Author's Note:
Written for the Christmas Challenge for The Houses Competition 2021
Team: Hufflepuff
Class: Astronomy
Word Count (up to 5K): 3,519
Festive Prompts Used:
Theme: Beating the odds.
Prompt: 15. [Word] Magical
Request: Charlie9646 — Request Severus Snape actually having a happy Christmas (prefer post war)
A Magical Merry Little Christmas
Severus Snape was used to being in the wrong place at the right time, or the right place at the wrong time. It happened with such regularity that he would darkly joke that he was cursed. He had been beaten, scarred, healed improperly, experimented on, dragged into things he'd never wanted to be part of, and walked willingly into disasters he would only understand later. He'd made disastrous decisions, the worst choices, then lain with the terrible consequences for years upon years because he didn't know how to quit a punishment he felt was justly deserved.
If it was his duty to suffer, then so be it.
It hadn't taken long for Severus to be certain of the fact that he was born to receive every bit of abuse that life could fling at him. Of course, that didn't mean he had to be happy about it, only that he'd accepted his lot long before most others had connected the dots to reveal the full miserable picture.
When he'd learned that he was magical, everything had changed, even if it had only been for a moment. His magic had been a tiny bubble of calm in his cold and cruel upbringing. It had sheltered him, fed him, and protected that last little shard of hope in his scruffy soul. Even through the bad times, Hogwarts had fed it and kept it burning brightly under all the dark layers of his life.
It was something that he'd never allowed anyone other than a select few to see.
"You're going to end up dead in the gutter," his father had said more than once, and so it was with more than a little glee that he proved his father wrong.
As he lay dying in the Shrieking Shack, he had enough time to muse to himself that at least there was some sort of roof over his head. He'd proved his father wrong, but only just so.
There was only one problem (well other than the horrifying pain and paralysis), and the problem was this:
He'd failed to die.
Severus first came back to himself feeling as though he were surfacing from the bottom of a well filled with cotton. The smell of healing salve burned his nose, but he could not move or see anything. The smells, though, were vibrant as ever. There! Oh yes, that was the scent of Pepper-Up Potion. And over there! The scent of lavender and vanilla. Parchment and ink; a hint of cinnamon. Even the old smell of urine and the hint of Scourgify and bleach gave him tiny data points that he latched onto as he lay silent and still. His mind, unused to idleness, slowly began to catalog all of the scents the same methodical way that any Potions master might catalog his stores.
Next came the sensation of his body being attended to in ways that would have embarrassed him in the past. The hands that cared for him were gentle and warm. And the scent he had associated with parchment and ink with just a hint of cinnamon. It should have been a disgusting combination, but he found it somehow calming. By the time he got his eyes open for the first time, he'd already figured out the general layout of his room, wherever he might be.
Light and fresh air. Gauzy cotton curtains. The telltale scent of forest and freshly-cut grasses wafting through the open window.
Severus' eyes took a long time to adjust after so long in the darkness behind his eyelids, and there she was, a halo of light making her features fuzzy. She was taller and her face fuller than he remembered. Her bushy curls were tied back in a kerchief and she wore a medi-witch's apron with its thousands of pockets, but he would know her anywhere.
"Ma-gi-cal," he rasped, more breath than voice.
He couldn't quite understand her reply. It still felt like his ears were filled with cotton balls, but he could feel the vibration of her voice. He decided he loved it. She placed her soft fingers on his cheek and with momentous effort, he was able to gently turn his head into her touch. She stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes again, focusing on the sensation. Things were changing. He could feel the pain very far away and knew that he had a long road ahead, but the tiny spark of hope that had nearly extinguished flared anew.
He would learn so much in the coming year. The little tree-house cottage in the woods was beautiful, but it had a more practical purpose. Severus would learn bits and pieces as he grew stronger and began his convalescence. It was thanks to the so-called Golden Trio that he'd survived at all, but by the time he learned this bit of information he could find no animosity for any of them for saving to the life he'd already made peace with losing.
The Ministry had devolved into chaos after the fall of Voldemort. Rather than grow more tolerant, it had actually led to a more draconian and traditionalist government with Dolores Umbridge's older brother taking on the helm of Minister of Magic. Anyone who had participated in the Final Battle of Hogwarts had been marked a criminal, regardless of which side they were on. Hermione Granger had been the one who had stabilized Severus enough to save his life before she, Ron, Harry and the other ragged members of Dumbledore's Army, the Order, and Hogwarts staff were able to use a portkey that Dumbledore had left to Minerva McGonagall to leave Wizarding Britain behind. The little island they'd escaped to was hidden behind a formidable and ancient warding stone circle. Dumbledore had apparently created it long ago in case his worst fears were realized. There, everyone could live a relatively idyllic life, as there were plenty of magical plants, animals, and building material to fashion a village of sorts in which to live comfortably. Harry had taken the little cottage that Dumbledore had lived in, but had helped to raise the other buildings with the rest of them.
Hermione's tree-house cottage also doubled as the infirmary, which meant it was a bit larger than the others. She'd had her little beaded bag filled with books, and the library Harry had found in Dumbledore's cottage had supplemented her knowledge. It had been seven years, almost to the day. Severus had been unconscious all that time, but Hermione had patiently dressed his wounds until they finally healed, then kept his body clean and as healthy as possible with potions and salves.
Hermione wasn't nearly as strict as Madam Pomfrey, but she was quite the task master. Severus expected nothing less as she helped him build up his strength and redevelop his fine motor skills. When it came time to walk, she was there to keep him from falling on his face. He could see the streaks of gray in her hair from the stress of the war, but she never stopped smiling and encouraging him.
"So…what is next?" he asked one evening, his voice still gruff and barely beyond a whisper.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, turning her head to the side a little.
"Against the Ministry," he replied, exasperated, steeling himself for the answer. There would be another war. He'd be called upon to serve their cause, of course. Why else would they have kept him alive?
"We're not going to do anything." Hermione's eyes were sad, as though reminiscing that final, terrible battle. "We had our war. We lost more than we realized we would. We're done. We just want to live a good life. A quiet life. We've survived a thankless war and for what? More registrations, more draconian laws. The Wizarding World has spoken definitively about what they think about treating muggleborns like human beings, much less Muggles. Last we heard from the mainland, there's some sort of movement to control the Muggle world by using Imperius on Muggle leaders for their own supposed good."
Severus was simultaneously relieved and sickened. No purpose? How could he live a quiet life? What was keeping him from throwing himself off the first cliff he could find? "I…but…"
"Severus. Look at me." She took his hand, then, and gently squeezed it. "Let's go to the Christmas Market tomorrow. Lavender and Filius built a wheelchair for the infirmary. It hovers so it doesn't bump or tip on trails and pathways. I know you can walk a little, but if you use it, you can conserve your strength."
"Y…yes," he managed, trying to choke back tears at the gentle look on her face. A proud part of his heart felt great shame in having to be treated like an invalid, but on the other hand, another part of him never wanted to be truly well if it meant having to leave her company. They'd spent so much time together that sometimes he forgot that he hadn't always lived with her and spent his days by her side.
She gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear and he squeezed her hand back. On a whim, he pulled her hand gently, pressing his chapped lips against the back of it.
"Thank you, Hermione," he wheezed.
She went a bit pink before breaking out into a bashful smile. "Oh, Severus…"
"Tell me, Hermione. Are we friends?" he asked, dreading but needing to know the answer.
She shook her head. "It's been seven years, Severus. In some ways, you're my closest friend, the most constant person in my life, if you'll believe it. Everyone said I was crazy for hoping you'd pull through, and maybe I am…but if wanting you to have a chance to live a peaceful life makes me crazy, then I'd gladly call myself as such."
"I, too, consider you a dear…friend. I will go with you. Tomorrow." He wanted to say more, but something told him not to ruin the moment. He'd never been a patient man, but his injury had forced him to live at a much slower pace long enough that he found he didn't mind waiting.
She bid him goodnight and left the little room, which he'd since learned was built into the actual cottage and was not part of her infirmary wing. He loved the little birds she'd painted on the walls and the poster with potions ingredients by the window. She'd designed the room to look as little like a hospital room as possible, and it felt far more homey than any quarters he'd ever slept in. He could tell that she'd tried to decorate it to his tastes, even with the limitations of living on the island. Hermione had told him that they did go to mainland Europe when they could for supplies they simply couldn't make on the island, but they had to keep a low profile, which didn't give them many options and meant that visits were rare. Due to the nature of the Ministry's ever-widening reach, merchants were very rarely allowed on the island.
This meant that the Christmas Market was the event of the year. A special clearing in the middle of an ancient grove of trees on the far side of the island would be decorated by the island inhabitants and certain well-vetted merchants, along with island inhabitants who wished to participate would be allowed to set up shop for one day only.
Severus was certain that he would have trouble falling asleep, but in the end, he fell asleep shortly after his head hit the pillow.
Severus awoke to Hermione knocking softly on the door. Severus could rise on his own using the handle on his bed. She opened the door and greeted him, opening up the curtains and letting in the gray winter light. Today, instead of her normal apron and kerchief, she had her hair loose except for two small braids she'd braided back into a small ponytail held with a clip shaped like a flower in the center. Her long-sleeved forest green dress furled out from her waist down to her ankles. She was holding a little knit hat with a tassel and a tiny sprig of holly pinned to it in one hand.
"Breakfast is ready," she said cheerfully. "I've left your clothing hanging in the closet. Do you require assistance?"
He shook his head. Oddly enough, he was feeling rather energetic despite the cold. It helped that Hermione kept the cottage warm with charms and cheery fires in the fireplace.
"Ok! Holler if you need me," she said, turning and heading back to the little breakfast room next to the kitchen.
Severus did have a little trouble with the buttons, but he managed. His fine motor skills were developed enough that his hands had only a slight tremor. He briefly considered asking for her help and pretending to be just a little less competent if it would keep him by her side longer, then dismissed it as being pathetic.
"You can do this, Severus," he said to himself in the mirror. He had to tell her, really tell her, before it was too late.
Breakfast was delightful, but Severus found himself with a subdued appetite.
"Are you feeling quite alright?" Hermione asked, her expression concerned.
"Yes…I'm just…not sure what to expect today," he said, attempting to finish his soft-boiled egg.
Hermione's expression softened. "Of course. It's your big debut."
Severus crossed his arms despite himself. "I am not a celebrity, thank you very much."
"Oh, I didn't mean it like that," Hermione said, her expression a little playful, and Severus felt his heart flop in his chest. "I just meant that you haven't even gone down to the weekly farmer's market and now you've agreed to go to go to this major event. Maybe…maybe I'm just being selfish about this."
"No!" Severus stood up, gripping the table for support. "I want to go."
'I would go anywhere, if I got to be by your side,' he thought, holding back his voice as he gazed at her intensely.
Hermione smiled and took his hand gently. "That's settled, then. Let's clear up these dishes and get ready to go."
The magical wheelchair worked by using a series of hovering plates strung together and attached to the bottom of the metal wheels. The runic coils puffed out gusts of air that smelled oddly reminiscent of buttered popcorn and they made excellent time moving along the wooded path towards the Christmas Market.
Severus tucked his hands deeper into the red and green checkered blanket Hermione had wrapped around his legs. He could feel the cloud of her breath on the back of his neck as she pushed him along.
"Severus," Hermione said, a little out of breath.
"Yes?" Severus replied.
"Would you sing that song for me?" Hermione asked. "To help me keep the pace?"
Severus had never been much for singing before his injury, but singing had been a very effective exercise that had helped him to regain the strength in his vocal cords. He was still embarrassed to be heard by anyone but her, but the lightly snow-dusted path was blessedly deserted.
"One went walking," he sang, "Out to find a friend. One walked until one made two, and then they walked back again."
Hermione hummed along as they moved.
"Two went walking," he sang, "Two went walking free. They walked until they found a home, and then the two were three.
"Three went walking. Three walked down to the store. Three found one additional and then the three was four.
"Four went walking. Four walked to feel alive. When the four returned to town, the four had become five.
"Five went walking. Five drummed on stones with sticks. When five were done making merry, the five were now a six.
"Six went walking. Imploring unto heaven. The six with motives pure of vice found they now were seven.
"Seven went walking. Seven danced out late. When the coals burned down to ash, the seven now were eight.
"Eight went walking. Eight holding hands in one long line. When they emerged from forest glen, the eight had become nine.
"Nine went walking. Nine walked lightly out again. When the sun rose in the morn, the nine had become ten."
Severus stopped as they crested a rise in the path and looked down at the colorful market in the clearing beyond.
"Are you ready?" Hermione asked, squeezing his shoulder gently.
"Ready as I'll ever be," he replied, reaching up to cover her hand with his to calm his nerves.
The market turned out to be filled with curious and wonderful things. There were delicious treats, gifts, and entertainment galore. Severus tried to keep himself guarded, but found that he couldn't stop himself from laughing at the juggling comedy troupe, or gasping at the high-wire contortionist act. He sat close to Hermione and sipped on hot cocoa with tiny, star-shaped marshmallows that seemed to burst with wonderful flavors in his mouth.
Hermione bought him a lovely charcoal gray cardigan and he stood to allow the merchant to magically resize it to fit his shoulders and build. The engraved silver buttons down the front made him look very classy indeed. Severus smiled at his reflection, and felt like a very different person.
They ran into Harry Potter with his youngest daughter on his shoulders and two boys trailing behind him eating cotton candy. They said their hellos and Severus did not once feel the need to make a snarky quip. Minerva and Pomona came up to them both with small gifts wrapped in parchment. Hermione pulled two small presents from the bag she'd attached to the back of Severus' wheelchair. There were smiles all around as they opened their gifts and Severus found himself wearing a very warm hand-knitted scarf. It was such a happy, supportive environment, that Severus found himself wondering if all of this had been a dream. He'd worked so hard to overcome the paralysis and the effects of the venom. He'd thrived under Hermione's kindness and her magical touch. He was still himself, but he was a better version of himself than he'd ever thought he was capable of being.
At the end of the night, they took a stroll in the magical garden maze. Thousands of multi-colored orbs floated throughout the maze, casting everything in a cheery glow. Poinsettias grew from the hedges and had been grown into the walls to make novel animal patterns. Hermione's favorite had been shaped like a dancing bear. Severus had found the hippogriff rather impressive. Finally, after getting lost several times, they reached the center of the maze just as it started to lightly snow. In the gentle light around them, the snow seemed to come alive and glow with a magical light of its own. A small bench was placed by the far wall. Severus removed the blanket from his legs and slowly pulled himself from the wheelchair.
"Come, Hermione. Sit with me," he said, holding his hand out and trying to keep his voice steady. It was now or never.
She smiled and took his hand, and they walked to sit on the bench together. Together, they sat, still holding hands. Severus chanced a glance at her and saw the flakes of snow landing on her hair and cheeks in a way that made her seem to sparkle.
"Beautiful," he breathed, going scarlet as he realized he'd said it aloud.
Hermione's eyes met his. "Oh, Severus."
"It's true," he said, more loudly now. "And it's not just that. It's…everything about you. You're the reason I wake up in the morning. You're the reason I even entertained the thought of going out to see people. I never thought I was allowed—" His voice cracked and he had to take a deep breath. "I've never realized that I was allowed to be happy. Hermione…it's all because of you."
She gave him a look that made his heart flop as he steeled himself to tell her what he'd been putting off all day in fear of ruining everything.
"Severus…I…" She gripped his hands tightly and her eyes were huge and shining as she looked at him.
"Yes?" he asked, hardly daring to breathe.
She bit her lip. "I've loved you for a very long time. Probably longer than is proper. I told myself that I had to be professional and that I needed to be careful not to take advantage of you. But the truth is that I can't stop feeling this way about you. I—"
Severus cut off her words by pushing forward and pressing his lips to hers. Soon their arms were entwined as they kissed under the softly falling snow.
Christmas morning found them cuddled together under the blankets. They held hands and enjoyed the quiet joy in the world around them.
Severus didn't know it yet, but this would be the first of many magical Christmas mornings. He was done with merely surviving. It was time for him to thrive.
