Hogwarts, A Holiday

A/N: This was my very first attempt at fan fiction. The original has since then been removed completely and had a total overall make over. I had to redo it for several reasons, basic grammar and happenings being one of them, but I was a young and inexperienced writer when I tried my hand at this over six years ago. The pairing is still the same, and the story line is still mostly timeless, as in it happens in a Voldemort free, Harry still at school sort of time frame, I hope you like it.


‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the halls, not a person was stirring, nor the portraits on the walls. The students were in their dormitories, professors in their rooms, all except one bitter man, moping about in his gloom. And that bitter old man, so greasy and foul, was none other than the resident dungeon master, Professor Severus Snape. The cold hearted man, with the slightly hooked, overly large nose and greasy black hair, sat alone in his chilly dungeon on office on that Christmas Eve.

Despite the bright glowing embers of the fireplace, the air was brisk, and said leaping flames were the only true source of light in the office. The small candle at the edge of the desk hardly illuminated anything other than the countless scrolls of parchment which he sat hunched over, marking furiously with red ink and a quill. Severus had been the only professor to assign the students several feet of parchment just before the holiday break.

Christmas was a daunting holiday for the man that sat behind the desk, no particular reason to be merry, though most claimed he had no reason to be dismal. To the average onlooker, most would say he was very unfortunate to be stranded behind a desk in such a cold, miserable dungeon lacking all the proper festive festoonings, and things of the like. However, to Severus, this was holiday bliss, and a particularly evil smirk curled over his lips as he unrolled a scroll marked ‘H.J. Potter’ at the top, red quill poised and ready to slash a giant ‘T’ right through the center of it.

But a small creaking sound forced his attentions away from the parchment. His office was otherwise silent as he gazed around the room, eyes landing on the door, which was now ajar. His gaze narrowed, for he knew he had closed it, but there was no one visible either in the room or the corridor just beyond the door. Leaning up over the edge of his desk he gazed down and frowned. “Shoo.” He said.

A small, auburn tabby cat was seated, very stiffly, just on the floor beside his desk. It had distinctive silver markings in the shape of squares under each of its eyes and a black ring around its front paw. The glowing eyes of the cat gazed straight up at him and made a low purring noise. Annoyed that the cat had not been wise enough to follow directions Severus quirked an eyebrow up on his forehead. “I know you understand English, Minerva. Now shoo.”

The cat drew back on its paws and hissed before leaping up into the air, but in midair, transfigured into the Transfigurations mistress. Her long emerald robes were practically dragging the ground as she swept toward his desk. “Well that’s a fine how do you do for Christmas Eve.”

“Very well, thank you,” he snapped. “Now show yourself to the door. I’m busy.”

She sighed. “Professor, it’s not wise to spend so much time alone on Christmas Eve, people might believe you’ve a hardened heart.”

“I doubt so, Minerva,” he said, turning his attentions back to Potter’s scroll as if nothing had happened.

“Oh? And why’s that, Severus?”

“No one will believe I’ve a hardened heart because most people don’t believe I’ve a heart to begin with.” He dipped the quill into the red inkwell and was about to strike a line for the body of the ‘T’ through Potter’s parchment when the quill was suddenly blasted from his hands, a spray of red ink showering his desk. “Confound it, woman!” he shouted. “You’ve gotten ink everywhere!”

“It’s just ink, Severus, at least it’s festive,” she said and with another wave of her wand, had all the little ink blots floating as if they were tiny Christmas ornaments just above his head. But he all too quickly batted them away, sending most of them crashing to the floor where the splattered as ink droplets. “Grinch,” she muttered.

“If only…” he scowled. “Why are you still here, Minerva?”

She sighed. “What are you still doing, cloistered up in your office just hours before Christmas? You cannot possibly still be working?”

“Yes, well seeing is you’ve just answered your own bloody question, and I am still working, I’ll thank you kindly to state your reason for loitering and then be on your merry little way.” He sneered and then reached into his desk drawer for another quill. This one was blasted out of his grasp before he’d even closed his fingers around the barb. “I’m running out of quills and patience, Minerva, what do you want?”

“Come up to the staff lounge and have some Christmas cheer,” she offered him a friendly, truce baring smile.

“And by that invitation you mean come up to the staff lounge, watch Albus stumble around drunk off his arse, while Sibyl makes drunken advances in my general direction, all the while you and Filius charm god only knows what to sing bloody Christmas carols, I think not, Minerva.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, Albus has had a bit of punch, and Filius and I have been working on enchanting ornaments…” she trailed off. “If you come up I promise I’ll ward Sibyl off.”

“No dice, Minerva. Find your merry way back up to that party and send my bloody regards, I’m not interested.”

Again she sighed, this time coming to stand beside him, placing a warm hand on his shoulder that for all he cared may as well not have been there. His eyes gazed intently at the scroll before him, determined to mark that boy with a ‘T’ even if it meant having every quill he owned blasted from his fingers. She removed her spectacles, eyes filled with hope and tapped them against the parchment in attempts to garner his attention.

Slowly turning his head up, he gazed for a moment, finding it curiously strange how much younger she looked, and how much prettier her eyes appeared when not hidden behind the square rimmed glasses. He shook his head and then turned his eyes back to the parchment. “I saw that,” she said.

“I’m tired,” he countered.

“All the more reason to quit this relentless grading that does not need to be finished until a fortnight from now, and come join the festivities.”

He shook his head. “I’m still declining that offer, Minerva.”

“You can’t deny it, I saw something there, Severus.”

“Yes, my bloody blind and tired eyes telling me that celebrating at this hour would be foolish for they seem to be convinced that you look younger without the ruddy spectacles.”

She chuckled, turning her eyes away for a moment. “I think that’s supposed to be a compliment, but from you who knows.” Shrugging her shoulders she tapped his shoulder and sighed. “Come on, Severus, it’s the holidays, you’re complimenting me, let’s go celebrate.”

“I didn’t say you were Miss Universe,” he snapped, and she chuckled again. His words were losing their edge.

“Suit yourself,” and she made to put the glasses back on her face, only his hand had moved forward and was holding them down to the desk.

“Perhaps you should leave them off.”

“Well I can hardly see without them,” she said.

“’Tis pity,” he muttered and then pulled a fresh quill from inside his desk. He hesitated, waiting to see if she would blast it away, only to find it still firmly in his grip. Quickly scribbling a ‘T’ on Potter’s paper he laid the quill down.

“Why’s it a pity?” she asked and then narrowed her eyes at the parchment, waving her wand she transfigured the letter into an ‘A’ hoping he wouldn’t much notice.

“That you can hardly see without them.”

“And why is that?”

“You look years younger without them.”

“Mm, I see. You have been working too hard. You’re complimenting me again.” He didn’t say another word, merely looked at her. “Ah, what’s the trouble, Severus cat got your tongue?” she quipped, hands on her hips. She’d replaced her spectacles and was now flashing a very cat like grin herself. “Ah, to hell with you, you’re just too bitter and dragging me down into the muck,” she muttered and then turned to head for the door. “Happy bloody Christmas, Snape.”

Severus sat back in his desk chair, watching her move toward the door. “Minerva?”

“Hmm?” she said, nearly out the door completely.

“Did Albus put you up to this?”

“Put me up to what?”

“Coming down here to force me up to the festivities?”

She scoffed. “Hardly, he’s stumbling around so badly I’m sure he doesn’t even notice I’m missing.”

“Indeed.” He added. “Well, off with you then.”

“Right.” Turning once more she’d nearly made it completely out the door when his voice drew her back again.

“Though I suppose one drink to celebrate the fact that the dunderheads are gone for the next fortnight couldn’t hurt.” Minerva turned back to him with a smile on her face. With quick steps she was back at his side, offering her hand to help him up from his desk but he frowned. “I said a quick drink, not me gallivanting up to that ridiculous party.”

“Yes, well I thought you might say that,” she said and reached into her robes, drawing from within their depths a dark green glass bottle of chilled champagne. With a quick wave of her wand, she’d transfigured two of Severus’ quills into goblets and smiled. “A toast to holiday cheer?”

Severus rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to insist.” With great precision and slowness, he rose from his chair and then banished various scrolls of parchment into several desk drawers before moving around to a large door that seemed to appear from nowhere in-between two shelves of books. “What?” he said when she looked at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted a second head.

“What’s wrong with having a toast right here?”

“I never mix business with pleasure, Minerva,” he smirked and watched the tiniest hint of a flush creep into her cheeks. She hadn’t expected a trip into Severus’ private chambers, which of all the teacher’s chamber in the castle, his was the least visited. Following him through the door, which he was forced to remove several wards from before they were able to pass through it, Minerva moved down the long corridor until they’d entered his sitting room.

A large ornate fireplace was on the far wall of the one they’d just come through, bookshelves lining the door frame on either side, and a sofa, old and squishy, though still decent looking, sat facing the fire, an end table beside it. A few other small furnishings here and there and a corridor that led off to what she assumed to be his bedroom, bathroom, and laboratory. The fire was already going in the hearth and she was surprised at the warmth, though not complaining at its presence.

The room was painted in an offshoot of mauve, though one could hardly tell in the dim candle light, the only other source being the flames in the hearth. He moved to the couch and stood in front of it, “Have a seat,” he offered and she slid down on the cushion, realizing as she did that she’d practically come down in his lap as he’d chosen then to sit as well. Half on his right leg she flushed again.

“Terribly sorry, Severus—”

“You're not that heavy Minerva, honestly.” Severus nodded, and for a moment she thought she saw the ghost of a faint smile faintly before he turned his head to the end table behind her. Reaching behind her, he waved his hand and the two transfigured goblets, which she had not remembered him bringing with him, appeared before their eyes. “The bubbly?” he asked.

“What? Oh, yes…” and she handed him the bottle that she’d otherwise been nursing quite close to her bosom. “I can’t imagine its too terribly good a year, Albus never goes all out for these holiday affairs…”

“Indeed,” he said and popped the cork, the foam and fizzle spilling down the edge of the bottle, dribbling a bit into her lap, the cork itself having short forth into the fireplace and exploded into tiny sparkles amongst the flames. The sound of the champagne filling the glass competed with the crackling and popping from the fireplace as most dominant sound in the room, until he placed the bottle down, picked up both glasses and handed on to her. “A holiday toast, at your insistence,” he said.

“To having a Happy Christmas,” she said and clanked her glass against his. He was quiet for a moment, waiting before he drew his glass up to his lips and he nodded his head.

“To a Happy Christmas.” A smile dawned across his face, and it appeared to be a smile unlike any other that she’d ever seen on him. This smile was not devious or because of some evil triumph over a student, but rather this smile was a smile of joy, however small it was, and it made her smile just to see it. “Cheers,” he added and then tipped the glass back against his lips.

Minerva did the same, one hand slowly covering his hand as it rested on the top of his knee. With the glass half full, she placed it on the end table, but in shifting herself around she found herself more in Severus’ lap than before, it was almost as if the couch were shrinking, though she knew that to be impossible. But rather than move completely out of his lap, she shifted her hips again and then flushed a bit.

“Comfortable?” he asked, wrapping one arm behind her back to keep her from tipping back into the end table in case she decided to shift again. His question was meant to be sarcastic, though she was half tempted to answer it. He did have rather comfortable legs, and she seemed to mind less and less that it should have been a truly awkward situation.

There was a moment. That golden moment wherein things ought to be said or done, but nothing happens because eyes are locked and breaths are being held, and it was that sort of moment that was over taking both of them. Severus found that his hand had moved up the side of her face and he stroked a long, bony finger gently down her cheek. Minerva’s lips quivered.

She drew in a gentle breath and moved her hand to touch the side of his cheek, brushing her fingers back into his hair, though she could hardly contain her frown. His greasy, black hair was coarse, and clumpy to the touch. “You should let me wash your hair for you.” And she clapped her hand to her mouth. “Too much champagne,” she muttered.

“You’ve only had half a glass,” he countered but eyed her thoughtfully anyhow. “Perhaps you find yourself in a generous mood.”

“Generous mood…” Indeed, she thought. Generous was stepping away from the party to invite him to celebrate. Generous was having a holiday toast with him in his office because he refused to join the party. Whatever it was that had prompted her to offer to wash his hair was something else entirely.

It was as she was pondering these thoughts that she felt a tingling sensation building in her stomach, one the likes of which she hadn’t felt since her own days as at student at Hogwarts. Releasing her fingers from Severus’ hair, she gazed into his eyes, which had not left hers since they had made the toast.

Picking up his glass, he finished the contents but did not move to pour a second. “That was a lovely holiday toast,” he said and then wriggled his leg ever so slightly. “So if you’re through bringing festive merriment to my door, I have grading…” but he trailed off when he watched her turn and gaze intently at him. “Yes?”

“I think, perhaps, a Christmas present is in order.” She smiled slightly, finishing her glass of bubbled spirit.

“It won’t be necessary, as I haven’t gotten you anything, Minerva.”

“Oh, nonsense.” She said and then shifted in his lap ever so slightly. However, shifting found her face much closer to the man’s than she’d anticipated and her stomach seemed to flutter as if suddenly filled with doxies. That self assured confidence fled her for a moment and she found her eyes falling closed.

“If you insist,” he whispered quite close to her lips, an almost teasing smirk coming to his lips. She was out of her element that much he could tell just from looking at her. He moved one hand to cup her waist, which was rather slender despite being hidden beneath the thick velvet robes. Her lips were mere inches from his and just as he leaned slightly forward, the moment seemed to pass and she pulled back, pulling herself up from his lap.

“I want you to come with me.”