Chapter 2 - Christmas 1981

Severus couldn't settle. He felt overcome with lethargy but trapped all the same. He didn't want to have to face anyone but he wanted nothing more than to leave his rooms. Dumbledore hadn't confined him to the school grounds in so many words but he had made it clear that it would be in Severus' best interest if he was to lay low both inside the castle and in the outside world. The knock on his door made Severus start, and he realised that dusk had fallen and the fire he had been staring into was nothing more than embers.

"Who is it?" he asked, wand gripped in his hand.

"Father Christmas," came the dry reply, the clipped Scottish brogue easily recognisable. He opened the door, standing defensively in the gap.

"What can I do for you Professor McGonagall?" he asked perfunctorily.

"Minerva," she corrected him, as she had each and every time he'd used her title since Dumbledore had summoned her to his office the previous week. "Put your coat on Severus," she continued, "Do you own a muggle coat?" she added after a moment.

"Wha…? Why?" he asked.

"We're going out."

"Where?"

"You'll find out. Now, do you have an appropriate outer garment or shall I…?" she asked, lifting her wand and gesturing vaguely presumably in an offer to transfigure something.

"Muggle?" he asked after a moment. Minerva nodded briskly, leaning up against the door jam and folding her arms, as though daring him to close the door in her face.

"And hurry up," she called at his retreating back, "we don't want to be late."

He'd gone with her, mostly because he quite liked the idea of someone else being in charge. For some reason he found her presence, even when she was haranguing him, to be far less demanding than anyone else. He'd almost balked when she'd taken his arm to guide him to an apparition destination, and again when he realised where it was that she was leading him.

"I…" he stuttered, stopping at the bottom of the church steps. "I don't know what you might have read into… I don't believe."

"Severus, this is Nine Lessons and Carols not your baptism. No one's expecting a confession of faith," her tone was as dry as ever, but she wasn't mocking him. Despite her reassurance, he couldn't bring himself to relax though and after a moment she released her hold on his arm, but didn't look away from his face. "This is something I always do, Severus. It is something I take for myself because being here, being part of this ritual brings me comfort. I thought you might find some solace in it too but I certainly won't force you."

It had taken him a moment, but eventually he'd nodded abruptly and then allowed Minerva to lead him into the cool building. He'd taken the folded paper from the stranger at the door, recognising the words they contained though it had been years since he'd last seen them, then followed Minerva as she'd slid into a wooden pew. Despite his initial hesitation, he found himself relaxing in the subdued atmosphere. The candlelight was dim enough that he didn't feel exposed and, when the service began, the music seemed to… he couldn't put it into words. He had been so absorbed in the voices of the choir, he'd been taken aback when everyone around him stood but he followed suit and after a gentle elbow in the ribs from Minerva, had begun to sing.

"You have a lovely voice," Minerva said later as they'd sat in a local pub, both nursing mugs of mulled wine.

"They should have added another clove." She let it slide. The next year the mulled wine was better.

A/N: Thanks for reading - please let me know your thoughts! Lx