Disclaimer: I am not JKR, these are not my original characters and I didn't even proof read this one myself! Once again Tara is amazing and owns my soul.

Note: Total props to Geekydork who supplied the kick up the arse I so sorely needed to get this finished, and my humbled apologies for the last minute update: It will all be stunningly completed on Boxing day or you have my permission to take my laptop away :) Hope you enjoy and a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all!


Fiction reveals truth that reality obscures.

Ralph Waldo Emerson


Had someone told Hermione three years ago that she'd spend her Christmas Eve curled up on the sofa with Severus Snape, watching a cheesy holiday film, she would have directed them to St Mungo's immediately. As it was, they both sat quietly watching the film carry out into a sweeping camera shot of snow capped comically curved mountains, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The small exuberant town of Whoville was bursting with an abundance of red and greens; small humanoids- resembling neither elves, goblins nor dwarves- were decked out in the most eccentric of holiday dress. Lights and ornaments covered every possible surface and the procession of a festive marching band circled an enormous snow-covered Christmas tree.

The set was electric with atmosphere and Hermione couldn't help the fond nostalgic glow that began to plague her: Hagrid trailing giant trees through the snow, Professor Flitwick's mesmerizing levitation charms and the completed, breath-taking grandeur of the great hall.

As the scene cut to a bustling shop, filled with busy, seemingly frantic customers, Hermione felt her fonder festive memories shrivel up: Oh how she hated Christmas shopping. There was a reason all the magical gifts she purchased were owl-order. If there was nothing Harry and Ron fancied in the mail order magazine then the boys would have to do without.

Hermione was shifted out of her reverie as the first speaking character- a somewhat dumpy middle aged 'Who'- began reciting a comically long shopping list. Hermione smiled at the typical Dr. Seuss vocabulary the film was emulating and wondered absentmindedly if Severus would be able to appreciate it.

His form behind her remained silent and she had to wonder whether he'd maneuvered her into this position, not to distract her as she'd initially expected, but to avoid her inspection. Hermione only had the sensation of his body behind her to judge his reactions, but she was ready to assume his seemingly peaceful presence against her could be interpreted as his silent capitulation to her wishes.

He could be bored, he could be smiling, could be yawning, grinning, growling or gushing enthusiastically at the fantastic set design and atmosphere (somehow she doubted the last one) but the fact was he was still here, watching it with her, by choice.

"Cindy Lou! Honey?"

The 'Who' on screen captured her attention once more, abandoning his list and calling out instead for his little girl who was revealed beneath a staggering stack of packaged presents. If the little girl's doe eyes, blonde shiny locks and surprisingly introspective attitude to the festivities were anything to go by, Hermione could safely conclude that this was meant to be the protagonist of the film. Which was odd- as far as Hermione could remember from reading the books as a child, the little Cindy Lou was no more than two.

Creative license she supposed.

In a matter of moments, a sweeping crowd of shopping 'Whos' and a shrieking shop assistant stole the shot from the tiny who daughter, and with one last glance at the small who-town, the narrator's voice returned.

"Yes, Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot.

But the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville,

Did not. "

As a single green, fur matted hand came into view, an amalgamation of a muggle periscope replaced the camera lens as it were, stalking the ascent of four, boisterous, taunting youths up the side of a harsh snow covered mountain.

Two near identical and obviously immature teenage boys raced up the steep slope, egged on by the two attractive female girls trailing behind them.

"Last one to the tops a stinky old Grinch!"

"Guys, where are we, I think we should go back."

"What?! You're scared of the Grinch!"

"No!"

"They say he lived up here in a big cave, and only comes down when he's hungry for the taste of Who-flesh!"

"Oh drew" the tall, thin blonde slapped one of the boys here:Hermione couldn't for the life of her keep track of which was which.

It seemed as though Fred and George had found themselves immortalized in fiction. She had an unbidden mental image of the two redheaded pests racing down the dungeon passageways to bother Hogwarts' own resident "Grinch"

While smiling softly at this thought, Hermione nevertheless jumped at an amused snort from Severus behind her. If he'd been in her mind again, she'd hex him to kingdom come. Twisting, she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his outburst; Severus didn't seem abashed in the least.

"Potter and Weasley." He murmured in response to her confused look.

Hermione tore her attention back to the screen, now taking in the two 'Who' boys in a different light.

Two adolescents running wildly and unconcernedly up a dangerous mountain, leading others along and irritating a grouchy anti-hero as they did so?

Well, perhaps he had a point.

"No, they're much more Fred and George." Hermione countered, just for the sake of doing so. She was unexplainably gratified that Severus was contributing to the movie experience, rather than just sullenly suffering through it.

Again, Severus gave an amused grunt; partly at her comment and partly as the two 'Who's- whether Harry and Ron or Fred and George- got blasted back down the mountain. Hermione hid her smile as they both turned their attention to the screen.

The Narrator continued, infusing the traditional Grinch script against a new sequence of the disguised Grinch visiting (read: terrorizing) Whoville

"The Grinch hated Christmas, the whole Christmas season. Now please don't ask why, no one quite knows the reason. It could be that his head wasn't screwed on just right, It could be perhaps that his shoes were too tight"

Biting her bottom lip, Hermione almost cackled, her shakes of laughter going far from unnoticed by the wizard at her back. It took only small poke at her waist to make Hermione spill.

"So all we had to do this whole time was buy you some new shoes?" She coyly asked, earning herself another dig in the ribs for her cheek.

"I wondered how long it would take before the Grinch-like aspersions on my character began." Severus only drawled in response, but Hermione could plainly hear the rich tones of amusement behind his voice.

"You're not Grinch-like. You ARE the Grinch." Hermione countered, fondly smiling up at him before turning back to the screen where the Grinch, after vandalizing the Who's vehicles and knocking out a merchant vendor, had been replaced again by the small Cindy Lou; the shot dominated by her ridiculously high voice and still higher hair.

"Boy, nothing beats Christmas right?" The dumpy-dad figure asked, precariously balancing a pile of perfect presents.

"I guess" the small Cindy replied

"You guess?"

"Well it's just that I look around at you and mum and everyone getting all kabobbled, doesn't this seem… superfluous?"

Severus didn't so much as snort at this, as loudly snigger; Hermione was startled to feel him actually shake with laughter.

"What now?" she asked, somewhat annoyed at missing the joke.

"If I'm to be the Grinch, in this Christmas debacle, you're her. I'd bet my last cauldron you were using words like superfluous from the age of 5."

Hermione promptly opened her mouth to argue, only to close it again and admit defeat with a rueful grimace. After all, her vocabulary had always been quite extensive.

Deciding to ignore the irrefutable remark, Hermione fixed her attention to the screen once more, as Harry and Ron- No! She was not going to think of her two best friends as such! Even if the two who-boys simply happened to run head first into danger without considering the fall out, she was not letting the association stick for the rest of the movie. Not even when the two characters in question ran screaming and distressed into the center of town, covered in snow and causing an instant standstill as the rest of the Who's fell to pieces at the mention of the Grinch.

Naturally, the comparisons between her best friends and the snow stricken 'Whos' only grew at her internal resolution; If the Mayor who, an older impeccably dressed who with a mindless sniveling drone of a assistant, was not Cornelius Fudge, Hermione would begin adult classes in divination.

She and Severus turned to look at each other at the precise same moment, and shared a look of confirmation before laughing once more.

The lines between fiction and reality only blurred further from that point. The Mayor, capturing the town's panicked attention, was as swift as a seeker to deny any Grinch-caused disturbance.

"Don't' tell me that your boys were not up on Mt Crumpet provoking the one creature within a billion billometres of here who hates Christmas!"

"But it was the Grinch" Both boys shouted in unison.

"Oh no, no, no sir! The boys didn't see any Grinch. They were just up on the mountain, playing with matches, or, defacing public property."

"Ahh, well, that's a relief."

Hermione hadn't been present at Harry's court hearing following the Dementor attack, but she wondered just how similar the dialogue would have been: What kind of court room mindlessly accepts the impossibility of a rogue Dementor.

"Fudge might've looked good with that hair you know." Hermione quipped, eager to continue the banter. It was endearing to see this rarely seen side of Severus, even if his reply was as simple as a snigger.

"Indeed."

The pair continued in this fashion, watching the movie advance while sharing simple asides and snarky comments- the snarky comments belonging purely to the Slytherin of course. Severus took undisguised delight as the Grinch saved the small Cindy Lou, only to then to reject her apology and case her head to toe in wrapping paper.

Hermione had hummed bemusedly. Everything from the girl's lack of fear, her determination to provide needless and unwelcomed thanks, and the Grinch's reluctance to be seen doing anything remotely nice, emulated the pair of them exactly; from the first few trysts of their secret liaison to this very moment, cuddling and watching soppy films under the guise of nonchalance and reluctance. If Severus saw the associations between them, he was purposefully refraining from comment, staying silent during that portion of the proceedings.

A silence that was swiftly broken: Had Hermione known the film boasted a sappy-soul-searching musical number Severus' reaction would have been far less amusing. As it was, his profound groan at the merest few opening notes was enough to set Hermione into a fit of coughing laughter. The grouchy wizard met her laughter with a resigned glare before climbing over her to retreat to the kitchen.

Still chuckling, Hermione smiled to herself as Cindy Lou continued to sing on screen. From the kitchen, faint sounds of the pantry being raided let her know Severus absence was not so much a fit of pique as a strategic act of avoidance.

She was sorely tempted to pause the scene until his return.

In the end she decided simply letting the song play through was punishment enough.

Hermione's own personal Grinch returned to the sofa just as his fictional furry counterpart returned to his lair up on the peak of Mt Crumpet. Rather than disturb her by lying full out on the couch once more, Severus took a seat and extended his long legs onto her coffee table, offering his lap as a pillow in compromise.

Hermione couldn't help but notice this position was really no better for observing his reactions; probably something he was well aware of.

With very little option, Hermione focused her attention again to the film and it's exceptional depiction of the Grinch's lair. Expecting a cave, or a bleak empty cavern, the expanse of elaborate machinery took her by surprise. Green backlights lit an area similar to a factory, operated on levers and pulleys to form a fully personalized living arrangement-cum-workspace.

"Before you say a word, even my lab is not quite that extravagant."

Hermione sniggered at his anticipation of her comment.

"But you clearly both share an appreciation of dramatics." She countered, her point emphasized as the Grinch staged an elaborate pantomime behind a dressing scene, then preceded to check his answering machine.

"You have no messages."

"Odd; better check the out going."

"If you utter so much as one syllable, I'll hunt you down and gut you like a fish. If you'd like to fax me, press the star key."

Hermione thought, for possibly the first time ever, that it was probably a good thing Wizards hadn't embraced every muggle invention.

Severus, while attempting to contain his smirk, simply raised an eyebrow at her comparison.

"I'm not dramatic at all." He stoutly insisted.

This time it was Hermione turn to snort.

As much as Hermione had been enjoying the light banter between them, the following few scenes were such that Severus' only input were a series of surprised murmurs lapsing into long moments of silence; The film, rather than launching straight into the Grinch's classic plot to steal Christmas, deviated from the traditional animations and instead followed the investigative exploits of little Cindy Lou.

Armed with nothing more than a tape recorder, the surprisingly insightful seven year old seemed intent on uncovering the story of the Grinch. Hermione grimaced at the image this concocted of her fourteen-year-old self assembling committee papers and S.P.E.W badges, and she grimly began expecting the Severus' observations on the matter.

Only for them to never come.

Severus was silent behind her, and seemed unusually intent on the young Cindy Lou as she set about interrogating two woolen covered old biddies. Relaxing once more against the warm wool of Severus' slacks, Hermione watched as the story of the Grinch unfolded.

Hermione's heart was swollen within five minutes. Why was she so damn affected by a movie aimed at children? As the scene changed from the arrival of the small who-oddity, wrapped in a bundle and left perched in a tree on a cold Christmas Eve, to that of a older, fur covered school boy, mocked by his peers, Hermione felt the corners of her eyes betray her. Embedding herself further in Severus' lap to hide the true extent of her weepy condition, Hermione missed the man's own reaction.

As the small, odd Grinch on screen sat, utterly enraptured at the stunningly pretty (and no doubt popular) Martha May, Hermione's mind was focused only on the plot. When the sickly smiling future Mayor, Augustus Maywho made an appearance as a schoolyard bully, Hermione thought only of the characterization. She watched the young green boy dedicate hours to making the Who girls' gift, in spite of the bully's threatening ridicule, and thought absolutely nothing of it; and when the Grinch, tormented and teased by the young Augustus, lost control, hurling the presents and Christmas tree against the wall, sending his classmates screaming in terror, and eventually sharing a last parting glance with the sorrowed Martha May, Hermione's thoughts- while full of pity for the furry creature- were still firmly centered in the grounds of fiction.

Severus', however, were not.

It took a moment or so for Hermione to notice the wizard's tensing form behind her. It was but the slightest of shifts in the room's atmosphere, imperceptible perhaps to anyone else, that tipped Hermione to the notion that something was wrong. Unwilling to display a lapse of truly Gryffindor blatancy, Hermione racked her mind, considering any possible triggers in the last five minutes. Was she hurting his leg? Was he bored with the film? He'd seen so interested only a scene or two ago, what on earth had brought this-

Oh.

Suddenly, the last sequence of film took on a new light in Hermione head. The young misfit, ridiculed by all but one brave pretty Gryffindor, who'd dedicated years and years to her, only to be forced aside by a jealous, cruel bully.

Admittedly, Hermione understood the tale was nowhere near as black and white; She understood that while Severus might see it so, there was no such thing as a blameless party. Still, she had never looked upon Sirius and Remus the same after learning of Severus' constant victimisation at Hogwarts. Even Harry, Sirius' constant defender and by absolutely no means a aficionado of the dreaded Snape, had qualms about the memory he'd witnessed.

Hermione kept her gaze fixed on the glowing screen in front of her, though no longer taking in the form of the young Grinch, climbing desperately up the dangerously steep mountain. Her attention was fixed on the man behind her, her own Grinch as he sat silently and stiffly against the couch. Hermione knew that at times like these, when quiet introspection caught him, an offhand remark or comment of light banter would only disturb him, and do nothing to bring him out of his reverie. Turning around and fretting over him would only make maters worse. Resolved that her present course of action -or rather, inaction- was for the best, Hermione attempted to retain her natural posture and seem oblivious. She was a terrible actor, but at these moments the man was far from focused on his immediate surroundings.

Hermione's resolution to continue viewing the film as before was easier said than done. Where before she could have watched the adult Grinch glare down at the tiny township, filled with bitter hate, and thought no more of it, now she only saw a reflection of the man she had slowly grown to care for, to care for immensely, even perhaps, possibly; to love.

The return of the narrator did very little to make things better:

"So whatever the reason, his heart or his shoes,

He stood outside his cave, hating the Whos."

Ten minutes earlier, Hermione wouldn't have faltered in issuing a reference to Severus' prior methods of teaching, as the Grinch stood atop the cliff face pronouncing his hate for all the Whos individually and alphabetically. Now, she needed no inducement to swallow the commentary. She wanted nothing more than to draw Severus against her and make the reflections go away, make him realize she was here with him, and that she cared for him, just as he was.

But she knew- being the smart witch she was- that it would be far simpler to draw water from a stone, using a needle plucked from a haystack.

So the two sat in silence as the screen swarmed with a mass of hysterically festive Whos, neither of them taking much in. Hermione tried to concentrate on the tiny Cindy Lou as she weaved her way between the crowds at the Christmas

'Whobilations', but ultimately her attention strayed until, with a start, she was brought back to the happenings on screen as the small girl let out a shrill shout.

"I nominate the Grinch"

Hermione knew she'd missed something, but it only took her a moment or two to catch up; the girl had nominated the Grinch- the veritable embodiment of anti-Christmas spirit, to be their Holiday Cheermister. Even with absolutely no idea as to what a Cheermister was supposed to be, Hermione knew the naive girls' nomination was a long shot.

God, the git had been right; if he was to be the Grinch, Hermione was the naive Cindy Lou, ready to fight a crowd of naysayers to give someone a second chance, tape recorder in hand, searching for all the facts. The resemblance only grew as the tiny girl quoted huge passages from 'The book of Who', entirely verbatim.

She spared a glance up at Severus, trying to gauge his reaction, only to see the beginning of a fierce scowl on his face. Not commenting, Hermione turned her attention back to the screen and attempted to figure out exactly what had prompted him into such a dark mood; surely the memory of his teenage years couldn't still affect him so strongly after everything else he'd been through in the last twenty years.

Hermione's lay puzzling out the strange scenario she now found her self in, and as a result missed an enormous slab of the film. When she snapped out of her reveries, no wiser for her efforts, the Narrator's voice was back again, dubbed over the image of the small Cindy Lou climbing up the inhospitable mountain.

"The whipper winds whipped high above the who town,

A trip or a slip, you'd slide all the way down.

But this girl had a mission; she knew what to do,

She'd invite the Grinch herself,

That brave Cindy Lou."

Hermione only frowned at this. If she was meant to be Cindy Lou, the naïve girl on a fool's mission, why was she sitting next to her silent brooding man with absolutely no idea what to do?

Watching the tiny Who girl bang fruitlessly on the Grinch's door, her tiny voice no match for the howling wind or the violent clanging within, Hermione tried her hardest to shake the feeling of eerie representation. She therefore watched stonily as the girl gave up the fruitless attempts at delicacy and politeness, and simply broke her way through into the Grinch's lair. The odd identification was only growing, despite her attempts at squashing it. She watched cynically as the brave, tiny girl walked straight up to the fearsome Grinch, spoke pleasantly and proceeded to calmly withstand the Grinch's screaming rage and ire, without batting an eyelid.

No, Hermione was not Cindy Lou but at least in fiction, the little girl's methods held weight. Glancing once more at Severus, she noted that his expression seemed darker than ever. Opening her mouth, Hermione steeled herself to throw all subtlety aside- she was useless with it anyway- and get to the heart of the matter.

Only to promptly shut her mouth again.

She was not Cindy Lou and he was not the Grinch and most importantly real life was not fiction. There would be no 30-minute conversation followed by a stint of character development and a new insight into the meaning of Christmas. Letting out a silent sigh, Hermione instead took the opportunity to get up, stretch and move to the kitchen. Severus barely registered her movement, or if he did, chose not to comment. She couldn't help compare this Severus to the one who, only an hour ago, had instantly picked up on her own quiet reflective mood, and coaxed her out of it without a single word.

Making her trip back from the fridge, cold bottle of water in hand and two glasses, Hermione faltered mid stride at the sight of Severus now stiffly folded into the opposite corner of the lounge, avoiding eye contact and fairly glaring at the image of the Grinch politely talking with the little Cindy Lou. Hermione, walking in, mid sentence, and sitting down as though his change of seating arrangement was perfectly normal, strained to hear the last few sentence of the dialogue, desperately hoping to finally identify what had triggered the wizard so. The little Cindy Lou still seemed to be inviting the Grinch to the Holiday 'Whobilations'

"… So will you come?"

"Oh, alright. I don't know if it's that adorable twinkle in your eye or that non-conformist streak that reminds me of a younger, less hairy, me, but you've convinced me! Who knows! This Whobilation could change my entire outlook on life!"

"Really!"

"No."

For some reason, the sight of the small Cindy Lou being unceremoniously dropped down the garbage shaft didn't fill Hermione up with even the slightest bit of ominous premonition. For some reason, Hermione felt purely and singularly fed up.

Setting the glass bottle of water and glasses down on the coffee table with a thump, she lunged for the remote and without saying a word, paused the video mid shot. Without the blaring of the TV, the growing silence only served to amplify the tension of the room tenfold.

Hermione stubbornly sat at the furthermost edge of the lounge, turning to face Severus with her arms folded, waiting for him to acknowledge her. He stubbornly continued to stare at the ghostlike image of the Grinch now frozen to the screen. She could see the muscle of his jaw working as he kept it clamped shut, and his knuckles were drawn white as his hands formed fists. Hermione felt the hostility drain out of her as she let out a weary sigh.

"Severus. Talk to me." She wasn't going to do him the injustice of asking loaded questions or hurling accusations. Curling her legs against her chest and wrapping her arms around them, Hermione took in the sight of the man as he clearly battled with himself, still staring firmly at the television.

The silence only drew and Hermione began to work her lower lip between her teeth, worrying the fraying skin there, as the silence and the distance seemed to grow between them. Just as she considered prompting him again, or perhaps leaving the room for a moment, Severus shut his eyes and flung his head back as though pleading with the ceiling.

Hermione waited a little longer, teetering on the edge of the great silence that filled the room, practically feeling the minutes trickle through her fingers. When at last Severus snapped the subtle balance of the room, his words were drawn out and precise, as though a very painful tooth was being pulled by a very skillful dentist.

"I have… to go."

He hadn't even opened his eyes.

"What!" Hermione's outburst, unrestrained and automatic, was at such heavy odds with his carefully strung sentence, that the room seemed to reverberate with the words, leaving them hanging in the silence of the air as Severus so indomitably ignored them.

Hermione Granger was not going to be ignored. This was ridiculous. They'd had the most amazing week. The most lovely, peaceful week she could ever remember spending and a stupid sodding film was not going to tarnish that.

"What do you mean you have to go? Severus what's wrong? What've I done to upset you?" Hermione's words were frantic and earnest; arriving on her tongue before thought had tempered their meaning, but for all her haste, she'd finally drawn a rise.

Severus' head shot up, his eyes flashed open as he sprang from the couch, now pacing the small living room. Throwing her disbelieving glances his words shot out in great gushes now, though perhaps no less painful.

"You haven't done anything you silly girl, don't you see? "

"No, I bloody well do not see! Can you just tell me what's wrong? Everything was fine until we started watching the film. Severus, whatever it is, you can talk to me about it." Hermione rose slowly and walked across the sitting room, attempting to clasp his hands in hers and make him look at her. Maybe she could make him see she meant it, that she was earnest; that she wanted him to stay.

Before she got within two feet of him, Hermione was stopped in her tracks by the haunted look that had over come his face. This was not a problem of casual introspection, of morbid introspection. The look in his eyes wasn't that of a wounded animal. It was the look of a man prying a mangled baby dear from a set of gory steel traps. Hermione continued to lock eyes with him, but couldn't seem to cross the two feet between them. Her mouth felt dry and the room seemed so suddenly distant from the pair of them.

"Is it Lily?"

It was a fear Hermione had refused to acknowledge, had locked in the deepest corners of her mind, hidden in the shadows of her room while they lay beside each other at night; an unspoken truth in a conversation she'd half walked in on. Even now, it fell out of her lips, a mere whisper amplified in the silent room and she immediately wished to pull it back, to bury it down once more.

Severus' strangled groan was not an answer, but it spoke volumes.

"Because I can talk about that, if you want to, I do understand Severus, I do. She was, she is, a big part of your life and who you are and I mean, of course I'm here to talk about it –"

"Stop Hermione, just stop. I can't do this."

"What so that's it you're just going to leave?!" Hermione couldn't help the note of accusation that crept into her voice at this. Yes she was scared and she was confused and she didn't want to dredge anything up or spoil everything but dammit she was still here fighting and there was no way she would be walking out.

Perhaps Severus spotted this; perhaps the tone hadn't been accusatory so much as desperate. Perhaps he simply knew she wouldn't simply go away. He exhaled heavily before drawing himself up again, the simplest of motions and yet, to Hermione, the atmosphere of the entire room had changed, it felt as though it was charged with his energy, his presence, all focused entirely on her as his words came swifter and swifter forming an unstoppable tirade.

"It's not Lilly. It's not the damned film. I don't need a film to relive my Hogwarts glory days. Contrary to popular believe the thought of old grudges is not my sole sustenance, not my means of surviving. I know more than anyone that it's possible to forget and not forgive. But it's apparent that I do need a bloody film to make me come to my senses."

"What do you mean? Severus it's a children's film. You're not actually the bloody Grinch alright?" Hermione was at her wits end, trying to grasp where this unfathomable outburst had sprung from."

"No but you, you are the child! The blonde Cindy girl, set about with a mission to befriend the downtrodden outcast; a pledge, a project, an act of charity!"

Hermione stared open mouthed at the man now pacing the floor in front of her.

"And how could you not. That's you, that's your heart. You see the good in people, even when they can't see it in themselves. People laud you as the brightest witch of your age, but it's your heart, it's your heart that's the brightest thing about you. It's your heart that I'm abusing. You… Hermione. You deserve someone young and … you deserve… Dammit! You don't deserve a bitter twisted fool, full of hate. An old, bitter, twisted fool. You shouldn't be wasting your time with me, and I shouldn't be weak and selfish enough to let you. I have to… Hermione, I can't. I can't do this anymore."

Hermione had never seen his eyes so open. Standing there, her mouth open, her face blank and her brain, for once, entirely unable to string a sentence together, and that's all Hermione could think of. That his eyes were so open and pleading and utterly unguarded, for the very first time; and it was like this.

"You're not. You're not a project, you're not an act of charity. You're not… I'm not, Severus, just. Don't go, I want you. You're not twisted or bitter or…" Hermione trailed off her as words failed her, and Severus' face fell, interpreting the pause in the worst possible way before he stalked past her out of the small living room.

How could she say he wasn't bitter when he was? How could she deny his claim of hate-filled when this entire episode had been fuelled by his own self hatred? He was a bitter, old, fool; filled with hatred, but dammit she wanted him, she cared for him, she… she didn't know just what she felt, but she knew she felt something.

Turning to follow him, Hermione battled with her brain to get the words out of her mouth but her throat felt choked, her breath short, and as she went to reach out for him, he wrenched open the door and apparated from her doorway, leaving Hermione standing, staring out at the bleak snow covered street.


A/N there it is! Don't hate me, I did classify this fic as part angst. I know it's not the most festive of fics but I hope you all liked it anyway :) Please let me know what you think, your reviews make my day!

Happy Christmas!