Chapter 6

Early Christmas morning, Snape was alone in his dormitory room, still asleep, when something bounced on the end of his bed, jolting him awake. He shouted, still half in a dream, grabbing for his wand, but stopped when he realized it was only Selda, grinning, in a dark green nightgown, her hair pulled in a braid over one shoulder.

"Happy Christmas!" she told him cheerily, bouncing a little more on the mattress, her hands hidden behind her back.

He sat up and rubbed his face. "Ugh, Selly, you scared the dickens out of me. What time is it, anyway?" It did not seem very light outside, even taking into account the iced lake water out the window. Ridiculously early, and here he was in his overlarge nightshirt. He pulled the covers up more securely around his waist. She'd never come into his room before.

"Time for presents, of course!" she said. "Didn't you hang up your stocking last night?"

"No," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Do I look five years old?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, Severus. But what about your mother, doesn't she send you anything for Christmas?"

He shrugged. "Not much. What about you?"

"My older brother sent some books." She paused, then said, "So I guess you'll just have to hold out your hands, then."

"What?"

"For your present from me." She waited, expectantly.

He looked at her askance, but put out his hands.

"And close your eyes," she insisted. He rolled his eyes, but closed them, and then felt her set something hard and cornered into his hands.

"All right, you can look," she said.

Opening his eyes, he saw a small, square wooden box with a hinged lid in his palms. It was very plain, made of dark, polished wood, but felt sturdy. "Oh," he said. "A box."

She smacked his knee. "Open it, you idiot," she told him.

Pushing back the lid, he saw that it had a small tray in the top filled with clear glass phials. He lifted off the tray, and then found that he could reach his hand all the way into the box, though it was much too small for that, and pull out a canvas bag with a label: Eagle Owl Feathers. Then a jar that said Armadillo Bile, and another bag: Starthistle.

"Selda," he said, "how much is in here?"

She smiled. "I put an Extension Charm on the box," she said. "And put in a few supplies. I don't know how many things you can fit in altogether, but it's a fair few." She looked at him, a little anxiously. "A portable Potions cupboard. I hope you like it."

"Like it?" he said, still peering in and pulling out more jars and bottles. "Selly, it's the best..." He sputtered, feeling stupid and inadequate. "Thank you," he said, looking into her eyes.

She turned red, but smiled. "Good. I'm glad."

Now Snape felt like an idiot. "I, um, have something for you, but it's small, it's nowhere near as good as this." He turned, setting the box on the bedside table, groped under his bed, and pulled out a small parcel wrapped in a blue cloth. He already wanted to make excuses for it, but bit his tongue and merely said, "Happy Christmas," as he handed it to her.

Selda looked pleased just holding the package, and settled herself cross-legged at the foot of the bed. She slowly unwound the cloth. It seemed to take forever for her to get to the center, revealing a roughly-carved and brightly-colored figure of a bird on a perch.

"Oh!" she said after half a second, her face clearing. "A phoenix!"

Snape grimaced. "At least it's recognizable." She opened her mouth, probably to protest, but he shook his head. "Tap it with your wand," he told her.

She looked at him quizzically, but took out her wand and did so. The little figure began to move, stiffly, ungracefully. It stretched, then opened its beak jerkily. But a perfect sound of phoenix song, low and a bit melancholy, came out.

Selda's mouth fell open as she listened. "Severus, it sounds beautiful!" she said, looking up at him. "Did you make it?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, but nodded. He'd put all his effort into the charm for the song - at least that was decent. "Only I know sometimes you have bad dreams and all," he muttered, looking away. "You have your own shield charms and protection spells, I thought maybe you'd like a little music at night, while you're going to sleep." Stupid idea, he thought now. He didn't have much to spend on presents though, and it had been the best thing he could think of.

Selda's hand appeared in his line of sight, touching his knee through the blanket. "It's not a stupid idea," she said quietly. "It's the best gift anyone's given me." He looked up. "Ever."

"Well... good," he said.

He leaned down and kissed her gently, lips barely brushing hers. She gave a tiny sighing sound and moved nearer, deepening the kiss, and he put his hands into her hair. Was this the moment? Taking a breath, he traced the fingers of one hand along her cheek, down her neck, just under the edge of the collar of her nightgown. She made a sound, almost a hum, into his mouth, reached her own hand up to her buttons and began to undo them. At the same time, she laid a hand on his chest and tugged on the laces at the top of his nightshirt. His head was swirling, and he reached around her, drawing her closer with a low noise almost like a growl.

Suddenly she pulled back, not quite out of his reach, her collar hanging open five buttons' worth, the lovely curve of her breasts exposed... he blinked hard, and shook his head slightly, trying to clear it. What was happening?

Before he could speak, she put her hands over her face and bent double over her knees, mumbling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…."

"Selly? Are you…?" He wanted to reach out, put his arms around her, but he didn't dare. Instead, he slid off the bed and knelt on the floor, trying to see into her face. Cautiously, he put a hand on her head. She turned her face and looked at him – dry-eyed, but her breathing was shuddery.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, stroking her face where the tears would have been. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…."

She gave a choked half-laugh. "Severus, you are the shyest, slowest-moving boy I've ever… I've been wanting you to do that forever." Really? The thought skidded across his mind, then disappeared as she touched his face, his mouth. "I thought maybe you didn't want to," she said.

He snorted incredulously. "Only every day," he said. She half-laughed, half-sobbed again, and kissed his hand, closing her eyes. He brushed her eyelids with his thumb, so softly. It had occurred to him that something like this might happen. He didn't know details about her life over the summers, but…. "I'm still sorry. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

She turned her head back, pressing her face into the mattress, and this time a real sob escaped her. "But I do want to," she said at last, and the pain in her voice stabbed at him. "I…." She looked at him again. "This isn't my… first," she said, watching his face carefully. The not-boyfriends, he thought, and though this twisted in his gut as well, he kept his face very still and nodded. "But it is the first time that I want to… to be here for it all." She closed her eyes. "But it's hard, my mind keeps trying to sort of escape, I guess? And sometimes I'm just… afraid."

Snape wished he could kill her father, poison him slowly, feed him alive piece by piece to an Acromantula… but they were practicing, trying to break the curse, and dementors would be better than anything he could think up. And none of that was what mattered right now. "I know," he said as gently as he could. "Just tell me. Anything I can, anything you want me to do…."

She looked at him and half-smiled, a little mischievously. "Anything? Oh my…."

Snape felt his cheeks growing red. He wanted to disappear under the bed. "Or not do," he said, a little sullenly. "It's not like I really know what I'm doing." He blushed harder. Just shut your mouth, he told himself, horrified, now wanting to sink through the floor, waiting for laughter, or an awkward silence, or….

Selda slid down off the bed with a thump, landing right in his lap, and pulled him into a fantastic, head-spinning kiss. It knocked every thought clear out of his mind, and when she moaned against his tongue and arched her neck, he automatically kissed his way down it, over her collarbone, to her open neckline, the swell of her cleavage….

They broke off, both panting. She looked into his eyes and said, earnestly, with a wide-eyed trace of a smile, "Could have fooled me."