A/N: God, I'm so sorry. I know I'm being just awful about updating. My life falling apart at the seams should be no excuse, damnit! Ok, I'' trying for levity here. I've just been really busy (blame it on Moby Dick if you want…BTW, I'm a lit major, so that wasn't some metaphor for my personal life) and a little bit blocked. But it's possible that I may have written a chapter and forgot to post it, or Ffnet was down at the time or something…in which case this will be the second of 2 chps. Posted tonight, and then, well, aren't I just the coolest?! No? Fine, be that way. Sincerely though, thank you all for reviewing and hopefully sticking with me here. If it makes you feel any better, you faithful readers are not the only people I screw over with my procrastination. I do it to myself ALL the time. So let's collectively wave byebye to grad school for me J Put a lot of feeling into it, why don't you? Trust me, it'll help. And now, a brief interlude of comic relief and the oh so popular Harry/Severus banter that you seem to enjoy.
The young setter padded quietly through the forest, eyes fastened on the black robes twenty paces ahead. "Finally," the man in black muttered, stopping and hunching over to harvest small violet berries from a sprawling vine wrapped loosely about the tree in front of him. The setter crouched down close to the ground, easing his way silently towards the man until finally…
"BARK!"
Severus Snape twirled around, wand drawn and face blank, though an astute observer might have seen the pulse rapidly pounding against the sweat-dampened skin of his neck. "Stupid animal," he nearly growled, lowering his wand but not holstering it. "Don't you know that there are plenty of things in this forest that would consider you nothing more than a less than filling hors d'oeuvre?"
The dog merely cocked his head, wagging his tail slowly to show that he was not dangerous but taking a slight step back to show he was not stupid either. Snape finally put away his wand. The setter, feet still planted firmly on the ground, then leaned forward as far as he could, nose pointing at Snape's curled fist. Sighing, the Potions master transferred the berries into the pocket of the vest he was wearing beneath his robes and extended his empty hand cautiously, palm up, grimacing as he was greeted with all the mucus the mutt could muster.
"Charming," he muttered, whispering a cleansing spell before returning his attention to his work, trying to ignore the dog which was practically prancing for attention at his feet. "Go away before I neuter you," Snape snapped. The dog continued sniffing at the hems of the man's robes and, to Snape's utter horror, slowly lifted one of his hind legs. Snape leaped back with a strangled yelp, foot cocked back as if he were ready and more than willing to kick the offending creature when…
"Potter?!"
Harry materialized before him, laughing so hard that he didn't bother to resume the proper position of a biped. "You should have seen your face!" he crowed, fighting for breath through his merry sobs. "Priceless!"
Severus just scowled. Noticing the less-than-amused look on the older man's face, Harry calmed himself, offering a not-so-apologetic smile. "Remus had suggested that I, um…seduce your leg, but Wynn couldn't stomach it," he grinned.
"I might have known those hooligans were involved," Snape muttered. "Surprised they aren't hanging from the trees to witness this."
"They've left Hogwarts on Dumbledore's business," Harry shrugged.
"Does that man realize it's Christmas Eve?" Severus asked.
"You're one to talk," Harry mock-scolded. "You're out here in the middle of the night, picking berries. You know that Santa will pass you over if you aren't in bed, don't you?"
"Who?" Severus asked.
"Never mind," Harry sighed. "They'll be back in the morning."
"I trust that your owl orders came in?" Severus inquired, concluding his business with the Brandyskein vine and following Harry back to the perimeter of the Forbidden Forest.
"Yes," Harry answered. "Would you like to join me for a drink?"
"Is that a not-so-subtle way of asking me if you can indulge in some of my vintage whiskey?" Severus smirked.
"Hey, you're welcome to come to my room. Gryffindor colors, bottle of cheap vodka, couple of bags of crisps-"
"That's enough," Severus shuddered. "Consider my tastes duly offended. The dungeons it will be."
"No, let's go to the kitchens for something warm first," Harry replied, noticing that what once was numbness in his toes was no evolving into a slow and painful burn.
"Are you missing Christmas at home?" Severus asked, allowing their walk to be led in the direction of the kitchen.
"Maybe a little," Harry admitted. "Christmas at the university, that is. I don't miss anything about the Dursleys. But in the dorms, we used to have secret Santa, and the girls that stayed over hols would always try to cook a turkey and fail miserably, forcing us into whatever restaurant was open. And the lads would have drinking contests with spiked egg nog." Harry laughed at the phantom nausea. "You can imagine how that turned out."
Severus nodded in all the right places, even though he had no concept of this elusive "Secret Santa" of which Harry spoke. But he could sympathize with the young man. Severus had often missed the Christmases of his childhood, several generations of his family squeezed in front of the hearth, cheeks and hands burning from the fire while the rest of them slowly froze. The family room was all aglow from multicolored illuminated crystals enchanted to fly in lazy circles overhead. The smell of his Great Aunt's bread and butter pudding filled the air, and there were never any fights on Christmas day. Ever.
"Severus?" Harry asked, concerned at the far-off look in his mentor's eyes.
"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" Severus asked, shaking his head free from those pesky lingering sentimentalities.
"We're getting a game together," Harry grinned. "Wynn and Remus are joining, as well as some of the seventh-years that are still around. Crane, Blake, Allen. How many players do we need to do a decent job of it?"
"You're fishing for something," Severus sighed. "I know bloody well that you've memorized that damned book."
"Fine, you'll say no anyway," Harry sighed, not bothering to whine or pull his wounded lamb face. Severus was immune to it. Or rather, it only bolstered a sense of malicious pride.
"Most assuredly. Imagine, me, playing Quidditch."
"I said forget it," Harry snapped. "Look, will you at least come outside and watch? You can feel free to laugh and everything, but I don't like the idea of you sitting alone, inside, on Christmas."
"Alone? Why would I be alone? Minnie and I are-"
"I didn't realize," Harry interrupted, blushing furiously at the idea of the Transfiguration professor, doing…
"Calm yourself Potter and consider yourself paid back in turn," Severus grinned.
"Oh ha ha," Harry smirked, before letting slip a genuine laugh. "Honestly, that was just disturbing. Thank you for not going with Trelawney though. So will you come out?"
"Why so concerned?" Severus asked, standing to give Harry the cue that it was high time to get inebriated.
"Because you're my friend," Harry answered, waving goodbye to the house elves, hoping that they would enjoy the small trinkets he had bought them for the holiday.
"Well, I may stop by, if only to see certain people humiliate themselves in front of the students," Severus answered. By then, the pair had reached his quarters. "Your training seems to be coming along very well," he observed. "Can you control yourself in anything larger than a dog?"
"Yes, but I didn't think you'd find it at all amusing if I had appeared as a dragon," Harry smiled.
"I might have. I'm out of dragon's blood," Severus answered, his brows knitted comically tight.
"Well, the answer is yes just the same. I actually did manage a dragon this morning, so the magical creatures are coming along well. When do you think Dumbledore will consider it?"
"Using you as a weapon you mean?" Severus asked, handing Harry a glass of Scotch that he had been meaning to show him.
"Yes…damn! Oh, that burns!" Harry wheezed, having downed his shot without noticing the switch from the normally smooth whiskey that he had come to tolerate. "Oooh, keep it coming," he smiled with watery eyes.
"It's a miracle you aren't a complete drunk," Severus sighed, filling the young man's glass nonetheless.
"Well, that's the joy of the sobering charm," Harry answered. "Don't worry, I'm to filled with self-love to send my liver to hell. Now seriously, have you spoken to Dumbledore about any possible plans?"
"He won't hear of it until your apprenticeship is over," Severus sighed.
"But that's months away!" Harry yelled.
"And let's hope he finds no reason to change his mind," Severus murmured. "But I'm afraid that you'll be called into action shortly after the New Year. There are some…complications that you are unaware of, and I'm under strict orders not to mention anything until after the holiday."
"Well now you've mentioned it, so you may as well come out with it," Harry urged.
"No, it won't do you any good. Enjoy your Christmas and know that we definitely won't make a move until mid-January, at the earliest."
"Nice, real nice," Harry complained, but he dropped the matter soon enough, as the clock in Severus's sitting room struck twelve. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Harry."
Soon after, Harry was back in his bed, trying to dream of sugar plums but failing miserably.