The glass ceiling let the faint light of numerous glittering stars into the Great Hall. Giant pillars were enshrouded in golden-belled holly and twinkling lamps in the shape of stars. Silver and gold dust combed liberally across the lush foliage that ameliorated the halls, and all around them the festive candles shone.
Snape hated Christmas.
It was the one festival where he was forced to remain after the meal, if he intended to spend his holidays in Hogwarts, for the sake of "school spirit and house unity" as proudly endorsed by duelling Gryffindors and Slytherins in between the mince pies and plum pudding.
From the corner of his eye, Snape saw Hagrid lumber to his feet, and begin to warble out another rendition of "Silent Fight, Holy Might". He would have to bear another 2 hours of drunken carols, each being mutilated beyond the point of recognition by inanely cheerful professors and students alike. The last Christmas had seen him crouching, all his dignity intact mind you, behind a surly group of bloated Slytherins as they left the hall. Albus's eyes had merely twinkled at Snape, as he appeared out of nowhere, taking him by the elbow and steering him back in, only half listening to Snape's lengthy explanation of how watching his toenails grow would be a more fascinating endeavour than the night's festivities.
Snape roughly ripped the cracker in front of him apart, just to wreck his temper on something defenceless and well, unforgivably cheerful. A hat exploded out of it, a cream and pink beret, with matching roses to adorn its edges.
He caught Albus's eye, from the other side of the table.
twinkle twinkle
Damn him.
Snape was reminded of how every year, without fail, Albus would press another bumpy neon woollen monstrosity into his hands, disguised beneath multitudes of coloured, singing wrapping paper. He had actively refused them for 2 years, and spent the other 11 accepting the presents and throwing them into the fireplace as soon as he reached his rooms. It was easier that way.
"Come, Severus, wear your hat!" Albus cried merrily, as he tried unsuccessfully to adjust the pink and yellow monstrosity that threatened to topple off his head. A scathing reply was on the tip of his lips when he heard a soft snort of laughter.
"And what might your problem be?" Snape sneered.
Remus Lupin was wearing his hat, a wide-brimmed brown hat that shielded his face in a particularly fetching manner. Beneath his black robes, Lupin was wearing a white knitted jumper, and to Severus' infinite disgust, he deliberately had it cut at low as he dared. Lupin often reminded him of a dog, his wide eyes speaking volumes where his mouth would not, and his portrayal of a shameless hussy was blatant and unapologetic.
"Wear your hat, Sevy…" he swore Lupin was purring. "I dare you to."
"What are you, six?" Snape rolled his eyes. Some people were so much better off sober.
"I knew it. You're afraid of a hat, aren't you?"
"I'm not afraid, you flobberworm. It has pink roses. I'm a man. I swear you wouldn't know a fashion disaster even if it slapped you in the face"
"Well then, you're gonna have to do the forfeit!" Lupin declared.
"What?" Snape was incredulous. Lupin was definitely drunk out of his mind.
"Now you have to snog McGonagall!"
Silence.
Only the teachers' table had heard that unfortunate comment, and luckily for Snape all of them were drunk with too much laughter and firewhisky, and were in the process of swaying from side to side happily.
Wearily, Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. Why him? Why was it always him? Why was there was no one else to blame, no one else to carry the weight of the world upon their shoulders, no one else to be the sole recipient of all of fate's malicious jokes? Why couldn't it be someone who actually enjoyed this horrid festival, who was sitting next to the flea-bitten menace?
"Look, Lupin. You're drunk. So are the rest of the professors. I am here, because it is my miserable duty to ensure that each and every one of you does not topple off their chair, and proceed to drown in their own vomit. Now, leave me alone to my misery and be drunk somewhere else."
"But Sevy…" Lupin looked at him with big, disappointed eyes. Severus noted that if Lupin could have thumped a bushy tail sadly against his chair, he probably would have done so at that point of time.
"Tell you what. Let's play a game." Lupin brightened up abruptly, having seized upon a new idea.
"Sure. Me, ball, you fetch?"
Lupin actually considered this for a moment to Snape's growing horror.
"No," he decided at last. "We are going to play a game. You will wear your hat or do the forfeit, and then, it is my turn to do what you want."
"…okay."
All Snape could say upon reflection 2 weeks later, was that it was entirely the fault of the firewhisky.
A/N: My first happy fic ever! Feedback wanted!!