The Bat in the Hat
"Absolutely not."
Hermione huffed in exasperation. "It's a hat, Severus! Not some medieval torture device!"
He shot her a swift glare over The Daily Prophet. "It is pointless, undignified, and utterly Gryffindor. Need I have better reasons?"
"It's fun!"
"I will not discuss this with you again," he snapped, scowling. "Haven't you got a Transfiguration class to teach?"
"It's the holiday break," she retorted. "As you know very well. And yes, you will discuss this again! No one will see it; can't you just be—be festive for once? You're being a complete prat!"
His eyebrows disappeared into his greasy hair, but she couldn't care less. Look out world, Hermione Granger was on a roll!
"I didn't ask you to buy me anything! I didn't ask you to make any romantic gestures! I didn't even ask you to attend the Weasleys' Christmas party tomorrow! I'm asking you, right now, to stop being a complete Scrooge!"
"You do realize I understand the Muggle reference?" was all he said, tone light-hearted though his eyes were glittering dangerously.
"No, you don't understand it, because otherwise you wouldn't be acting like this! I never ask you for anything! You just take and take and I'm—"
She abruptly cut off when Severus stood up. The ensuing silence allowed her brain to catch up with her mouth; she stared at him in dread.
She'd crossed a line. She'd definitely crossed a line. And just when their relationship seemed to finally be right. Of course she'd gone and messed it up.
He took a step towards her. "Did it occur to you that I might like to buy you something?"
She swallowed. Her jaw worked, searching for words. "Sever—"
He pulled a small package from his pocket and her voice disappeared. It looked like a ring box. Exactly the same size as the one Harry had given Ginny, only about half as fancy. Hermione had never liked extravagant things, and Severus knew it.
"And perhaps—" he took another step, now coming an arm's length from where she stood, "I enjoy making 'romantic' gestures towards you, I enjoy it when you are happy?"
And then he fell. Momentarily she thought he'd collapsed, was having a seizure or something, until she realized that he was on one knee before her. Gazing up at her, his hand extended to her, holding the box.
Outwardly he was calm, but she could see the turmoil in his eyes. Ever doubting of himself, of his own worth. Expecting rejection.
Her breath caught, eyes stinging.
Severus suddenly recoiled, pain flashing across his face, and she realized she was shaking her head—trying to hide the threatening tears, but evidently he took it as a "no", for he jerked himself to his feet and turned away from her, shoving the box into his pocket.
"No!" Hermione blurted out, horrified. "I mean, yes! Yes, I want to marry you!" she flung herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck, and barely gave him a chance to gape at her before she kissed him senseless.
When he eventually pulled back, he was smirking in evident self-satisfaction. Some things never changed, and that smirk was one of them.
Absently playing with a lock of her hair, he murmured, "And one other thing, love."
She blinked up at him, still rather breathless from their snogging session, and secretly delighted by the pet name. "What is it?"
"Did it ever occur to you that—" he pulled the box out of his pocket for the second time, "—just perhaps I truly would like to attend the Weasel Family's Christmas catastrophe?" he opened said box, revealing an emerald-studded silver band that made Hermione gasp in delight.
He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and continued, "And before you ask if I've had a concussion—I would very much like to see Ronald Weasley's expression when he spots my ring on your finger, and realizes that you ditched him for me." To punctuate the last word, he slipped the cool metal band onto the fourth finger of her left hand.
"I didn't ditch him, for you or anyone else!" she protested his statement, though still grinning like a fool. "We simply decided we weren't right for each other, long before you and I had any sort of association."
Come to think of it, Ron's continuous flirting with every female they came across hadn't much helped their relationship.
Severus chuckled. "Nonetheless." He reached behind her to nab something, then to her great amusement dropped a floppy red-and-white object onto his own head. "I'll even wear your bloody Santa hat. Medieval torture device, indeed. Might as well be."
She smiled. "Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas," he returned, then raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Ah. Do I spy mistletoe?"