he noticed another cabin. It was set off a distance from the rest of the cabins, undecorated and in rather ill repair. It looked –unwelcoming.
He found he liked it immediately.
***********************************
A/N: Yay! Another chapter. I did some research on the Clauses, trying to find out Mrs. Claus’ name. I did, in a way. The Thanksgiving Turkeys AND the Rainbow Chickens are actually part of the Christmas lore. Pretty cool, eh? There is a lot of lore, so I picked out what I liked. I’m so glad I was able to do another chapter. :) Thanks so much for reading. ****