Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.
Thanks to VIVAvivacious for beta-ing this chapter for me.
On the sixth day of Christmas, as tradition stated, a lady was supposed to receive the gift of an egg, or something representing rebirth. Not many knew the tradition, but on that morning in the Weasley household, every woman received an egg of new life that morning. Hermione neglected to go to the breakfast table, and instead stayed in bed for a lie-in; she had been up late the night before going over her notes and adding things she remembered that might help her progress.
She stretched out over her bed and yawned softly, looking out the window at the white light of the sun shining through the full white clouds beyond the walls of the house. She had thoroughly enjoyed the night before in front of the fire in the sitting room, alone late into the night, until Snape came in wearing the warm black dressing gown over his pajamas that Hermione had yet to get used to seeing him in.
He had been her constant accidental companion during the time she had been there. She liked talking to him because he was intelligent and surprisingly easy to converse with, despite how little they would talk as opposed to just absorbing each others' presence. It was as if that was enough for both of them; then again, Hermione had never known him to be an overly-verbose person in the past.
She was startled from her thoughts when a knock sounded softly on the door, making her turn to look at her clock on the nightstand. It was nine in the morning, and she still hadn't gotten out of bed. That was a new record for her. She clambered out of bed, reaching for her wand to murmur a spell to put her hair to rights and cast the glamour before she pronounced herself finally ready to great anyone.
She had been expecting Molly Weasley or someone of a similar ilk to be standing there, but instead she found herself momentarily speechless at what greeted her: Severus Snape in black trousers with a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into the band at his hips, the top couple buttons undone and sleeves rolled to his elbows.
'Professor Snape, good morning,' she squeaked, a blush diffusing through her cheeks at being seen by him in her pajamas still.
'Miss Granger, you weren't at breakfast,' he stated obviously.
'I know, I slept in because I was up late with my research last night,' she answered sheepishly. 'Is there something you wanted?'
He shook his head and instead turned and summoned something with a crook of his long finger. A tray of breakfast floated gently into his waiting hands. 'I thought you might be interested in consuming something,' he said simply.
Hermione smiled appreciatively. 'Thank you for that, sir,' she said, indicating the coffee table in the room when he carried the tray in.
'Think nothing of it,' he replied, oblivious to the fact she was checking out his arse as he walked by.
It wasn't really that bad, actually – firm looking and scrawny, but she had never been attracted to a man with an arse the size of a barge before. Hang on – did she just even think the word attraction? She was not attracted to Severus Snape, or at least that as what she was going to tell herself. She was startled from her thoughts when she saw an intricately-decorated egg floating in her line of vision.
'What is that?' she asked, looking into his obsidian eyes.
His mouth twitched for a moment, and she thought he was going to smile at her, but no such luck. His expression remained nearly neutral, save for the slight amusement at her question lingering in his eyes. 'I should think it is obvious this is your Christmas egg, Miss Granger,' he replied bluntly.
She almost laughed at herself for asking such an obvious question. She took it from his hand with questioning fingers and examined the lovely pattern and the colors. It was all silver and white with the traces of bronze, red, and green. The work was so unmistakably thorough that Hermione knew no other could have constructed it for her than the very man standing in her room.
'You made this,' she stated, not asking – just pointing out that she knew.
'Believe what you will,' he answered.
She placed it on the pillow on her bed to cradle and protect it, and then turned around to lean up and kiss Snape on the cheek, to both of their surprise. She pulled back, blushing slightly and fidgeting with her hands behind her back. 'Thank you, Professor,' she said quietly, suddenly overcome with the need to avert her gaze.
He stood rigid and still in the middle of her room, shocked at what had just passed between them, his cheek boiling where she had kissed him. He knew that jolt of something that had surged through him. He had been feeling it increasingly more often with each passing day, any time their skin brushed or hands clashed when reaching for the same object. His feelings for her had been entirely non-existent when he had first decided to attend the Christmas gathering, but when he had first arrived, and he had seen her carrying that dish of food, she just looked so… well he couldn't even explain it, so it was obviously nothing.
He realized that he had been standing there silently for entirely too long, and without another word, he went to the door, opened it, and strode out of the room. He had to get some air, he needed to breathe and get that feeling out of him system. He couldn't feel like this, not there or with Hermione. But wait – when had he begun thinking of her as Hermione?
Growling, he walked outside into the fresh air, breathing for the first time since he had left her room and closing his eyes, surrendering to the peace and clear mind he got from being away from the predicament. Think. It was New Years Eve in just twelve hours time. What could he do with the rest of his day? Then a gust of cold wind blew across the porch and he shivered. Fuck! It was freezing out there!
He turned to go back inside, only to find the door standing open slightly and being blocked by Hermione, who had changed into a pair of jeans and a burgundy round-necked sweater. 'Professor, I'm really sorry about that before,' she apologized earnestly. 'If I offended you in any way… I really didn't mean to. I was expressing my gratitude, but I – I wasn't thinking. Forgive me, I'm rambling.'
He listened to her speech and sighed heavily. How could he refuse such an adequate apology? Especially when it was an unnecessary one. 'Miss Granger, you have not offended me, and there is nothing to forgive,' he answered formally. 'I will admit it just – surprised me.'
She smiled slightly at that, and he swore for a moment he saw a glimmer of dark shadows around her eyes, skin almost as pale as his, and gaunt facial features. But as soon as he saw it, it was gone again, and the flushed pink cheeks, not so pale skin, and fuller face returned. He must have been seeing things.
'Will you come and have tea with me in my room? I have to eat my breakfast after all, and I could use the company,' she asked carefully, afraid of rejection.
And so their dance had begun. He had not been imagining the feelings he had for her earlier or any other day, and there was most certainly some tension buzzing in the air around them. He couldn't deny it, but hell would freeze over before he even dreamed of acting on it. He should have said no to her but instead found himself following her back to the room he had emerged from.
'Would you have sugar and milk in your tea?' she asked when he was seated comfortably in the armchair by her warm fire.
'Two sugars and no milk, please,' he answered politely.
He watched as she poured tea into a china cup with a saucer for him, adding the sugar lumps and stirring clockwise exactly six times before carrying it over to him. He saw a strange glimmer in her eyes and paused for a moment to examine the situation they were in. Could she feel it too? What did she think? He considered Legilimancy, but dismissed it quickly. Without her consent it would be just rude, and he had no wish to have a conversation concerning that just yet – if ever.
They spent the rest of the day talking and looking over her Potions notes, her asking him for advice and input at odd intervals while he read a book. They moved to the sitting room at around noon, where the adults had retired to, and they continued, as they had been the entire day, in the armchairs by the fire there again. Dinner was a spectacular event, and the dining room was noisy and talkative. Even Hermione and Snape had a hard time keeping out of the conversations.
After the meal, the children raced around with Christmas crackers for the evening, and everyone got partnered up to pull them open. Hermione pulled hers with Snape, and his also, and then the entire room was filled with people drinking, talking, and wearing absurd-looking party hats. The jokes that came in the bon-bon were ridiculous, and Hermione found herself laughing at Snape heartily as he tried to tell his with a straight face.
He failed miserably in the end and chuckled softly with her.
Just before midnight, the children were sent up to bed, grumbling as Molly hustled them out, and only the adults were left. Snape sat next to Hermione on the couch by the fire, silently enjoying her company, while the rest of them stayed at the table in the dining room and drank to the count down to the New Year.
Snape himself gazed at his pocket-watch and counted down mentally along with the sound of the gathering next door, and when the clock struck twelve, he looked towards Hermione, who was oblivious and in a daze, gazing at the flames of the fire. Taking the opportunity, he leaned over and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. She turned and looked at him sharply, surprised and confused at the same time.
'Happy New Year, Hermione,' he said silkily. Her smile then was worth every nerve he had summoned to actually kiss her.
A/N – Yes, this chapter is supposed to be sickly sweet.