Don we now our gay apparel

Soon after Andromeda had left, they all retreated to their respective rooms to freshen-up and change into something more festive for Christmas dinner. Kreacher had insisted that it would be served in the dining room, as appropriate in the noble former house of Black. He seemed determined to make it shine in new splendour, not only in decor, but also in identity, and hosting the Christmas festivities for so many war heroes was just the occasion to do it justice. He would make his new master proud.

Hermione, who welcomed the opportunity to make an impression just as much as Kreacher, had bought herself a new dress with that purpose in mind. It was of a beautiful golden-bronze colour that not only befit the occasion, but also matched perfectly with her hair, which she had styled into a half-updo with her new gift wand. A pair of hanging earrings perfected her ensemble.

Looking into the mirror, Hermione was very satisfied with her appearance. Unlike school uniforms, which were designed to make students look rather undistinguishable and hid their forms beneath layers of cloth, this dress hugged her in just the right places, displaying her womanly shape in a subtle, but tantalizing way. She certainly didn't look like a pupil now, but every inch the twenty year old woman she was – taking into account the roughly ten months she had added to her age during her third year – or the even older one she felt like. It gave her butterflies to anticipate how the man she was hoping to appeal to might react... the good, tingly kind, but also the slightly jittery ones. Well, there was just one way to find out. Hermione put on her heels, which made a great job of making her seem taller, and made for the door.

She wasn't to be disappointed. Severus had a hard time keeping his face straight when he saw her enter the dining room. He knew too little about a woman's styling tricks and the effects of attire, hair-do and make-up to understand how such a transformation was possible within half an hour. He probably would have realized that wearing a nice dress, elevated heels and subtle make-up gave you a boost of self-confidence, and that just knowing you looked presentable affected your posture and your entire body language – if he had pondered it more deeply. Except that he wasn't capable of analysing it at the moment. He could only stare awe-struck at this mature and elegant woman that Hermione Granger, the know-it-all bane of his serenity, had suddenly morphed into.

Fortunately for him, neither Harry nor Draco nor Remus noticed his bewilderment, as they were also looking at Hermione, and contrary to him, didn't have their features under control.

"Wow," Harry put their sentiments into a simple, but nonetheless fitting word, "you look fantastic, Hermione!"

Hermione smiled, blushing only slightly when she threw a quick glance at Severus and saw that she had succeeded in her endeavour. "Thank you, Harry! You all have dressed up rather nicely, too..." It was true. While she wouldn't have expected differently from Draco, who had always been vain and believed in the old adage that clothes made the man, Harry could usually not be bothered to use a comb. But he, too, was dressed in his finest and had obviously even tried to tame his hair, which was just as bothersome as Hermione's. She briefly wondered if Severus had gifted him with his miraculous hair potion, too.

Luna was wearing a glittering pink dress, probably standing strong in her fight against all Gloomilows. The Christmas tree earrings from her stocking dangled clearly visible from her ear lobes, as she had borrowed Hermione's wand for an updo as well. Contrary to Hermione, though, she had found that the up-twisted braids that resembled antlers were just the right style for the occasion. In her own special way, she was a sight to behold.

Remus didn't own expensive pieces of clothing and always looked a bit ragged, but his shirt was starched and clean and he wore a fitting tie. And Severus...

Hermione dared not let her eyes linger on him longer than for a short perusal, although she wanted to. He was wearing a frock coat as usual, but one that was different in style from what he normally wore. Though distinctively Victorian, it was deep charcoal instead of the usual black. The back was much longer than the front and had a wide swallow-tail – probably to make up for the missing teaching robe. The short and open-cut front revealed a paisley-patterned waistcoat of the same colour and the waistband of his trousers. Hermione, who had never seen more of his legs then the part below his knees, realized for the first time how long they were.

Just like the frock coats he wore in school, this one had a very high and stiff collar. It wasn't buttoned-up to his chin, but he had put on a neck-cloth on top of his shirt so that still no inch of skin was revealed. He probably was even more self-conscious about exposing his neck after the terrible injury he sustained.

What the outfit was lacking in colour, the subtle blend of patterns and materials – paisley and pin-stripes, wool, silk and cotton, certainly made up for. Of course, there were a lot of shiny buttons on his vest, on the cuffs of the coat and even three little buttons on the waistband of his trousers. They gave his attire a festive touch, but still in an understated way. Actually, it looked elegantly steampunk, and Hermione found that it suited him perfectly.

Severus was well-aware of her ogling, despite her attempts to be unobtrusive about it. Gryffindors! They just didn't have any subtlety at all. But for once, it made him smirk. She couldn't hide her surprise nor her approval. Though none of his students would ever have guessed, he knew how to dress up. Narcissa had taught him well. In his earlier Death Eater days, he had enjoyed doing so. After suffering through most of his Hogwarts years in badly fitting, ragged clothing, he knew how important clothes were to make an impression. The Dark Lord had been generous in his support while Severus apprenticed under a renowned Potions Master. Not only had he paid for his accommodation, but also granted him an allowance for personal expenses. Dressing like his Pure-Blood brethren had served many purposes: visibly severing all ties to his poor Muggle upbringing, establishing himself firmly as a wizard, and boldly claiming a place among their ranks. It had made himself feel worthy. The Dark Lord had understood this need to belong, and by generously helping him in this endeavour, he had further bound Severus to him and assured his gratitude.

Forgoing elegant and expensive clothes later on had been an expression of his internal rebellion, though he had justified it with his position as a Hogwarts professor. He had only needed to dress-up for the occasional dinner party at the Malfoys, and had entirely given up on it after the Dark Lord's first demise. From then on, cultivating his dungeon bat image – severe, unapproachable and dark – had given him a perverse kind of satisfaction and was befitting of his mental and emotional state at the time. First, he had been in mourning. In the following years, he'd become miserable and depressed.

But now, with his spirits suddenly soaring again because of that insufferable Gryffindor who had somehow wormed her way into his heart and made him aware that it was capable of doing more than just beating monotonously, he suddenly felt like dressing up again. While there had been no reason for him to pay more than the minimum of attention to his appearance in recent years, there certainly was no reason to continue neglecting himself now.

And if he was fully honest with himself, he wanted to impress her. Though he would never match her in attractiveness, no matter how much he dolled himself up, a tiny part in him wanted to convince her – and himself – that she would at least not have to be embarrassed to be seen with him. And judging by the not-so-subtle, admiring glances she kept throwing in his direction, his efforts had paid ofF.

"Miss Granger..." he said, his throat dry as he moved the chair out for her at the dining table. "You look very fetching tonight." She always looked fetching, unruly hair and all, but her school uniform thankfully allowed him to refrain from dwelling on it.

"Hermione..." she corrected, a bit flustered, taking the offered seat. "Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself."

Taking in the decorations in the dining room and the festively laid table, Hermione was relieved to notice that none of them were overdressed for the occasion. It looked like they were in for a five-course meal. Kreacher obviously had every intention of entertaining in style.

Like the perfect little butler, he served them pre-dinner drinks as soon as they had taken their seats. There were Christmas crackers waiting on each of their plates, which they pulled open with their neighbour at their right. The one Severus and Hermione popped contained a hairpin which Severus graciously let her to keep, although he had been the one ending up with the larger part of the cracker. He allowed her to keep the paper crown as well, though he waved his wand at it to change it from blue to a bronze tone that perfectly matched her dress.

Luckily, Draco won the paper hat in Severus' cracker and the discussion about whether it was compulsory to wear it or not was gracefully avoided. Hermione strongly suspected that his tolerance for Christmas merriment would have ended there. Luna ended up with two hats, which she magically fused into a single, larger one, looking like a two-coloured crown. With her hair-antlers sticking out from the top of it and the Christmas tree earrings, she made a rather funny picture, but somehow, she managed to wear it all with a solemn dignity no one else could have pulled off.

"I wonder why we bother," said Draco, who had donned his paper crown despite his obvious disdain. "These hats are ridiculous, the jokes incredibly bad and the gifts useless. What am I to do with a set of miniature screwdrivers?"

"The jokes aren't supposed to be funny," Hermione pointed out. "It's part of the tradition. You're already missing out on the Queen's speech."

"Whose speech?" asked Luna interested.

"The Muggles' head of state," explained Draco, much to Harry's and Hermione's surprise. "What? I'm not totally ignorant, you know? Still, it's a good thing that old Fudge never expected wizards to sit in front of the wizarding wireless to hear him give a speech on Christmas day."

"Thank Merlin for small mercies," Severus put in drily.

"I like these traditions," declared Harry. "The gifts in the crackers were the only decent gifts I ever got as a kid."

"Yes, I remember," said Hermione, frowning. "For your first Christmas at Hogwarts, your aunt and your uncle sent you a 50 pence piece. I couldn't believe it."

"That was actually one of the best gifts they ever got me," Harry laughed. "It got worse from there. They sent me a toothpick in second year and a tissue in third. Not to forget the dog biscuits from Aunt Marge."

Draco's spoon paused halfway to his mouth. "Please tell me you're kidding..."

"No, it's as sad as it's true," Hermione confirmed. "Though I still fail to understand why they bothered at all. I mean – sending someone a toothpick? There must have been some kind of meaning behind it, at least. An insult?"

Severus, who looked as flabbergasted as everybody else, shook his head. "I highly doubt that it was a hidden message. Petunia had no subtlety at all, and her husband seemed to have the intelligence of a huge sack of plain flour, and he looked like one, too."

Harry chuckled. "He really did, didn't he? But I eventually found out what – or rather who – was behind those weird presents. It was Dumbledore and Hedwig."

"Your owl?" asked Luna.

"Yes. When I had put my name on the list of students who wanted to stay at Hogwarts, Dumbledore sent Hedwig to the Dursleys to inform them about it. He also hinted that the owl would take back any presents they intended to send me. Maybe Dumbledore already rightfully suspected that those presents wouldn't be too big in size or number for her to carry... Anyway, Hedwig refused to leave without being given something for the return trip. So Uncle Vernon hastily wrapped 50 cents and scribbled a note. When the same thing happened next year again, they figured out that they could give poor Hedwig just about anything – it's not like she was able to judge what made a decent present. From then on, they probably had fun grabbing the most ridiculous things that were handy whenever she showed up."

Draco looked aghast. "What a bunch of tossers!"

Harry just shrugged. "Yeah, well... they were. Good thing I have nothing to do with them anymore. But even though they were mean-spirited on every other day, the spirit of Christmas mellowed them out a bit, and I was always allowed to keep the trinkets in my crackers."

Thankfully, Kreacher saved them all from having to come up with a decent comment for this rather pathetic and pitiful childhood memory as he arrived with the starters – a delicious looking chicken liver parfait with sultanas and raisins.

Conversation quieted as everyone savoured the treat they were being served. The meals at Hogwarts weren't bad, but the food was intended for teenagers, and even house elves wouldn't throw pearls before swine – literally speaking. With a shudder, Hermione remembered Ron's atrocious table manners. The difference between him and her current table neighbour couldn't have been more obvious.

Hermione had never seen a person eat as neatly, meticulously and elegantly as he did. He sat almost rock straight, used both pieces of cutlery and actually moved the fork to his mouth instead of the other way round, differently from her childhood friend, who had almost lain on the table to more conveniently shovel the food into his mouth. Ron had also always judged the complicated handling of a knife superfluous, considering that he had teeth. Severus cut everything on his plate with astonishing precision into equally sized pieces – probably a habit he had formed during potion making. He took small bites and chewed daintily, never opening his mouth before he had swallowed, and dabbing his mouth with his napkin before taking a sip of wine or water.

It made him a rather taciturn table neighbour, but Hermione vastly preferred it over being given deep insight into Ron's chewing process. She wondered when and why Severus had developed this particular habit... Was it a means to ensure no one would be paying him unwanted attention? Had he come to value good manners because they allowed him to separate himself from his unrefined up-bringing? That would make sense... His distinguished and very sophisticated manner of speaking also seemed so at odds with his background. His understated, but definitely expensive attire... The subtlety in everything he did. His erudition. He had probably come to cherish all of this in his late youth, when he had begun to fight for and claim his place in the world.

"Just what it is that has you staring at my fork with such utter fascination?" Severus asked a bit self-consciously when he noticed her intent gaze. "You have the same food on your own plate. I suggest you give it a try before it gets cold, it's delicious."

"I enjoy watching you eat," Hermione answered honestly, which made him blink in bewilderment.

"You certainly have most peculiar hobbies..." he murmured, clearing his plate and putting down knife and fork neatly beside each other.

"Oh, you have no idea..." said Hermione, thinking of what else she liked to see or imagine him do with his hands and mouth, with such control, concentration and confidence. It often made for great, private entertainment.

He raised his eyebrows at that, feeling sure that her remark had been naughty, though he had no inkling what she was talking about. He wisely chose not comment.

Not long after Kreacher had magically cleared away their plates, he served the main dish. He had really outdone himself. As impressed as they all had been with his cooking abilities after breakfast and the truly exquisite appetiser – it was nothing compared to the classic roast turkey they were served as main course, complete with all the trimmings: Pigs-in-blankets, chunky roast potatoes, honey-roasted carrots, crisp honey mustard parsnips and Christmas spiced red cabbage, not to forget the bread and cranberry sauce. At a snap of his spindly fingers, it all appeared on the table. Somehow, house-elves had mastered the skill of apparating objects, something no wizard was capable of doing.

It wasn't the only impressive feat they marvelled at. "Kreacher," Harry asked the elf, flabbergasted. "Just how on Earth have you managed to prepare all this?"

Kreacher looked at him with a peculiar mixture of pride, happiness and a guilty conscience. "Kreacher knows how to prepare festive meals, Sir. It has been his duty for many years when serving his mistress. But..." he paused, then added sheepishly: "Kreacher followed his Master's best friend's advice and asked for help."

"You did?" Harry looked confused. As far as he knew, nobody had been in the kitchen since breakfast, and Kreacher surely hadn't approached him for assistance.

"Kreacher has asked Winky to come," the elf explained, flapping his ears. "Not much to do at Hogwarts during the holidays. Winky needs work, or Winky will become distressed again."

"Winky?" asked Draco in surprise. "Isn't that Mr. Crouch's old house-elf?" He vaguely remembered seeing her at the Quidditch World Cup. Not that he would normally have taken notice of a house elf, but her appearance had drawn attention at the time. Elves were usually left where they belonged: in the houses of their masters, where they could perform their duties in an unobtrusive way. Why Crouch had chosen to take her to the Quidditch Cup, he had no idea.

"She used to be his elf," corrected Severus. "He kicked her out of his service when his son escaped from his house-arrest. She's been in Hogwarts ever since. Mostly drinking."

"She took it very badly and was in a very bad shape for a long time," Harry tried to excuse Winky's ill habit. "For her, being freed was the utmost disgrace. She was like a child that had been kicked out of the family, poor thing. But I know she was one of the elves who followed Kreacher's lead in the Battle of Hogwarts and helped fight against the Death Eaters."

"Winky was very brave, Sir," Kreacher nodded. "She is a good elf. Winky understands the honour of servitude."

"And you actually managed to persuade her to come here?"

"Kreacher will punish himself most severely if he has displeased his master by asking," the elf declared solemnly.

Draco shook his head in disbelief. The house-elf should never have taken the initiative and gone behind his master's back in the first place. Harry really had a knack of surrounding himself with the most peculiar characters. He had tricked his father into freeing Dobby... that elf had really been an oddball. While his father had been extremely displeased about the loss of a house-elf, his mother had been secretly relieved to be rid of him. He had always been more trouble than he was worth. Yet Harry didn't seem to find the fact that his house-elf had acted out of his own volition perturbing. On the contrary.

"I told you, there will be no punishing in this house!" he told the elf sternly, then smiled. "Besides, I think you did great. I think Winky needs someone to look out for her."

"Yes," Hermione readily agreed. "Who could understand her better than you, Kreacher? You have always been as loyal to your mistress as Winky was to her master. Dobby never understood that, and so she couldn't respect him. But I'm sure she respects you."

To Draco's amazement, Kreacher blushed. Who would have guessed that house-elves could do that?

"Master's friend is being very kind. But is right, too. Winky needs..." he paused, searching for the right words.

"A kick in the butt?" Draco helpfully offered, which caused Hermione to stare at him, aghast.

"How can you say such a thing," she immediately went off. "There will be no more kicking of house-elves in this house! I thought you agreed that your father's treatment of elves was despicable! I thought you..."

"Take a breath, Granger, and come down again! I meant that purely in a figurative sense. If she was drinking and wallowing in self-pity like Harry said she was, she might indeed need a firm hand to pull her out of her own mess."

"Mr. Potter's honourable guest is right, Miss," Kreacher agreed. "Winky needs Kreacher, needs instructions, needs to be given tasks. Lazing about is not good for house-elves."

"Fine," said Harry after brief consideration. "If Hogwarts can spare her..." He looked inquiringly at Severus, who made a conceding gesture. One elf more or less, Hogwarts wouldn't ever notice. "In that case she is welcome to stay here."

Kreacher's eyes lit up, and he bowed to Harry. "Kreacher will inform Winky that she is now to serve in the Noble House of Harry Potter," he said in a dignified manner and disappeared with a plop.

"I wonder..." Harry said pensively, while they all started eating, "if there is a way to enslave a house-elf again..."

"Harry!" Hermione protested. "You cannot possibly mean to..."

"Well, it's obvious that not belonging to anyone made Winky unhappy," Harry defended his idea. "Unlike Dobby, she never wanted to be free. Maybe she would like to belong to a wizarding family again. Couldn't we give her to the Weasleys?"

"I'm afraid you both still don't understand house-elves," Severus said, in between bites of the truly delicious dish, and threw a side glance at Hermione. "It doesn't work like that."

"Well, I understand now that a free elf is not necessarily a happy elf, but why is it that the Weasleys never had an elf of their own? Considering that they are slaves, can't you just buy them somewhere?"

"That's the point you're still not getting, Granger," Draco put in. "They're not slaves. They aren't sold. House-elves come with the building, and they only inhabit castles, manors or distinguished wizard mansions. You cannot put them into just any house. They will only thrive and breed in big enough places with lots of magical energy. That's why Hogwarts has so many elves."

"But I thought they were bound to the family, not the place..."

"It's both. If the last member of a family who has house-elves bound to them dies, the house-elves will stay in the house for a while. They are not free, but have no master, either. The only way to buy a house-elf would be to buy such a house – the new owner can bind them to the family and make themselves their new master. And you can imagine that such properties are rare on the market and extremely expensive."

"What if Muggles buy the place?"

"Then the house elves will leave and seek sanctuary with other families who own elves and live in an acceptable dwelling."

"Or they stay and make life difficult for those unsuspecting Muggles..." Remus threw in. "It's been known to happen on occasion. The new owners believe the house to be haunted..."

"So they are not bred and sold?" Hermione asked, somewhat relieved that there weren't house-elf slave markets.

"No. The young house-elves are automatically bound to the same family. The only way to undo this binding is to free them."

"But what if you do that – can you sell him then, to another mansion?"

"No. Because if you free him, he's not yours to sell anymore."

"Then how can elves ever reproduce within the same family and the same building? I suppose they don't mate with their relatives?"

"Again – no. House-elves can be exchanged for one another. If the house-elves agree to swap places, that is. He's then adopted into the new family by a bonding ritual which transfers ownership."

"Oh," said Harry, eyes lighting up with interest. "So it is possible to bind a house-elf to a new place?"

"Like Draco said – only to acceptable buildings," Severus put in. "It has to do with the magic embedded in the walls, which, by the way, need to be made from natural stone, not wood. Only places that have housed wizards for a very long time seem to accumulate enough excess magic for house-elves tap into it. It's a symbiotic relationship, in a way. House-elves need the magical aura of wizards to thrive. I'm not sure if they even have magic of their own, apart from what they draw from the stones that make the building. You can't just move into a muggle apartment and bring your house-elf, even if your family owns them. They'll get sick and eventually die."

"But Grimmauld Place is a suitable place for house-elves, obviously. So theoretically, it would be possible to adopt Winky by performing a bonding ritual if I did it, being the master of the house?"

"Yes, unless you are squeamish. It's a blood binding, and is therefore considered dark magic by some. Another reason why rich, pureblood wizards were more likely to be accused of dabbling in the Dark Arts."

Hermione was hanging mesmerised on his lips – at this moment, not so much for their sensuality, but because of this whole new world of knowledge he had just opened up for her. She really regretted being so uninformed and clueless about wizarding customs and traditions. Who would have thought that not only Muggleborns and Muggles were often misjudged by pureblood wizards, but that Purebloods were misunderstood and ill-judged as well? And these fascinating facts about house-elves begged to be studied in much more depth... Why did houses need to be made out of natural stone? Did stone absorb a wizard's magic? Where did house-elves come from? Hermione wondered if they might have been dwellers or guardians of places that had a lot of natural, magical energy – like Stonehenge. Thinking of that, they might even have been the creators of said mystical places...

"Well, I have no intentions of rushing into it," Harry said, shrugging. "But if Winky turns out to be happy here, I'd like to look into the matter. I've always felt bad for Kreacher for being alone."

"Oh, cute!" Luna applauded. "You might even get little house-elf babies, if the family grows."

"Seriously?" Harry looked flabberghasted. "How old is Kreacher, anyway? He was around when Regulus Black was a boy... he seems ancient."

That doesn't mean anything," said Draco. "House-elves take many years to reach maturity, but they stay fertile until they die. No matter how old Kreacher is, he could still father offspring, and Winky is still fairly young."

It certainly wouldn't be the only slightly mis-matched couple, age-wise, Hermione thought. Remus and Tonks had been years apart, too, and they still had Teddy. She stole another glance at the man at her right. She surely wasn't planning kids and a wedding yet. But a few years down the road...

Severus caught her gaze and raised an inquiring eyebrow. She just gave him a smile, which, certainly accidentally and unconsciously, he returned. God, he really did look incredibly handsome tonight. It was not just the fact that he wasn't wearing his usual coat, because she liked that on him as well. Hermione strongly suspected that he had used the customized hair potion, too – his hair looked fuller than months ago and not at all oily. And she really had to ask him for the recipe of his toothpaste – not only had she noticed that it made his breath smell really clean and fresh, but his teeth now were almost brighter than her own, despite all her flossing. True, they were still a bit crooked, but for some reason, she found it more appealing than a artificially perfect Hollywood-kind of smile.

Watching him eat and seeing him smile, it occurred to her that his mouth looked delectable. It was a weird realisation, given that Hermione had never thought of any mouth in these terms. But Severus' lips had a really interesting shape that she found utterly fascinating. She couldn't help outlining them with her gaze, and even found herself wishing to she could do so with her tongue. She felt heat rise in her cheeks and quickly tore her eyes away. Seriously, were did those thoughts come from?

Severus looked curiously at the girl next to him. He had caught her staring at him many a time through dinner, and frankly, he found it a bit unsettling. As unlikely at it was, he could have sworn that she had just devoured him with her eyes. There had been an almost lustful expression in them, and her flushed face seemed to confirm his suspicions. He didn't quite know how to feel about that. Extremely flattered, there was no denying that. And also, which gave much more reason for concern, aroused. At the same time, he felt incredibly guilty and embarrassed. She was still his pupil, damn him! He shouldn't be thinking about her like that, and he certainly shouldn't be reacting to her like that!

He shifted a bit uncomfortably in his chair and tried to focus his attention on Harry and Luna – anything but the alluring little witch by his side. But their topic of conversation – whether one might find crumbled oat shortcakes or something in South America – didn't really catch his interest, so he listened in on Remus and Draco instead, who were discussing the difficulties of teaching Defense against the Dark Arts to traumatized pupils. He could well contribute to that, and soon, Hermione joined in, explaining some of her own difficulties with facing another wizard in a duel. Severus silently vowed to do address that problem of hers as well when they got back to Hogwarts. For her sake, but also for his own peace of mind. He needed her safe.

Conversation continued to flow easy throughout dinner and was only interrupted once again when Kreacher brought in the traditional Christmas cake for dessert and Harry rose from his seat, glass in hand.

"You all know I'm not really fond of speeches, and you don't have to worry, because I won't be giving one..." he said, clearing his throat. "I just wanted to let you all know how happy I am that you're all here to celebrate Christmas with me. If anybody had told years ago me who'd be sitting at this table with me tonight, I would have thought him mad and probably told him so. But as strange as this little group might be, you all have come to mean a lot to me. You've all been with me for a very long time and have helped me find my way – be it gently and insistently..." his eyes went to Remus before he smiled fondly at Hermione, "... secretly and uncompromisingly" – he grinned at Severus – "or even unknowingly or unobtrusively." He nodded at Draco and Luna and his eyes softened. "I'm really awed, honoured and happy to count you all among my friends. This is to friendship..." He lifted his glass for a toast, "... and to new beginnings. Happy Christmas, everybody!"

"Happy Christmas!" they echoed more or less in chorus, and Hermione felt her eyes mist over. Even without her parents and without another relative in the world, she, like Harry, still had these people... a brother in everything but blood, a teacher and mentor, her friends and the man she wanted as partner and lover. It was a very happy Christmas, indeed.

A/N: Check my this website (or my dropbox, if that doesn't work) for the frock coat Severus is wearing: (Sadly, FFN does not allow to post links unless you put in lot of blanks. You have to remove those)

w w w . ama zon . de /Tiny-Time-Schwarz-Halloween-Cosplay/dp/B074RZHHLV/ref=pd_sbs_193_5?_encoding=UTF8&refRID=715XWP535RW4SMKY7ZH8)

(Sorry, blanks didn't really help with the following links... I really had to butcher them)

w w w . dropb oxdotc om / s / wxfm9pro6n1zj2t / Severus % 27 % 20 Dinner % 20 Costume . png ? dl=0

I also posted a link in chapter 3 and uploaded a screen shot of the transfiguration of Mudblood into Powerful if you want to check that out.

w w w . dropb oxdotc om / s / qmv499rrgc2a813 / Powerful . png ? dl=0