Happy Christmas Severus Snape: A Challenge Fic

I wondered into this wonderful collection of stories and thoroughly enjoyed myself, they were all fantastic, I wasted an evening I should have spent studying reading them all. Anyway now I am free of the confines of study and I was reading them again and got this bunny which would just not die! Another night, hopefully better spent.



I really must here thank profusely ~ HarryGinny4eva ~ whose entry Mistletoe and Wine was the *absolute* mother of this fic. Misreading it at first I thought your enchanted mistletoe moved with them rather than blocked them and well, this all came from that. I hope I have made it interesting and different enough to not appear like a blatant copy, but if seems too close to home I will happily take it down. Just thought I should post it since it’s written an’ all.



It’s a bit longer than some other entries but it just kept going as I’m doing now so I’m gonna shut up aside from wishing everyone a –==Very Merry Christmas!==–









~ Christmas Payback ~





The scowling glare that Severus Snape wore on his face cut a path through the crowded hallways of Hogwarts like a laser. Like the water parting for Moses, the culminated masses of students stepped aside to let him pass out of a mass sense of pure self-preservation.



His shoulders were set, his lithe frame pulled up to his full and imposing height. Around him the billowing storm of robes swirled as if by magic. His long hair was blown back from his face dramatically, the force of his forward momentum negating any need for a wind machine. His strides ate up the lengths of stone corridor.



The students he passed stared after him in open-mouthed fascination.



Above him, hovering less than a foot above his head and following after his every step with impressive persistence, was the biggest bunch of mistletoe many of them had ever seen. It looked unsafe, it was so large and swaying unwieldy above his head. From somewhere deep inside the core Christmas songs jangled out. Handfuls of red and gold glitter scattered out through the branches and fell down onto his shoulders, leaving a trail of sparkle behind him wherever he went. It was tied at the top with a large bow of streaming red and gold ribbons.



The students who were unfortunate enough to have Potions that day all took the most comprehensive notes any of them had ever written in their school careers. The intense almost-silence of scratching quills filled the dungeon room as lesson after lesson twenty or so pairs of eyes focus intently on the parchments directly in front of them. If any of them had glanced at another, if gazes had met for even a second the whole room would have erupted into a fit of uncontrolled laughter.



From the look on his face, the ramifications would be horrific. He seemed to leave no doubt that he would not hesitate to fail a whole class that day. All around them, echoing around the stone walls, the Christmas music jingled and jangled. Somehow, miraculously, the students kept their composure.



In the afternoon Peeves was hovering in a prime spot above the entrance hall, ready for a first-class view of the spectacle he had heard so much of during the day. When the ghost saw the dark Slytherin stalk below him in a scattering of golden glitter, however, he did nothing but stuff his fist in his mouth and slowly fade away from sight. Nearly-Headless Nick told others later that Peeves had “had to have a lie-down”, whatever that meant for a ghost.



The Great Hall was glittering with fantastic decorations, the usual twelve Christmas trees glinting and sparkling, the candles nestled in the branches giving off a soft, romantic glow. Above the tables garlands of pine and red ribbons hung gracefully, the tables were covered with rich red tablecloths. Everything looked warm and inviting. The house-elves had served a warm mulled punch and the spiced drink was making people merry.



Snape sat with his shoulders back but with his head dipped slightly. His eyes glared at a spot on the tablecloth in front of him. He sat for while, letting his mind wander from the babble of chatter in the hall before him. He knew they were talking about him – he could not deny that he was target impossible to miss today. Regardless, his stomach twisted slightly in the knowledge that he was the butt of such a painfully obvious joke. Rationally he knew he could not punish every single student in the room, but that didn’t stop him imagining doing it anyway.



He was broken from his deep concentration by the feel of a soft pair of lips planting a chaste and gentle kiss on his rough cheek, and his stomach twitched momentarily at the thought of her. When he turned his head, however, he was shocked to find himself face-to-face with the toothy, extremely wide grin of a blasted Gryffindor second-year boy with a death wish, it seemed. The boy had been rivalling the Weasley Twin’s reputation since he started, and he certainly had learnt to take to his heels in an impressive manner. The boy whipped away from the Teacher’s Table and back to his own spot at his House Table in the split second it took for the professor to recover from his shock, moving with such speed it looked like he had apparated.



The wave of cackling glee which filled the echoing hall was restrained somewhat by Snape leaping to his feet, but could not be stopped completely. Sporadic bouts of mirth rose up from here and there as he bumped his head on the gigantic hovering mass, which did not move quite quickly enough out of his way. The bump dislodged another shower of glitter and made the current jangly tune warble off key for a moment or two. On the Ravenclaw table, three girls in particular were so overwrought with giggles that just watching them brought a smile and a laugh to many of the students around them. The blonde in the middle clutched at her sides and slithered from view under the tablecloth, her uncontrolled squeaks still ringing out.



One face was not laughing or creased into a grin, however, and in the next moment a sweep of his trademark glare brought some semblance of calm back into the crowd before him as they took a collective breath, wondering if the little Gryffindor kid was in for it.



“Twenty points from Gryffindor,” Snape growled, before sitting back down. Laughter still bubbled up like springs though as the mass of mistletoe swooped back down to hover above him like the moon.



Snape kept his glare on the students as he stabbed a few things on his plate with his fork, lifting it to his mouth and chewing slowly. His hard scowl slipped a little a gained a slightly confused edge as his jaw worked slowly, an unpleasant and unexpected gritty crunch was present in his mouth when it should not be. His dark eyes slid down to his plate, where he took in with a grimace the large quantity of glitter which had been deposited onto his meal. There was a bank of the stuff hanging along the edge of his plate like a miniature and overly-festive snow drift. He spat his glittery mouthful into his napkin with as much decorum as one could muster in such a situation, and excused himself from the table.



As he stalked down the central aisle and out of the doors at the end of the hall, the Headmistress finally controlled her breathing, clutched at a stitch in her side and wiped a tear of laughter away from her wrinkled eye. Then she awarded thirty points to the brave young lad who had demonstrated their House’s courage with such style.



***



Snape heard the laughter return to the crowd of students eating in the hall once he had swooped out and the door had swung closed behind him, and he let out a small chuckle himself before regaining composure. It really had been only a very small chuckle.



He strutted down the corridor which lead down to his rooms in the dungeon, trying as he had done all day to look suave enough to counterbalance the absolute mountain of atrocity which swung above his head. The incessant jangling was torture to his thumping head, he could see the shadow of the thing looming over him in his peripheral vision every now and then.



In a fluid motion he swung round and, drawing his wand from his pocket, he blasted the glittering mound of festive torture away down the corridor in an explosion of green and silver sparks. It twirled away like a beach ball, leaving a pool of glitter whenever it bounced and hit the wall or floor. It came to a stop about thirty yards away, a warbling off-note or two chiming out before it was finally silent. Snape sneered a little, his thin lips twisting into a half smile for a moment. The sweetness of his victory was not long lasting, however, and his smile turned to open-mouthed horror as the ball of tangled branches and berries lurched and twitched before rising once again like the dead from their graves.



Snape’s face lost more colour as the lurching mass lifted itself from the floor fully and then moved at a slower yet just as determined pace towards it’s target. The blast had affected the thing somehow, and the tunes it was now spouting were macabre shadows of the former merry jingles, the notes were still sharp and brash, but clanged together in a horrific melody which was sinisterly twisted. Glitter poured from it like a river, piles of the stuff gathering behind it on the stone floor. Snape stood a moment transfixed, then felt the kick of fear of a relentlessly hunted prey, and fled down the corridor.



He knew she would not be in her rooms but since his route passed directly by her doorway he skidded to a stop in front of it and gave a sharp rap with his thin knuckles. His breath was slightly fast, he could see the warmth of it rising since the dungeon corridors were freezing in the middle of winter. He knocked once again on the door just to be sure of her absence, but even as he did so he heard more clearly the haunting Christmas massacre coming ever nearer. He turned his head slowly, his eyes wide, his mind horribly fixated on the sound, just in time to see the thing hover slowly round the corner and descend unstoppably down the corridor towards him. A chill ran down his spine.



He burst into a run again, his robes flying, his body still young and fit at forty and fast from his regular exercise. He veered off down a corridor to the right when he approached it, and clattered through the door into his NEWT level classroom. The benches were fewer, larger and further apart and supplied with more elaborate apparatus. He slammed the door shut behind him, leaning back against it for a moment to catch his breath. His long strides covered the width of the classroom in only two or three steps and he took one more through the door to the large supplies cupboard, which was propped open by a jar with a frog inside it. ‘A doorstop,’ he thought in a moment, not able to stop his sarcastic inner voice even in the heat of a chase. ‘Such a typically muggle-like solution.’



She was half-way up the step-ladder, the glasses she wore for close work pushed slightly down her nose as she picked vial after vial out of a large dusty rack full of them, glancing at the label and making a note before placing it back in a more organised place. She had been cataloguing the cupboard for a week now, but there was still plenty of work for the both of them over the holiday in order to get the neglected store back into any discernable order. It was her second year as his assistant and he had felt a twinge of guilt at unloading the brunt of such a tedious task on her, it was a waste of the copious talents he knew she possessed, but she had taken it into her stride, seemingly enjoying the days rifling through the dusty jars. It baffled him.



He did not move nearer to her now, but stood still watching her lost in her concentration. She wore plain black robes which still showed her beautiful shape, he could see the curve of her stockinged calf as she stood on tiptoes to reach along the shelf. He was almost instantly aroused by the way her body leant over as she stretched herself out, her soft hair falling down her back, her dark eyes behind her glasses. She saw him then and smiled warmly, returning almost instantly to her work. He found her particularly alluring in her glasses. They made her appear just a little older and that made him feel a bit less like a perverted old man. But he was chastising himself, it wasn’t perverted when she participated in and more importantly had initiated these games they had been playing. Today’s ‘game’ would be particularly memorable. Aside from everything else, she made him feel much younger.



“You set your hounds on me,” he said, moving now towards the bottom of the sturdy wooden ladder she was balanced on.



“Pardon?” She glanced down at him before finishing a note she was writing and placing the vial she held in her left hand back into the rack. She took the gloves she was wearing off and turned so she could see him more clearly.



Jangly horror filled the room and he felt the horribly alien feeling of glitter pouring down his neck and back as the cursed mistletoe appeared once more above his head in a cacophony of tinselled plenty. He did not know how it had resumed it’s position, but it’s presence was not so unpleasant when it was accompanied by her bright and uncontrolled laughter ringing in his ears. It was the first time he had seen her today. It took all of his efforts to keep his face straight in a scowl as he glared stonily at her, feeling the glitter gather on his quirked eyebrow.



“Could you at least stop the glitter?” he asked with a smooth voice, and she was able to practise some self-control long enough to stop the flurry of sparkles and disjointed notes with a charm or two. It was suddenly a silent but still menacing presence, hanging above him and in front of her since she was higher than him up the ladder.



“It *was* you, then,” he continued, although he had known from the moment he had opened his eyes to see the hateful thing hanging above him just who was to blame.



She nodded a little smugly as she stepped down to the next step on the ladder, bringing her nearer to his level but still slightly above him, giving her the advantage of stature he normally enjoyed himself. She looked down into his face with a wry smile and said, “It’s payback.”



“Payback?” he repeated as a question, his mind searching for answers.



“You don’t recall the toe-curling incidents of Valentine’s Day?” she asked dryly, and the searching look on his face turned to one of surprise.



“That was ten months ago!” he said with a little astonishment.



Hermione smiled like a cat again and raised a pointed finger, waggling it as she recited in her best know-it-all voice, “Revenge is a dish best served…”



“I know, I know,” he interrupted, shaking his head once or twice. “But that was a bet. I told you at the time, and since.” He was returning to long-protested excuses. “Besides that was only for an hour. This was the entire day. The *entire day*!” he repeated with emphasis. He looked into her deep brown eyes behind the dark rims of her glasses. His heart hammered, he wanted to touch her so badly.



“It was ruthless,” he continued. “Very Slytherin-esq.” His voice became even more sincere, he told her, “I know your habit of acting rashly when you’re angry.” He reached just one hand up and placed it gently on her back, guiding her slowly down to the next step of the ladder so her face was just a few inches lower than his own.



“Hermione,” he said her name slowly, sensuously as he looked into her eyes. “Tell me honestly, why did you do it?”



Her face had been creased in a continuous, wicked grin as he was talking and it widened now slightly before she smoothly replied. “So I can do this.”



Her left hand grabbed his collar, pulling him towards her as her right hand threaded into the hair behind his ear. Her face was only an inch away for his as her eyes swept over his face once more, finally meeting with own gaze as she moved forward and closed the last of the distance, her soft warm lips dragging across his own in a lingering moment of erotic bliss. A deep moan of desire rose up inside him and the moment his lips parted he felt her hand clutch more tightly at his hair, and the kiss was suddenly hot, deep and intoxicating. Her face was so soft and smooth, her mouth was hot and sweet. His hands felt the soft curves of her body, wound themselves in her fragrant hair. He groaned again when he ran his palm across her firm breast and felt her nipple hard for his touch in his hand, under her clothes.



Her hands were roving over his body too, clutching at him as she pulled him closer, pressing up against him in a wanton fashion. He closed his eyes and let the sensations wash over him, her sweet perfume became bright colours in his mind, the feel of her body against his was dreamlike, her breathy moans were thick and heady, clouding his mind like a drug. His skin was tingling at her touch, the moment was intense. He was more turned on than he had been in weeks, months. He wanted to take her right then, in a frenzied scattering of dusty bottles. He wanted to make her scream his name out into the echoing classroom.



As if she were reading his mind, he felt her shift away from him slightly, leaning back against the ladder so she could bring one of her long legs winding up, wrapping around his waist like a snake. Their lips were still drinking each other in in the same long, lingering kiss, but his mind was full of his intense need for her, the want inside him making him feel like a hormonal teenager. His long finger wound around the smooth calf, feeling the silken touch of the stockings, before he slid his hand slowly up her leg, up under her robes and skirt to her thigh. The lacy top of the nylon felt rough compared to the milky creaminess of the skin on her hip. She moaned again and ground against him, his hand feeling the perfectly fluid motion of her body. His desire was almost painful, the groan he made sounded animal.



But he wanted to savour the moment, he wanted to prolong it rather than rush it due to his eagerness. Using every part of his inner strength, he forced himself away from her, his body moving back slightly, his face pulling away from hers, not far but far enough. He opened his eyes and drank in her beautiful face, looking wickedly delicious after a thorough kiss. Her mouth was twisted into a smile he just wanted to lick. He stared for a moment at her long eyelashes lying across her smooth cheek before her big eyes opened and stared up at him. His own face broke into a dazzling smile.



He was just about to lean in and capture her lips once again when he was stopped by her hand threading up between them, acting like a barrier as she reached up to the mistletoe. She plucked one of the white berries from the bunch, and held it out for a moment for him to see clearly before flicking it away over his shoulder. She smiled.



“You have to pick a berry off for every kiss you receive under it.”



He grinned and pressed his body against hers again, he moved his face nearer to her own, but before he could kiss her again, he mimicked her barring motion, reaching up and plucking another berry. He copied her movements, even holding it out for her to see, and she quirked her eyebrow in a question as the berry bounced away.



“The McNabb boy stole a kiss on the cheek while I was distracted at dinner.” He answered truthfully, smiling at the shock on her face.



“He didn’t!” She protested, before breaking into laughter again, the sound filled his heart. “We could have used more balls like that four years ago,” she continued with an awed shake of her head. That boy really did have no fear.



He looked at the wonder in her face as her mind formed the scene, and he smiled at her while wrapping his long arms around her body. “Don’t give me up for a younger man,” he told her and she laughed at his joke, her hand brushing against his shoulder in a mock slap. But his insecurities were laid open in the warning. He still felt he was too old for her and although this was the third time he had weakened and allowed her advances, he refused to commit to her, refused to tie her up in complicated relationship. He refused to believe really, deep down in his soul, that an angel like her could actually want him, want to be with him.



The sight of her laughing made part of him feel like he wanted to cry, her innocence such a contrast to the horrible and depraved realities of his own past. The deep sound was infectious, however, and couldn’t help but be warmed by her, his defences melting like snow. She was smiling up at him now.



“It really followed you all day?” She asked him, wondering at the success of her invention.



“It was impressively tenacious,” he muttered to her, leaning into her. He couldn’t resist, he was dazzled by her intelligence and her beauty. He kissed her again, his dark stubble rasping against her chin. It didn’t last long but it set his senses whirling. It burned inside him.



He pulled back again, panting with breathlessness. He reached up until he felt another small berry, and picked it.



“McNabb did you a favour,” Hermione told him as she flashed another winning smile. “If that spell works like it’s supposed to, the mistletoe won’t disappear until you’ve picked every single berry.”



His mouth dropped open very slightly as his eyes rolled to the ceiling, taking in the bush of branches above him with what looked like hundreds of small white berries, nestling among the green foliage like pearls. He looked back down at the brilliant witch before him, both of them seemingly unable to anything but grin.



“It’s going to be a long night,” he told her. After a few seconds another white berry bounced on the stone floor.



“Severus?” she said as a leading question, as she reached up and picked another berry once their lips parted again. He revelled in the sound of his name on her lips, and said nothing, just holding her while he waited for the question that was coming.



“I know that you think I don’t want you, and I know you think you don’t deserve me.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she stopped him by kissing him softly and lingeringly again. They both reached up for a berry that time and Hermione picked one first, so Severus gave a wry smile and stole another quick peck before picking one also.



She laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him against her as she ground her hips again. “I *know* that’s what you think,” she emphasised her words with another sway of him movement, he couldn’t stop from moaning. “How can you think I don’t want you?” she asked with a seriousness in her voice, and he looked into her eyes and saw her desire and passion for him there. He knew that despite her wondrous intelligence and astute judge of character she had fallen for him. She was a woman, she didn’t think he was too old for her. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.



He kissed her again, loving the sounds of her moans in her throat, the warmth of her mouth. Her kisses were divine, her desperation matched his own. When he dragged himself away from her once again, he only remembered to pluck a berry as an afterthought, and lifted his arm up with an exaggerated grunt of exertion.



“Severus,” she said again, and she put her long feminine hands up on either side of his face, her palms warm on his jaw, her thumbs rubbing softly at the edges of his cheeks. She looked right into his eyes, and he stared deeply into her own. In the blurred edge of his vision, he could see her lips move.



“Spend Christmas with me, please, Severus?” she asked, and he stood still for a moment as the weight and warmth of the question settled around him.



“Miss Granger,” he said and then paused with a smile as she gave an affronted giggle, her palm gently slapping his shoulder once again at his playful use of her hated student tag. He caught her hand in his own and pulled it to his chest, his long slender fingers caressed and wound with hers. His other arm snaked round her back and pulled their bodies up against each other once again. He pressed the tip of his nose against hers and said, “It would be a pleasure.”



His lips moved over hers, a copy of her own lingering kisses. He was holding her so firmly she had to wriggle back and forth for a second or two to free her arm in order to pick another berry. Their echoing laughter filled the empty classroom beyond the open door.



He saw her jaw wobble a bit as she searched around her own mouth with her tongue, then she stuck it out and licked the end across her own index finger, looking down on whatever it was she had deposited there. Colour rose in his cheeks and rushed to other parts of his body as a wave of want washed over him. The sight of her tongue drove him wild. He was about to maul her when he was stopped by her hand being held out and her question, showing him her discovery.



“Glitter?”



“Mmm,” he said enigmatically as he leant forward, becoming hypnotised by her tongue once again. Her nimble fingers picked another berry.



He wrapped his other arm around her, his hand weaving into her soft and wavy hair. He kissed her throat before whispering in her ear.



“It gets *everywhere*.”