The fire crackled in the fireplace, and the lights on the Christmas tree winked and shone. Snow could be seen falling gently to the ground through the living room windows, and steam from the mugs of cocoa and tea rose to dissipate in the air. Slow music was being hummed softly by the woman who danced slowly in front of the dark figure on the sofa, who was watching in contentment. She swayed from side to side, wild curls moving with her as she shifted and twirled.

"Oh, come on, Severus." Hermione grinned over her shoulder, "Dance with me!"

He raised an eyebrow, as if to say, You can't seriously believe that I would.

She raised her eyebrow right back, and turned, hands resting on her hips, "Dance."

"No."

"Yes."

"Never."

"Now."

There was a slight pause in the one-word argument, as Severus glared petulantly and Hermione stubbornly. Suddenly, the witch schooled her features, and turned the full force of her wide pleading eyes on him.

"It's Christmas." She pouted.

Severus felt his mouth settle comfortably in a sneer, "How very... perceptive of you."

A frustrated growl left her in a huff, and she stomped her foot, "Severus, nobody will even know! Just dance with me already!"

She hardly looked threatening, standing there in her pajamas, with her bare feet tapping irately on the floor. In fact, it was almost adorable, if Severus were feeling generous. But mostly it was annoying; couldn't the woman see that he had no intention of making an ass of himself, by tromping around in his bedclothes? Though, if he were being honest with himself, he refused simply because he was embarrassed. But this Potions Master was seldom honest with himself, so he continued in his stubborn way.

"I will not plod about like a fool, for your own entertainment."

Her lips thinned, and she narrowed her eyes in irritation; it was time to bring out the big guns, "Severus Snape, if you don't get up and dance with me, I will drag you to the Annual Weasley Christmas Celebration."

His eyes widened in horror. That's a dirty trick, he thought, I'm almost proud.

"You wouldn't," He murmured, but it was more of a plea than anything else.

"Don't try me, Severus," Hermione smirked, brown eyes glittering evilly, "I can, and I will."

Silence reigned, but for the soft crackling of the fire, as Snape remembered the Hellish Holiday Havoc (as he called it), that up until two Christmases ago, they had attended regularly. It had taken one great mishap (out of many minor mishaps) for Hermione to realize that her scowling husband was better off left at home. This particular incident had involved copious amounts of alcohol (fire whiskey), two redheaded twins (the names needn't be mentioned), a rather ingenious jinx (if said redheads did say so, themselves), and a partridge in a pear tree (not quite so literally). It's amazing what a couple of smooth talking young men can get a grown wizard to do, once said grown wizard is so inebriated that he can't tell his fingers from his toes. It's still unclear what exactly had happened that night, but Mrs. Weasley could later be heard commenting that she had never seen quite such a display before. But the pranking chaos was nothing compared to the rather embarrassed ex-Spy, when the haze of alcohol, as well as the jinx, had finally worn off. Hermione had been convinced, as well as every person present (Severus, himself, included), that the trouble making twins would not live to prank again. A well aimed binding hex saved their necks by a hair, and Snape had been rushed home immediately.

Suffice to say, he hadn't been eager to return.

She had cornered him the only way she could, the witch. He would do anything not to endure another Weasley Clan get-together, and if dancing was the cost, so be it.

He stood, sighing in resignation and making a show of sulking and glaring at the floor. Hermione ignored his attitude and merely stood in front of him, smirking in smug victory. With an expression of one who's having indigestion, Snape took her hand in his, and bowed mockingly. She just grinned and curtsied, not bothering to hide her amusement. Sighing once more, Severus slid his hand over the small of her back and began to lead. They danced slowly, spinning and moving gracefully around the furniture. There was no doubt that the disgruntled wizard knew exactly what he was doing. It was completely unintentional when he started humming a slow tune; he didn't even realize it immediately, and the music stumbled for a moment when he did; but in the end, he decided that it couldn't make matters any worse. After all, what was a little humming when he was already dancing circles around his coffee table?

When the low tune registered to Hermione, she lifted her head from where it had come to rest against his chest, sometime between twirling past the mantle and gliding over to the sofa. She recognized it at once, and a small smile appeared on her lips as she closed her eyes, and laid her head back against him. How long they stayed like that- humming and dancing- neither could really be sure. But it wasn't until Hermione pulled away for a dip, her eyes sparkling when she saw his face, did he realize that he, too, had been smiling like an imbecile.

Blast.

Quickly gaining control of his rebellious facial muscles, he scowled and roughly whirled her around, causing Hermione to stumble and tromp quite viciously on his poor, slipper clad toes. A harsh bark of pain, and Severus had disentangled their limbs, and had moved far enough away that her uncoordinated, hazardous being could do no more damage to his person.

Staring at her quite sullenly, he growled, "And that is why it is both silly, and dangerous," A pointed look at a certain witch left no mystery as to who he blamed for that bit danger, "To dance in such an unseemly fashion; barefoot and without proper music, in one's living room."

Hermione chuckled at his expense, shaking her head in amusement, "Oh, come off it. You know you enjoyed yourself."

Snape snorted derisively, "I've no idea what you are talking about."

She didn't even bother to reply; she simply lessened the distance between them, and once she stood directly in front of him, grabbed his shirt in two fist-fulls, yanked him down to her level, and kissed him. His hand found itself resting on her waist, the other caught in her curls.

Hermione pulled back, just enough to whisper, "Happy Christmas, Severus." before he took control of the situation to his liking, kissing her deeply and holding her close.

Happy Christmas, indeed.

A/N: A short little story for my friend, Emi, because she's awesome (and my ruining her life by forcing this ship down her throat was one of my crowning achievements, I must say). And look! It's still Christmas! HA!