Duck Duck Goose

Disclaimer: We own nothing but the story concepts. All HP characters and similarities to the books are JK’s. Much to our disappointment.


Author’s Note:

5 points to your House (and you need to tell me which House you’re in) for each correctly identified RICKMANISM. This could be any part of the story which can include titles. Rickmanism means that it is something that Alan Rickman said in one of his films, and if we’re feeling particularly wicked, an interview. I’m doing this in another story as well and while 1 person guessed the right line, they guessed the source from something Rickman has never been in. So . . . if you want to play . . . in your review leave the quote, the source, and if it’s not an interview, who Rickman was portraying as well.

Love, MysticSlave


Chapter Nine: “And Call Off Christmas . . . ”


‘It was truly amazing,’ thought Severus, ‘that it was now December, nearly Christmas, and no one had discovered that Hermione had taken up residence in his body and vice versa.’ Severus was not one to give Christmas thanks, but he sent them sincerely to anyone who was listening that the Dark Lord hadn’t summoned him. ‘Merlin only knows what would happen with Hermione going in my stead.’




As the holidays drew closer, the Headmaster summoned both Severus and Hermione to his office. “My dears, I believe the time has come to decide what we shall do with you over the holidays.”

Hermione and Severus shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other, dreading what the bright twinkle in Albus’s eye would mean for them.

“Hermione, you always go home for Christmas, and as there is nothing of chief importance happening over this holiday, I have no reason to keep you here. Therefore, Severus,” he continued, directing his comments at the inexplicably frightened professor, “you shall stay with Mr. and Mrs. Granger for Christmas and New Year’s, and you Hermione,” will stay here.

Hermione gaped at him. Severus did not appreciate the look on his features, but was too flabbergasted to comment.

“Albus,” he hissed after a bit, “you cannot be serious! It is one thing to fool a bunch of mindless children, but you bloody well cannot expect me to fool Hermione’s parents over all of the winter holidays! And what if I get summoned?”

The Headmaster’s eyes grew even brighter. “I’ve already arranged it so that the Granger fireplace is connected to the Floo Network; specifically my fire place and your fire place, Severus. If a call should come, you can pop back over here and take care of things. You’re both very clever, I’m sure you will have no problems dealing with this,” Albus said confidently.




“Have you gone completely insane?” hissed Severus, now frantic with worry, past caring if the body he was living in these days gave away his anxiety. ‘Spend Christmas with her parents? He’s completely off his rocker! I’ll never be able to fool people who’ve known her all her life! And doesn’t that blasted twinkle ever leave his eyes?’

Although his . . . tantrum was nearly all held inside his mind, said emotions flashed through his eyes like a raging storm; something which did nothing to quell the twinkle in the Headmaster’s eyes. It had been too long since Albus had seen the dear boy so ruffled.

Hermione watched the scene unfold in front of her in a much calmer manner, even if inside she too was seething; though with more worry and less anger than Severus. She could handle being at Hogwarts over the holidays; even if it meant she wouldn’t get to see her parents anytime soon. Perhaps she could make some headway in rectifying their situation. Harry had gained some confidence in potions; perhaps it was time, after the holidays that is, to let the class start the assignment that had caused this mess over again. Not that she expected it to be useful for their current predicament, but the potions were all useful, and some of them were needed by Madam Pomfrey. ‘That’s settled then,’ she thought to herself, quite satisfied with her penchant for creating lesson plans. After much grumbling, Severus had decided that hers would suffice and stopped butting in, as long as she made sure that she covered everything that was expected for seventh year students, she could, he had decided wearily, add in whatever other potion lessons she deemed suitable.

Hermione recoiled in her seat when she felt someone poke her until she realized it was merely Severus trying to get her attention.

“Yes?” she drawled. ‘Oh, how she loved this voice. It was like deep rich chocolate of the finest source, soft as velvet and at times, hard as steel, but always sexy.’ She realized Severus was staring at her, eyebrow quirked, her own face set in an odd resemblance of his own. She tamped down her thoughts. ‘Mustn’t let him catch me wool-gathering again,’ she thought fervently. She hoped he wouldn’t take it upon himself to see if he was still a superb Occlumens while in her body; it simply wouldn’t do to have the man find out she had suddenly decided he was desirable.

“Well? Have you nothing to say about our latest predicament, Miss Granger?”

She raised an eyebrow at his return to Miss Granger. She shrugged with a glance at the Headmaster. “Don’t worry, Severus,” she cooed in a saccharinely sweet voice, quite out of place coming from the harsh professor, “I can teach you everything you need to know. You’ll do just fine.” She followed her speech up by patting him comfortingly on the hand; a hand which was quickly jerked away from her touch.

The Headmaster discretely covered his mouth to hide his smile, but the ever-present damnable twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

“You see, my dear boy, you’ll be well prepared, and you know you could use a vacation from Hogwarts; I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Severus sighed. This did not constitute as a vacation as far as he was concerned.




Hermione took the still silently protesting Severus with her down to the dungeons to tell him about her parents. And about what things he should purchase as gifts; not only for her parents but for Ron and Harry as well. Wasn’t that rich. Severus buying gifts for The Boy Who Lived and his best mate.




After a long and rather tedious discussion with Severus about Hermione’s parents, they shifted towards gift purchasing when he had a thought.

“Do you parents know about your . . . relationship with Minerva?”

“Heavens no! They don’t even know that I fancy birds . . . o’er blokes!”

‘O’er but not instead of? Interesting,’ thought Severus, though he didn’t call her on it. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know what had brought on that bit of change.

“If they ask, which I doubt they will, just tell them you’re too busy with your studies to even think of dating, and that should suffice. They know that answer by rote now as it’s the only answer I’ve ever given them to that particular question,” explained Hermione in a tone that clearly said this line of conversation was over.




Severus was only too glad to move on to the next topic . . . until he realized just who he would be purchasing gifts for and began sulking again.

Hermione pulled a face. “Oh, grow up, Severus,” she growled, making him even more irritable.

“Honestly, it isn’t that bad. I will give you a list and some galleons, and you will go and purchase said gifts. It will look right odd if you don’t show up with presents. You wouldn’t want to blow this whole thing out of the water this late in the game now, would you?”

“No,” he seethed, “I wouldn’t, as much as I would love to see the expressions on everyone’s face when they realized they’d been had . . . quite literally in Minerva’s place by ‘the great bat and greasy git of a potions professor,’”.

“It’s good to see you still have your snark,” Hermione commented dryly.

“My what?”

“Your snark. Now let us get down to business; you don’t have many shopping days left, you know.”

Severus sighed. It was going to be a long day.




Later that afternoon, Severus trudged down to Hogsmeade to purchase gifts for Hermione’s parents, Ron, Harry, and Minerva. He’d rather hug Harry than purchase Minerva’s gift. ‘Merlin save me,’ he thought wearily. At least being in seventh year meant that he could go down by himself; he couldn’t bear purchasing such a gift in front of anyone else. How in the world Hermione had discovered the shop in the first place was a mystery he did not care to unravel; sometimes you were better off not knowing. He had no desire to sate his curiosity on this particular riddle. Hermione was an enigma; one he could honestly admit to himself that he was beginning to like. He didn’t bait her nearly as often as was his wont, he had actually told her to keep her money; that has his Christmas gift to her he would purchase the gifts with his own money. It was interesting to see the look of shock on his own face; Severus was rarely speechless, and the few times he had been taken aback, had schooled his features into a void of non-caring so that no one was the wiser.

‘Bloody hell,’ he thought crossly, ‘ just my luck that the one woman I would find attractive after all these years is in love with the Deputy Headmistress, my student, and living in my body! It couldn’t possibly get any worse!’

Several weeks would pass before Severus found out just how wrong he was.




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Before they knew it, the holidays were upon them, and Severus was leaving, full of trepidation, for his first ride in years on the Hogwarts Express with a bunch of ruddy children, his bag full of parcels that would be owled to their wizard recipients; others placed under the tree for his parents. ‘At least,’ he thought gratefully, ‘I will not be around when Minerva opens her gift. That shop was something else . . . most of which I could at the least identify a purpose for, but what Hermione thinks Minerva would want with a thick strand of plastic beads is beyond even my intellect. Though,’ he mused further, ‘intellect and items from such a shop probably do not even belong in the same sentence.’


Severus suffered the long trip to the Kings Cross station with minimal displayed aggravation. Hermione’s face was not one that could easily hide emotion, but he had learned some tricks to make things less obvious, and he had learned quickly to identify the forewarning signs of her cycles so that he could be prepared. As he was expecting the next one over the holidays, he had taken several vials from his stores of blood-replenishing draught, shrunk and hidden them in his trunk. ‘At least I don’t have to ride with Harry since he’s staying at Hogwarts for the holidays; not that Seamus is much better . . . complete dolt in Potions.’

“I bet you’re exctd tobe goiome, huh, ‘Mione?” asked Ron around a mouthful of chocolate frog.

“Ron!” hissed Seamus, a disgusted look on his face, “don’t talk with your mouth full!”

Severus was surprised to discover that Seamus had manners, or at least gave the appearance of having them. Gryffindors so rarely did.

Ron swallowed and scowled at his friend. “I don’t remember you complaining about that last n---” a quick elbowing from Seamus brought Ron up short. He made no attempt to neither finish his thought nor come up with a feasible replacement to where he had been going, but he flushed as red as his hair.

Severus could only fill in night as the missing word, but it made no sense to him why Seamus would not want Ron talking about it. ‘Boys,’ thought Severus in disgust. ‘Wait. I did not just think like Hermione would. I am not turning into Miss Granger. I am not! Ruddy children. Much better.’

Between Severus’ horror at thinking like a girl and Ron and Seamus’ embarrassment, the rest of the ride passed in an uncomfortable silence. Severus drew out a book and commenced reading, completely blocking out Ron and Seamus, something which was probably for the better as far as his mental health was concerned, though in the long run, it may have saved him some trouble. Ignorance is not always bliss.




Upon exiting the train, Severus glanced about covertly, searching for the pleasant-looking couple in the Muggle photograph that Hermione had in her room.


Not seeing them right away, Severus went to retrieve the rest of his luggage, and bid farewell to Ron and Seamus, neither of which, thankfully, tried to hug him.

He had just leaned down to pick up his trunk when strong arms surrounded him from the back. Startled, he yelped, not liking the high pitched sound which was his voice now.

“Dear, you scared her! How’s my Hermione?” asked a woman who Severus realized was Hermione’s mother.

“Just fine, Mum. How are you and Dad doing?”

His . . . parents smiled lovingly at him and he thought he might be ill from the sentimentality of it all.

Mr. Granger picked up his daughter’s trunk, and his wife slipped an arm around Hermione’s waist so that they would walk out side by side to the car.


Hermione, it turned out, came from a very nice neighborhood and a lovely home. It was, not surprisingly, chock full of books. Every room held shelves of them. The colours of the house were muted and pleasant, lots of cream with neat trim for the walls, photographs here and there of her parents, Hermione with her parents, Hermione with Crookshanks looking peevish about having his photo taken.

Speaking of Crookshanks, Severus realized he was being asked about the creature.

“He’s staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, Mum,” he explained. “He doesn’t like the motion of the train, and Professor McGonagall promised to take good care of him.”

His . . . mother nodded. “It just seems odd to see you without him these days since you’ve had him so long.”

Severus shrugged. “I know, but it’s better for him, and there are other cats in the castle so he’ll be happy.”

Mrs. Granger shrugged. “Whatever you think is best, sweetie. Why don’t you take your things upstairs and unpack, and I’ll fix you a snack and a nice cup of tea.”

“I’d like that,” he said simply.

Severus collected his belongings and trudged up the stairs. There were three doors upstairs which Severus surreptitiously peeked into until he had located the bathroom and Hermione’s room. After carefully putting his things away, he laid down on Hermione’s bed for a few moments of relaxation. ‘I can live with this, I think,’ he mused. ‘And so far so good. Thank Merlin Albus did not insist that I remain at Hogwarts, now that I think about it. I am quite certain that Minerva would have found a way to monopolize my evenings and I just could not deal with that. I know I would have given us away.’

He heard Hermione’s mother call out that the snack was ready, so he stretched gracefully, and slipped off of the bed and headed back downstairs.

As the days came and went, Severus, who with the exception of chocolate, had never considered himself to have much of a sweet tooth, was desperately craving sugar; a commodity which did not appear to exist in the Granger household.

Quicker than he thought, Christmas Eve was upon them, and Severus was escorted down the street by Hermione’s parents to join a group of neighbors for caroling. Hermione’s voice was sweet and pure in song and he decided he quite liked it. ‘She would sound rather nice in harmony with my own tenor. Not that I ever sing anymore; Albus is probably the only person that is aware that it is something I enjoy. This is one Muggle custom that would not be so bad to adopt at Hogwarts . . . though I suppose we would have to do it before the students left for the holidays . . . perhaps the students that remain would enjoy caroling through town for the Hogsmeade residents.’ He promised himself that he would discuss the possibilities with Albus when he was back at school.

Severus had not had a joyous childhood, and usually scorned Christmas, as he had no pleasant memories to associate with it. Until now. He realized he was truly enjoying himself.

Despite the coldness of the air and the frigidness of the wind which brought a deep rosy tint to Hermione’s face, Severus smiled as he lifted his voice with his fellow carolers in song.



The first nowell the Angel did say
Was to three poor shepherds in fields as they lay.
In fields where they lay keeping their sheep,
In a cold winter’s night that was so deep.



Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell.
Born is the King of Israel.

Soon the song drew to a close, and Severus, still as perceptive as he would have been in his own body, felt someone move into his personal space. He held himself still, not wanting to jump and alarm anyone; he didn’t sense anything malicious. The body moved closer and closer until he could feel warm breath on his ear. A deep baritone voice whispered, “Hullo, Hermione, I’ve missed you.”

Severus racked his brain but could not place any memories of Hermione mentioning a love interest at home; besides, the voice was too deep to be a woman. Not even Madam Hooch’s voice was that deep.

Slowly, he turned to face a thin boy with impossibly dark eyes and hair, long nose and alabaster skin. He was alarmed to realize he was looking at a young version of himself. Did his family have some squib relative he was unaware of?

“Yes?” he muttered? Reverting to his usual taciturn manner when faced with this unexpected boy.

“Oh, come now, Hermione,” the boy purred, his voice as silky as Snape’s own velvety tenor, “you weren’t so shy last I saw you.”

Severus stepped back in alarm. ‘But Hermione told me she was gay!’ he thought to himself. ‘What the hell is he blathering on about?’

Long fingers brushed his curls aside and the boy smiled. ‘A rather nice smile,” thought Severus mindlessly, in shock from the soft touch. ‘Blast, Hermione, if this is someone I’m supposed to know, I’m going to look mighty foolish. You’d think you’d remember you had an overly-friendly neighbor boy waiting for you – especially if said boy looked just like your professor. . . . Oh, dear Merlin, does that mean that perhaps Hermione secretly had a crush on me and fell for Minerva’s charms because I unknowingly turned her away? Not that I would have bedded a student, but . . . in retrospect it would make things a lot easier for me right now!’

Severus was saved from his embarrassment when Hermione’s mother turned to see what had captured her daughter’s attention.

“Well hello, Sage, I was wondering if we’d see you tonight,” she said pleasantly.

She turned to her daughter. “Hermione, you remember Sage Siyamak, don’t you? We rarely see him, but he always seems to come around when you’re home from school.”

She winked at her daughter.

Severus was mortified. He raised an eyebrow. “How could I forget?”

“Well,” Severus drawled, trying to find a way out of this situation, “it was very nice seeing you again.” He turned to Mrs. Granger. “Can we go home now? I’m rather chilly.”

Sage stepped forward. “I would be happy to take her home, Ma’am. I remember where you live.”

Mrs. Granger smiled. Hermione needed to get out and date; she would need more comfort in life than one could simply get from books. She smiled widely at the young man. “Of course you may, Sage. You two have fun!” Mr. and Mrs. Granger turned, arm in arm, to walk back down the street with the remaining carolers. Severus, in shock, simply stood there with his mouth agape, looking much the part of the codfish he always accused his dunderhead students of imitating. Whatever was he to do now?

Sage smiled in return. “You’ve grown even more beautiful than when I saw you this summer, my dear.” He took Severus’ hand, placed it in the crook of his arm, and gestured after the retreating adults. “Shall we?”

The stroll back to Hermione’s house seemed to take twice as long when walking with Sage; even without the numerous stops for caroling. He could swear the distance had doubled . . . or tripled even . . . in length.

Thankfully, Sage seemed content to simply walk arm in arm with whom he believed to be Hermione, for Severus’ mind was in too much turmoil to provide for intelligent conversation.

When they reached the door to Hermione’s house, he started at the predatory look on Sage’s face; it was one he was used to being on his own features. The closer Sage leaned in, the further Severus leaned back, until his back was against the door. At the last moment, he turned his face sideways so that Sage’s lips brushed his cheek. That rich voice murmured in his ear. “Shall we say . . . the Tea House on Boxing Day, 4pm?

“She would be delighted!” the Muggle version of Albus Dumbledore called from the second story window.

‘Meddling Mother!’

“Wonderful, I shall come and pick you up at 3:30.”

‘Dammit,’ thought Severus. ‘Now I cannot even use the excuse of –I could not find the place!–’




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When he finally made it to his room, he flung himself on his bed, a hand over his eyes. ‘Hermione Granger led a dangerous life. He recognized the . . . Tea House . . . for what it really was. ’ Sitting back up, he penned a quick note to Hermione --

Who is Sage??!!



-- every word underlined, and sent it post-haste. He didn’t care that there was a snow storm in the making; that owl was going!

End Author’s Note:

The First Nowell - Words & Music: Traditional English carol of the 16th or 17th century, but possibly dating from as early as the 13th Century. Its original spelling was nowell. Scholars believe the word to actually stand for the phrase, \"Now all is well.\" Some people think that the unknown author meant that God was saying now all is well since Christ was born. If you’re not familiar with the song, please visit my webpage (http://www.geocities.com/mysticsong1978) to hear a clip of your lovely and talented MysticSong1978 singing the bit from this story. It’s in the GALLERY, mp3 format and relatively small file size.