SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1~~**Okay, guys. This has been appropriately entitled A Very Merry Interlude. It doesn't fit in with this story's formula at all, it's 100% warm you on the inside fluff. But hell, Happy Christmas, right? And happy it is. I hope you like it. I appreciate the reviews a lot, kids. You're amazing. Oh yeah, and listen to Bright Eyes. Yes, listen to a lot of Bright Eyes. I listened to Bright Eyes while writing every single chapter of this story. Well...except for this one...this one isn't sad. Haha. HAPPY HOLIDAYS!**~~

Chapter Seven

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(A Very Merry Talk)

Of all holidays, Christmas was my most hated and let me tell you, the holiday season came way too fast for my comfort that year. Harry's spirits seemed to be soaring. He would come in from supper singing childish carols, causing me to bite my tongue and grind my teeth.

"You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout..." he shook his finger in the direction of the sofa, where I was lazily sprawled, book in hand. "...I'm telling you why. Santa Clause is coming to town."

If I didn't live to protect the child, I swear my fingers would be puncturing his pretty little neck right about now. I hated Christmas with the passion of a thousand burning phoenixes.

"Did you lose your virginity?" I growled.

He jumped, startled and embarrassed by the question. "No!" he squeaked, fidgeting. "Why would you think that?"

"You're too happy." I narrowed my eyes. "I don't think I like it."

He gaped at me. "You don't want me to be happy, Professor?"

I bit my lip, realizing how that sounded. Of course I wanted Harry to be happy...I just didn't want him to be happy if it meant that his innocence had been sacrificed.

"Let me rephrase that," I tried again. "You're too happy. I don't think I trust it."

He looked at me searchingly. "Well, no...I didn't lose my virginity. So what if I had?" That's when I became very interested in my book. "Professor...?"

"I just think you're too young, that's all," I grumbled, hoping he'd drop the subject.

"Too young...to have sex?" he sounded amused. I nodded slowly. "I'm sixteen! Most kids my age popped the flower a year ago!"

I sat up abruptly and glared at him. "Sit down. We're going to have a talk."

"I already know about sex!" he protested. "And I'm not having it!" His fight was feeble and as my glare hardened, he sat beside me in an air of disdain.

"You know about diseases then, right?" I asked him. He nodded, blushing. I like the fact that I can so easily embarrass him by talking about sex. It's fascinating. "Good. So you know the reasons to stay abstinent?"

His jaw dropped. "Abstinent? I'm not staying abstinent! Did you stay abstinent?"

"Don't be foolish," I sneered. "Of course I didn't. I lost my virginity at fifteen."

"Then why are you on my arse about it?"

Hmm...why indeed? In my eyes, Harry was younger than sixteen. I tucked him in at night. I even carried him to bed sometimes. I allowed him to nestle next to me after a bad nightmare. No, my Harry was not sixteen. My Harry was not old enough to lose his virginity.

"Because you're too young, that's why."

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, let out an exaggerated sigh. "Whatever."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"What? NO! Why are you suddenly interested in this?"

"Boyfriend?" I persisted.

"NO!"

"Why are you so happy?"

"I like the hols that's all," he said hastily. "I'm in good spirits because people are so happy and exchange gifts and it's merry and happy and all that. It doesn't mean that there's somebody screwing me out of my bloody mind."

I cringed at the thought.

"Good. Never sing that song again."

"What song?" he asked, confused.

"That vomit-worthy tune about Santa Clause you were crooning when you walked in," I replied venomously.

"Santa Clause is coming to town?"

"Yes, that one."                                                                                               

"But he is coming to town!" my young charge insisted.

I stared at him wearily. "Harry, you do know that the annual Weasley sweater does indeed come from the Weasleys, right?" He pouted. My heart melted. Fuck. What was happening to me? "Well, maybe Mrs. Weasley sends it with a house elf...er, named Santa?" I can't believe I just tried to justify Santa Clause.

"I know that Santa Clause isn't a real entity," Harry said softly. "I just think it's nice. Like...all of this Christmas cheer and good will towards all men bullshit-"

"Language," I interjected.

"Erm...stuff comes from a big jolly fat guy with a Dumbledore-wannabe beard who gives little kids presents and stuff. He's like this superego character that does nice things for other people and doesn't reap any benefits but the cozy feeling you get after you do a good deed.. Sometimes I wish I could meet him.."

"You want to meet Santa Clause..." I said slowly.

"NO! I mean...I wish I could meet someone like him?" He suddenly became very interested in my book. "What're you reading? Is it good? Can I borrow it when you're through?"

"You want to meet Santa Clause," I repeated.

He scowled at me. "Why did me singing Santa Clause is Coming to Town make you think I had sex?"

I smirked. "I'm not sure. It's not a very erotic song, is it?"

Harry shook his head vigorously. "No, it really isn't." His eyes brightened suddenly as he laid his head on my lap and peered up with mischievous eyes. "So, what'd you get me for Christmas? Cause I know you got me something."

Of course I had. No matter how much I hated Christmas, I loved Harry.

"Spoiled," I clucked my tongue on the roof of my mouth. "Spoiled children get lumps of coal."

"That's naughty children," he countered. "Even if I were spoiled, I'm not all that naughty. So what did you get me?"

"You think I'd tell you?" I asked, reaching over to tickle his side, causing him to giggle and writhe as if being tortured.

"I think you should tell me, because I'm important," he smiled angelically.

"Important? Arrogant maybe..."

"I am important," he insisted. "So tell me."

I looked at him incredulously. Did the boy never give up? I was getting sick of this conversation. Sick of his excitement about presents and good will.

"Why don't you tell me what you got me," I replied cooly.

"Because it's a surprise!" he grinned.

I rolled my eyes. "Have you done your Transfiguration essay?" I asked. He nodded. "To the best of your ability?" He nodded again, this time a little more slowly. "Good. Go to bed."

"It's eight o'clock!" he sounded horrified.

"Yes, it is."

"Yeah, well it's too early."

"I'll tell you when it's too early. Go to bed."

He stared at me, dumbfounded. Then, as if I were wearing my thoughts on my sleeve, he said, "I'm sixteen, not six."

"Don't argue with me."

"In due time, I WILL go to sleep," he said. "I'm old enough to know when to go to bed."

I was beginning to feel more than a little frustrated. I fixed him with my sternest glare. You know, the one that the students say could turn people to stone and other such ridiculous things. "Go to bed before I put you to bed." Apparently I hadn't lost my touch, because he stomped off.

He returned a moment later in his pajamas. "Are you mad at me?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Of course not."

"Then why are you being so fucking mean?" he demanded.

I really needed to break him of that goddamned swearing habit. "I won't tolerate your foul language anymore, Harry."

"You're ignoring my question!" he pointed out.

What was I supposed to tell him? Christmas, Harry, I hate Christmas. I hate talking about Santa Clause and presents and cheer. The only decent thing about Christmas is the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, which turns foul because the bloody wanker starts to like the fucking holiday.

"I apologize. It wasn't my intention to be mean. You just didn't get much sleep last night and I wanted you to get more tonight."

"But I don't want to," he grumbled.

"Well, you have to. So stop acting like a six-year-old and go to bed." When he didn't move, I growled, "Harry James Potter..."

"Aren't you going to tuck me in?" the boy looked upset.

Oh Merlin, what was happening to my life...

I got up, lead him to his bedroom, and tucked him in. I moved to leave, but he softly stopped me with, "You usually kiss my forehead before leaving."

I turned around. "What's making you so needy?"

"You're not following our usual mushy routine. I think you're mad at me." His words were accusing, but his tone was hurt.

"I'm not mad at you, Harry." I leaned down to tenderly kiss his forehead. "I promise."

"Then why are you mad?"

"I'm not mad. I'm just in a bad mood."

"Why?"

"I don't feel like talking about it, okay?"

"You make me talk about stuff I don't feel like talking about."

"I make you talk about important things. This isn't important." I moved the hair from his eyes. "No more questions. Try to get some sleep." I extinguished the light. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(A Very Merry Act of Favoritism)

It was the last day of classes. Sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors. Neville Longbottom's potion had yet to explode, but there was no doubt in my mind that it would come eventually. Draco Malfoy kept shooting malicious glances in the direction of Hermione Granger. There was an incessant humming coming from Lavender Brown that sounded most excruciatingly like 'Jingle Bells'.

I had to do quiet breathing exercises to keep myself from killing them all.

Harry, paired with Draco, was looking quite angry. I should probably stop pairing them together, as I know how Draco tends to grate Harry's nerves.

Big, heavy glass. I let out an uncharacteristic yelp of surprise and managed to dodge the offending object before it hit me in the head. It shattered when it collided with the wall. 

"What in the bloody-" I bit my lip. Can't swear in front of the students. "Would anyone care to explain?"

They stared at me blankly. A few blinked.

I looked dumbly at the wreckage, which appeared to just be a lot of glass. Then it hit me...well, not really, because then I would really murder the lot of them.

"So which one of you Seers had the extraordinarily clever idea of bringing your crystal ball to Potions class?" There was an incredible amount of scathe in my voice. I was quite proud.

"Crystal ball?" Parvati Patil squeaked, rummaging through her things. "That was my crystal ball!"

"So, Miss. Patil..." I sneered. "What was your crystal ball doing flying at my head?"

I had to admire Patil, she wasn't frightened of me in the least. She threw up her hands and cried, "I don't know, Professor Snape. I wouldn't throw my crystal ball anywhere, much less at your head. I liked my crystal ball!"

"20 points from Gryffindor for bringing a weapon to class, Miss. Patil." I turned my attention to the rest of the room. "So...who did throw Miss. Patil's crystal ball at my head?" They all looked at eachother nervously. Weasley raised his hand. "Mr. Weasley?"

"I think it was Malfoy," he said, jerking his thumb back at the blonde boy.

"Shut up, Weasel!" Draco growled.

Inwardly, I was rather pleased that Weasley felt comfortable enough with me to try to turn me against Draco in class. Outwardly, I glared daggers at him.

"5 points from Gryffindor for wrongfully defaming a classmate, Weasley." Harry raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Malfoy was aiming for Hermione."

Granger whirled around to glare at the boy. "Nice aim, Ferret."

"You knew he was targeting Miss. Granger and you didn't try to stop him?" I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my voice. Harry looked at his desk guiltily. "I see. 10 points from Gryffindor for not helping your friend. Now everyone continue with your work."

Granger shot me a look that could rival Minerva McGonagall's. I raised an eyebrow in return. She continued to glare, indicating her head towards Malfoy. I raised both eyebrows. Finally she sighed and asked, "Well, aren't you going to punish him? He was trying to kill me, you know."

"I'll be the one who decides who tried to kill who, Miss. Granger," I replied cooly.

"He aimed a crystal ball at my head, Professor Snape!" she sounded thoroughly exasperated. "Now this is ridiculous. It even almost hit you!"

"So it did. It added excitement to the class."

"Excitement?" Granger demanded.

"Yes. Weren't you excited?"

"I most certainly was not."

"10 points from Gryffindor for not being excited. Return to your work, Miss. Granger, before I make it 20." Grumbling, she obeyed and the class worked diligently until the period was through.

Afterwards, the golden Gryffindor trio stayed behind to have an angry word.

"He was trying to kill Hermione!" Harry snarled. "If I hadn't pushed that ball away from her, she would've had a concussion at the very least!"

"10 points for not being excited?" Granger asked, bewildered. "You could have at least come up with something a little more justifiable, Professor!"

"5 points for wrongfully defaming?" Weasley huffed. "I was right!"

I rolled my eyes, lead the three to my office, and put up a silencing charm. "You know I can't do things in your favor."

"It was an expellable offense," Granger argued. "He tried to bring potentially lethal harm to a student without any provocation." As I am the compassionate person that I have become, I realized that she was beginning to fight back the urge to cry. "It's not my bloody fault I exist!" I offered her a chair. She obliged.

"Mione, we'll hex that little bastard 10 ways till Sunday for you," Weasley offered, patting her shoulder. "It'll be alright. Don't cry."

But cry Granger did, so out came the tissues. Harry glared at me, inclining his head towards his friend,  mouthing, "Make it better." I groaned inwardly, not wanting to be nicer than I had to to a child that wasn't Harry.

"Hermione," I said softly. She looked up, eyes glistening, startled that I had used her given name. "50 points to Gryffindor for being victimized in an inexcusable way." A ghost of a smile fluttered over her face. To the surprise of us all, I took a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. "Better?" She nodded and threw her arms around me.

"Oh, Professor Snape, I always knew that you were really nice underneath that cold exterior!" she cried happily.

I groaned. "Just don't tell anyone. My reputation is at stake." I glared at Harry and Weasley. "If I hear anything about a fight with a Malfoy, there will be a cauldron cleaning for a Weasley and a Harry."

Harry groaned. "That's the most embarrassing sentence you've ever structured."

"At least I didn't try to give you the talk again," I offered. Weasley doubled over in laughter as Harry blushed furiously.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't bring that up again..." he mumbled, looking sideways at his friend. "Look, Ron, it wasn't even really the talk, you know? I came in singing-"

"You were SINGING?" Weasley howled.

"Um, erm..." Harry fumbled for words. "Okay, look, he demanded to know if I had lost my virginity. So I was like no and then he tried to talk to me about diseases! It wasn't really the talk, you know. I know about sex and stuff."

"I still think you should practice abstinence," I smirked. Weasley fell to the floor, clutching his gut.

"Professor," Harry hissed. "Look, Ron, it's REALLY not that funny, is it?"

Weasley continued to laugh, tears of mirth streaming down his face.

"Ron!"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(A Very Merry 'First' Fight)

Harry was quite obviously still angry with me in the days that followed. He gave me the cold shoulder, avoided me at all costs, answered my questions icily in abrupt statements. He didn't allow me to tuck him in, much less give him the nightly kiss on the forehead. So much for our "mushy routine".

Note to self: don't embarrass Harry in front of friends. It may be satisfying at the time, but the consequences are quite painful.

It was the day before Christmas Eve and his cold treatment was not improving. After dinner, he marched into the chambers, stomped by me and into his room, and slammed his door with an air of finality.

Truth be told, I deserved it. I hadn't stopped with just mentioning 'abstinence' and 'the talk'. I might of slipped in something about dear old Saint Nick and Harry's secret desire to make his acquaintance. Weasley had found that tidbit of information particularly hilarious. I can only presume that the minor ribbing Harry received at that moment was only the beginning of days of ridicule.

I missed my Harry and how he used to light up when I was around. I even missed his excited talks about Christmas spirit and all of that insipid rubbish. When I tried to console him after his nightmares, he grumbled that he was fine and pushed me away.

Pushed me away...

Bullocks!

Deciding I could no longer tolerate my charge's anger, I got up and softly knocked on his door. He didn't answer, as expected. I tried the doorknob, only to find it locked. I sighed.

"Harry, open the door," I ordered.

"Fuck off!"

I mumbled my own swears beneath my breath. "Alohomara!"

He had piled himself underneath all of his covers so that all I could see was a bulge in the bed. How childish.

"Can't we talk this out?" I tried.

"Fuck off," he repeated.  I settled beside him on the bed, sprawled my legs out and leaned against the headboard. "Go away."

"Why?" I asked. He didn't respond, so I tried again, "Why are you so mad at me, Harry?"

The bundle started to shake, so naturally I unbundled it, pulled my Harry into my arms. This time he didn't push away.

"Y-you..."

"I'm sorry I embarrassed you in front of your friends, Harry." The words felt foreign to my tongue. "It was wrong of me, but you know I was only playing."

That only applies to Harry. Severus Snape does not play.

"That's not it!" he pushed me against the headboard and crawled away. "That's not it at all. You told them about stuff that was only supposed to be between you and me. It was a betrayal of confidences!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Harry...I hardly think that anything I tell Weasley about Santa Clause can be considered a betrayal of confidences." I tried not to laugh at the absurdity of the statement. He looked at me distrustfully as I extended my arms. "Come on, poppet. It's behind us."

He tumbled gracelessly off of the bed and gave me the meanest look I think he could muster.

"Fuck you," he said coldly before turning and walking out of the room.

I sat in a state of paralysis for a moment, digesting what had just happened. I had been compassionate and apologetic, had I not? I had! I had admitted fault! A most difficult thing to do. And what did he do?  He threw it back in my bloody face!

"HARRY!"

I launched myself out of the room to find him gone. I was enraged. Like a bull.

I ran all around the dungeons, up to the headmasters office, and finally to Gryffindor Tower. He was there, with Weasley and Granger, playing a game of Exploding Snap. Granger's mangy cat clawed at my pantleg.

"Ron and Hermione want me to stay here tonight," Harry said, not looking up from his game. "It's hols after all."

I clenched and unclenched my fists, telling myself to breathe. Since when was my Harry infuriating? My Harry was nice and innocent and fun to talk to and loving and great and amazing and fascinating and every other word synonymous with good.

"Well, you're not staying here tonight," I told him firmly. "You're coming back with me right now."

"I'm in the middle of a game," he replied nonchalantly. "I think I want to stay here tonight, so I think I will."

I folded my arms, "Is that right?"

He chanced a glance at me. "That's right." And went back to his game.

"Harry, maybe you should go-" Granger began.

"No," he cut her off. "He can't make me."

I looked to Weasley, who kept looking my way nervously. He wasn't concentrating very much on the game, so I didn't feel too horrible about what I did next Actually, I was rather remorseless.

I pulled him out of his chair and threw him over my shoulder.

"I was in the middle of a game!" he repeated angrily. I was also quite sure that his face was flushed, as it tended to do when he was embarrassed.

"You can finish it tomorrow. Weasley's heart wasn't in it anyway. Now, say goodnight." When no sound came from Harry, I looked to other two Gryffindors. "Goodnight, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley." I stepped out of the common room, my charge still over my shoulder, smiling slightly at their mixed expressions.

I ran into Albus on my way back to the dungeons. He looked amused again.

"Severus, why ever are you carrying Harry in that peculiar fashion?" he inquired, mouth twitching.

"Because he's a bloody bastard," Harry grumbled. I smirked and smacked his bum with my free hand. "HEY!"

"So I can do that when he calls me names," I answered smartly. "We have things to discuss. I'll see you tomorrow, Albus."

When we finally reached the chambers, I finally let him down. He exploded like one of Neville Longbottom's potions. I had embarrassed him! I had no right to treat him like a child! I had, again, betrayed his confidence! I was deceptive! I was mean! I was horrible! He hated me!

Hated me...

"If you're quite done, you can go to your room." My voice was ice, my face emotionless. However, his words resounded in my ears long after the slam of his door reverberated throughout the dungeons. I mulled over the reasons for his actions. Maybe Harry had a chemical imbalance? His mood swings were massive, much like those of a pre-menstrual Millicent Bulstrode. 

He was acting like he was twelve, but when he was twelve, he wasn't like this. Was he? I didn't know him when he was twelve, aside from my snide remarks about his parents and condescending words during Potions class. No...the boy had not acted like a child then. He had an old soul.

But ever since I found him that faithful day in the bathroom, he had been an overdramatizing suicide case on legs. He had reached out for me with a dry smile and teary eyes, pleading for my care. It was only two months ago, when I was still in full cold effect...and I had snatched him from the floor immediately and taken him "home".

It occurred to me then, that I was the one who was needy. Not Harry. Me. Two months ago, I had despised Harry Potter. One  month and a three and a half weeks ago, I had cradled Harry Potter on my lap and laid him down to sleep. And now, I referred to him mentally as my Harry. Not my student, Harry. My Harry. My child, Harry.

James Potter is either howling in his grave with laughter, or crying in despair.

For the way he was acting now, he was still my Harry. He was my Harry acting as I saw him, a child. Perhaps he was secretly enjoying this argument, my scoldings, my "deception" as he so claimed. Perhaps, he was looking for a reason to be mad, despite my attempt to reconcile.

"Why haven't you come in yet?"

The voice was sad and I turned around to see my Harry leaning against the open door frame, his mouth threatening a pout.

"I didn't think you wanted me to," I replied, patting the space beside me on the sofa. He obliged.

"I don't hate you, you know..."he trailed off.

"I know," I agreed.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Not anymore."

"You were, though?"

I sighed and opened my arms. He leaned into my embrace, humming contentedly as I rubbed his back. "Harry, in the time that we've spent together, this is the most infuriating you've ever been. I apologised for my earlier actions, so why did you choose to continue it?"

"Well, I still kind of thought you were being a git. And you just expected me to forgive you, as if offering me a hug and calling me poppet would make everything better." He paused. "It's not like it was a big deal, I guess. I overreacted. But part of me wanted to be mad at you."

Aha. Severus Snape: child psychologist extraordinaire. .

"Why?"

"To see what you would do."

Testing the boundaries. Yes, yes...fascinating. I allowed him a small smile, patted his head and pushed him up. "Okay, well...does this conclude the "Harry hates Professor Snape" segment of Christmas holidays?" He nodded.

"Can I stay in Gryffindor Tower?" I shook my head. His jaw dropped. "But the fight is over." He put emphasis on the word 'over', as if I hadn't been the one to officially conclude our feud

I smiled wearily. "Consider it your punishment."

"Punishment? For what?"

"Pissing me off."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(A Very Merry Slumber Party)

Christmas Eve came upon me in a most aggravating way. First, my bed started to bounce. Second, something poked me in the ribs. Third, Harry screamed at the top of his lungs, "It's CHRISTMAS EVE!"

"FUCKING HELL, POTTER!" I shouted, slamming a pillow over my ears to block him out.

"FUCKING HELL, PROFESSOR!" he shouted back. I hit him with the pillow.

I wanted to throw him into a Muggle garbage can on the streets of London, suddenly beginning to realize why people so "inhumanely" abandoned their children. I stretched and yawned, smiling as Harry cringed at the multiple cracks and pops of my body.

"You're old," he deadpanned.

I glared. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Can't I just want to surprise you on Christmas Eve morning?" he batted his eyelashes. I threw another pillow at him.

"No," I snapped. "What did you bloody want, Potter?"

He grinned. "Well..." he trailed off. I think my glare was putting him off. He suddenly looked nervous and rather hurt. "Nevermind. You'll just say no."

"Ask me the question before I suspend you from the ceiling by your ankles and laugh as you swing," I growled.

That did the trick, though I'm rather sorry that it did.

"Can Ron and Hermione spend the night? Tomorrow's Christmas and we always open our presents together..."

Oh, Merlin. No. Not this. Anything but this.

"...and I know you said I couldn't sleep in Gryffindor Tower, but you never said anything about them sleeping here! We won't make too much noise, Professor. I promise..."

He was looking at me with huge eyes that put puppies to shame, rambling on in such pathetic pleas, maintaining a note of pre-expected disappointment.

"Ron even says you're less of a git now, so maybe you can get along better. That would be nice, wouldn't it? And Hermione thinks you're the greatest because you're always so mean but secretly you're REALLY nice. You really are nice, you know? I mean, you're one of the nicest-"

I scowled.

"-nicest meanest people I know! You're so nice at being mean, Professor. If you were any meaner, I'd think you were...well, mean.  And that's why you're so ace-"

"Harry."

"-because you're so mean. If you weren't so mean, I don't know what I would do. Where else could I find a mean guy to tuck me in at night? To kiss my forehead? And not only that, but you're a mean guy that makes potions-"

"Harry..."

"-and potions, Professor, despite my atrocious grade in your class, are ace. They can do incredible things, like put a stopper on death!"

"HARRY!"

He stopped speaking and looked to me expectantly. I sighed.

"Fine. Weasley and Granger can spend the night." He threw his arms around me, squealing his thanks. "BUT..." he detached himself and stared at me forlornly. "You all must be in bed by ten. I don't want any late night boisterous activity from giddy Gryffindors."

"How about twelve?" he asked eagerly, as if it were up for negotiation. I glared. "Eleven thirty?" he tried again.

"Ten," I said firmly. He pouted. "Harry, what happened to 'I'm sixteen not six!'?"

"Sixteen year olds don't tend to be sent off to bed at ten o'clock," he shot back. "You're so unfair."

Indeed.

"Good little boys are in bed early so Santa has time to make his rounds," I smirked.

He threw a pillow at me.

***

By eight o'clock, I thought Albus would have to make me live with Minerva. I wanted to kill myself.

Harry and Weasley were devising plots to sabotage Draco, while Granger put her know-it-all two cents in about how they shouldn't start things. Of course, they didn't even bother to hide these conversations from me. They sat in the center of the living room, a set of Wizard's Chess between them, while I was in my normal place: sprawled on the couch, book in hand. You'd assume they would conspire in Harry's room. Or at least talk in softer voices.

"Instigating his attacks makes you just as foul as he is," Granger chided.

"Pack it in, Hermione," Weasley snapped. "You should be on our side-"

"I am on your side, idiot," she interrupted. "I just think you're being daft."

"I am not."

"Yes, you are."

"Not."

"Are."

"If you two are going to bicker over such trivial things, could you not do it in my presence?" I hissed venomously. They cowered. Yay.

Harry scowled at me. "Be nice."

"I don't have to be nice. These are my chambers." I grinned as he grumbled in discontent. When I looked to Weasley and Granger, I discovered them gaping at me like fish. "What are you two on about?"

"You know how to smile?" Weasley asked, tactless as ever.

Harry snorted. "He's human, isn't he?"

"Wow, he really is." Weasley was still stunned. I raised my eyebrow.

"Don't let this display fool you, Weasley. Truly I'm really a Muggle cooking device with greasy hair."

Weasley's jaw dropped. "You possess a sense of humor?"

Granger smacked her forehead in exasperation. I was inclined to agree with her gesture.

About half an hour after Weasley discovered I was human, Harry suckered me into allowing the three of them to go knick food from the kitchens. Well, it wasn't so much that he suckered me…it was more like I was finding an escape from annoyance. It also gave me time to transfigure a meek-looking Christmas tree and tend to Harry's present. Albus knew about Harry's present. Albus was part of Harry's present. I smiled freely. Albus was the part of Harry's present that Harry would hate me for.

The part of Harry's present that wasn't Albus was quite a pain in the arse. In fact, I don't know what on earth possessed me to purchase such an evil thing.

"Come here, you little bastard," I cooed, picking up the black puppy from the bottom of my closet. I grunted in disdain when I stepped in something wet. "I should have gotten him a kitten instead." The insipid creature nipped at my finger. "But you'll give him fond memories of Black, so don't even worry about it." He yipped. "Yes…just do me a favor and don't shit all over the place during the night." I extracted a big red ribbon from one of my drawers. "I know this is foolish-looking, bastard dog, but it's festive and Harry likes festive." I know I know…I'm wondering why I'm having this conversation with a puppy, too. "Would you mind so much if I put it on you?" The puppy licked my face. It was brainless, therefore the perfect pet for my Harry. I gently tied the bow around the puppy's neck and charmed it to stay in place. "Are you ready to go to the headmaster?" He whimpered. I sneered. "Nice response."

I left a note for Harry in case he returned before me, hid the puppy in my robes, and stealthily made my way to the headmaster's office.

"Severus, you look positively diabolical," Albus smiled. I nodded, handing him bastard dog. "So, you wish for me to be down in your rooms by four?"

I grinned. "Yes, Albus. Four. You have the polyjuice at ready, I presume?"  He nodded. "Excellent. He won't know what to think."

After a few more minutes of small talk, I bid Albus farewell and made my way back down to my chambers. The Golden Gryffindor Trio had returned and were still happily munching on their snacks from the kitchens.

"It's ten o'clock," I noted, looking pointedly at Harry. He choked on whatever he was eating.

"So?" he tried to recover.

"So…bed."

"NO."

"Let's remember our agreement, Harry." I had, of course, expected protest.

"At ten o'clock?" Weasley asked.

"Yes, Weasley. Ten o'clock." I rounded on Harry. "You expected me to just forget about it, didn't you?"

"Well-"

"Well, nothing. Bed. All of you. Now get out of my sight." They scampered into his room.

I entered a few minutes later to find Harry and Weasley sharing his bed, while Granger was, as hoped, on the extra mattress I had managed to conjure.

"What do you want now?" Harry groused. I handed him a bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion.

"I don't want you to have nightmares. It's Christmas." I heard something that sounded like an "aww" escape from Granger's mouth, but when I snapped my head around to look at her she was pretending to be asleep. I watched Harry drink his potion, smiling at the frown still etched on his face. "Now, Harry, the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner Santa will come." He threw his pillow at me as Weasley and Granger giggled.

"I'm becoming mad at you very quickly," my Harry gritted. Much to his dismay, I kissed his forehead.

"I know, poppet. Sweet dreams." As I left the room, I heard Weasley demand, "did he just call you poppet?" and Granger saying something along the lines of "how sweet."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(A Very Merry Christmas)

As planned, Albus entered my chambers at four o'clock with the puppy in hand.  I walked quickly back into Harry's room with a lit wand and shook the boy awake.

"Wha-?" 

"Shhh, Harry. There's someone in the living room."

"Death Eater?" Harry shot out of bed immediately, snatching his wand from underneath his pillow. Granger and Weasley woke up in the raucous.

"What's going on?" Weasley asked tiredly.

"There's a Death Eater in the living room," Harry told him.

"A Death Eater in the living room?" Granger gasped, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Hush, children. We do not know that," I said soothingly. "Come and stay behind me. We'll see."

So they gathered their wands, and formed a line behind me. We crept out into the living room. Albus was still quietly and harmlessly bustling about.

"Lumos," Harry whispered, training his light on the "intruder".  He stopped dead in his tracks. Much to my surprise, he hid behind me.

"Is that…?" Weasley trailed off.

"It can't be." Granger tried to sound matter-of-fact, but failed miserably.

"Santa Clause?" Harry asked.

"Ho ho ho," Albus rumbled heartily. "You've caught me in the act."

I bit back my laughter. Maybe this was a little cruel…after all they were sixteen.

"But we didn't leave cookies!" Granger sounded like she was on the verge of a panic attack.

"Or milk!" Weasley yelped.

Harry continued to hide behind me.

"Why, little Harry…why are you frightened?" Albus boomed. I bit my tongue so hard that it could have bled.

"I was always afraid of the Santas in shopping malls," he admitted quietly enough so only I could hear.

"You're afraid of Santa?" I asked, bewildered. Harry could face and outwit the Dark Lord multiple times and he was afraid of Santa Clause?

"His voice is really big," Harry said quietly. "Like Uncle Vernon's."

Ah. Well, that put a damper on my fun. I turned and enveloped my Harry in my arms. "But this Santa has a present for you, love. Don't you want it?" Harry seemed to consider it for a moment, before nodding. Albus handed him the red ribbon-ridden, black bastard puppy.

"A puppy!" Harry grinned broadly, beaming at Albus.

"Ho ho ho! I must be off," the headmaster declared, before leaving. I rolled my eyes. Albus didn't make a very convincing Santa Clause.

A few hours later, I let them in on Santa Clause's real identity.

"But you'd need a piece of Santa Clause for the polyjuice!" Granger argued. "How did you do it?"

I smirked. "The magic of Christmas."

Harry was too delighted with his puppy to be too angry with me about the Santa Clause stunt. Much to my delight, he had named his new pet Bastard.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Harry dashed off to his room and returned with a wrapped package. He handed it to me. "Merry Christmas, Professor."

I raised an eyebrow and tore away the paper to find a copy of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.

Smiling, I reached out my arms to embrace my Harry.

And the Gryffindor trio would live on to say that The Potions Master's small heart grew three sizes that day.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Okay, kids. Don't even consider this part of the story. It's just a Happy Christmas interlude I deemed necessary in the act of cheer (which I don't really have, but oh well.) I hope you enjoyed it and had a good holiday! 3333

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