Author's Note: Apologies to you all, but I have made yet another mistake in the order of chapters. The one I uploaded last time isn't due until I've uploaded all the Christmas Dinner ones and one other. Please be patient with me. I have so little time for writing, editing and uploading at the moment that I make these mistakes quite frequently. Real life is demanding too much attention at the moment.

What I did was: I changed the previous chapter to what it should have been, namely the first of three Christmas Dinner chapters. To make up for your trouble, I uploaded the second part as well. The two belong together anyway. So... what you need to do now, I think, is to read the previous chapter first (because it has been replaced) and then this one. Have fun. I sincerely hope this works out as planned. Sorry again.

Christmas Dinner at McGillivray Manor, Part II

Severus's eyes shot upwards. He tried to make sense of his Transfiguration teacher's words, but found it startlingly difficult. Had the Professor just reprimanded his father? Surely not. He threw a careful side-glance upwards at the bearded soldier, who seemed inclined to take another person's advice for once because he had started peering into the other room in an attempt of catching a glimpse at Mrs. Black.

"No one in sight," he said, "neither my sister nor her dress. I shall be certain to take notice of it in the course of the evening, though. Will there be many guests?"

"Not enough," sighed the deputy headmistress. "By far not enough if this was meant to be any kind of attempted reunion."

"Well, the old family line is divided," observed the Snape. "There is nothing a Christmas Dinner will be able to do about it. Politics at work, as you doubtless know."

Severus looked around. He had not seen many people yet but those who had caught his attention were not much to his taste. When the Professor finally got round to showing everyone to their seats, however, he realised that it was indeed just a small group of people who had made their way to join the dinner tonight. There were four Blacks (of course, Severus thought, the very person to turn up in spite of so many people staying away was Sirius Black with his annoying younger brother), Richard Lestrange, who was one of his father's work colleagues besides being a relative of some sort, Professor Sprout, his Herbology teacher, a woman he had never seen before, and the three hosts, one of whom was the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts.

This year's dinner promised to be less entertaining than even he had anticipated.

"How is your husband, Minerva?" enquired Mrs. Black after ten minutes of icy silence during the first round of wine, provided by Professor McGonagall's elderly mother. "I hear he had quite a share in my boy's recovery?"

Severus shot his archenemy a foul look. He was not entirely informed about all that had happened during the last term, but he knew with certainty (because Lucius had his ears everywhere) that Black and his friends had got round expulsion once again, when this time, for once, they would certainly have deserved it.

"Foul, stinking piece of shit," Skein remarked, his hand resting lazily on Severus's shoulder. "We'll show him, once we're back at Hogwarts."

"My ex- husband," informed the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts her distinguished guest, "has still not managed to grow up, in spite of his being made head of department at St. Mungo's. His new uniform looks rather dashing, though. It features the usual fish, ring, bird, and tree, all in gold, I was told. They really don't know how to spend their funding properly around that hospital."

"Really, Minerva, as though you could estimate…"

"I can estimate Topaz's way with money, which is quite enough for me to judge rightly in this matter, Gladia."

Wine did strange things to grown-ups, Severus thought. The discussion became more and more heated as the evening continued and both, his aunt and his Transfiguration teacher developed a style of bantering rather more suitable for the Hogwarts grounds between lessons than a grown-up banquet. Most of the male guests, including his own father, spoke little while there was food on the table, but communicated by the use of approving or disapproving grunts, thus accompanying their wives and cousins' words.

At one point, the discussion moved to family matters, which made both, Severus's father and Professor McGonagall move slightly forward in their chair, the latter suddenly seeming less befuddled than only minutes ago.

"Rodney Robertson," said the woman Severus had not met before, "is the reason for my son's state. You cannot honestly keep up his protection, colonel."

It was an unspoken agreement that during the Christmas Dinner all grown-ups used each other's first names, but people like Severus's father were instinctively excluded from this rule by some, especially with relation to delicate subjects, such as Rodney Robertson or the colonel's unwavering loyalty towards his brother's step son. Severus wondered if grown-ups, too, were sometimes a little afraid of the tall soldier when taking positions opposite to his.

"I have every reason to protect the boy," came the soldier's dark voice now from somewhere far above Severus's head. "Your lot would have lynched him on spot if I hadn't. In fact, Fulvia Lupin, I must tell you that there is probably going to be proof of his innocence once we have captured Viminal and locked him in ground level. Rodney has been willing to speak – more so, anyway, than in previous years. He might get over his past sooner than we think, in which case I believe he will be able to provide valuable evidence for or against Thaibary's case."

Professor McGonagall shoved her square glasses back to the top of her nose. "Lance," she said quietly, "you think there might be evidence for Thaibary's innocence?"

"I do indeed," replied the colonel darkly. "There was another one at Mull during that time. At least that is what my sources imply. But let us not speak of it now." His gaze passed Sirius and landed on his son, who, as always when his father's attention was directed at him, straightened up a little in his seat. "Severus, have you had enough?" he enquired, wilfully turning his attention away from the conversation. "I haven't seen you eat a single pea."

"I don't like peas," said Skein, pulling a disgusted face. Severus winced. "B-but I'll be sure to have some, father," he corrected himself quickly.

As the evening drew on there was more wine, more food, and more stories. Sirius had to admit that he loved his uncle's recounts of African tribal movements, even though he did not understand half of what was being said about the military tactics. The matter seemed of greater interest to people who had actually been there. His father, of course, Richard Lestrange (thank Merlin his unbearable sons were not with him for once) and, surprisingly, Professor Sprout, who had been quite chatty all evening and moved closer to the colonel with every glass of wine she consumed.

His uncle, he noticed, tended to content himself with water, in spite of Professor Sprout "accidentally" confusing his glass for hers and thus tempting him to have some of the "delicious" wine, as she put it, again and again. The soldier took all this with somewhat more ease than Sirius would have expected and readily changed all the wine that threatened to come near his mouth into water with a mere flick of his wand.

Professor Sprout seemed disappointed, albeit bemused.

"Really, Lance, I don't see you getting younger over all those serious matters you have to tackle at work," she remarked grinningly. "Why not enjoy some more relaxed activities while being away from M'bwa? By the way, I trust Captain Crabbe is in good health?"

"Splendid," assured the colonel.

"I thought so," mused the Herbology witch. "He has not replied to any of my letters but I get regular updates from the ladies down in the pub, of course… what is it called again, dear?"

"The Elephant," said the colonel.

"Ah, yes. Home to a number of doubtful young ladies, of course, ey?" The Professor nudged Sirius's uncle in the ribs. "None for you among them then?"

"ENOUGH!"

All conversation was silenced as Severus's father put down his glass and rose pointedly from his seat. All three children held their breath, both Blacks raised their eyebrows simultaneously, and Professor Sprout's gaze became somewhat calculating, while Professor McGonagall buried her face in both hands. Severus, Sirius noticed, was not looking at his father for a change, his black eyes glittering with what looked like a sudden jolt of pain and anger – in the direction of their Herbology teacher.

"Noo, that wasnae very sensitive," Mr. McGillivray observed, his wife rising from her seat as well.

"No fighting in this room, please. It is newly refurbished."

"I am sure no one is interested in a duel," said her daughter weakly. "Mandy, that was rude and unnecessary. Lance is still in mourning and you try to hook him up with some barmaid."

"There're many decent ones among them," said Professor Sprout, shrugging. She turned to Severus's father again, re-filling his glass with some suspiciously red-looking water. "Sit down, dear. You know I don't mean it."

"I don't think I shall," said the colonel coldly. "In fact, it might be best if I took my leave. If you'll excuse us, Minerva…"

"Lance," said the deputy headmistress quietly, now getting up as well and walking towards the tall soldier, "let's have a little talk in private. If we have all finished," (she looked around to check if anyone was still eating) "we should proceed to the living room anyway. Mother put up a beautiful Christmas Tree there, although I am sure it will not match the beauty and elegance of the one you have at Grimauld Place."

And she left. Sirius found it astounding how obligingly his uncle followed the slender witch out of the room, given that he usually insisted on getting his will. There was something between the two of them that he could not quite place. Professor McGonagall seemed to have power over everyone, surely on account of being a teacher, but his uncle under anyone's influence? It did not seem very likely.

Something tugged at his sleeve and he looked down. It was Regulus.

"Mother wants us to go in there," said the smaller boy, pointing to a room further down the corridor. "The grown-ups would like to be among themselves."

"That's new," Sirius observed darkly. "I don't mind, though. As long as – oh no!"

It was at this precise moment that he spotted the figure of the younger Snape disappear through the door into the room his brother had indicated.

"Do we have to waste our time with him?"

"I don't know if we have to waste our time with you," remarked his brother dryly. "Don't think I'll join you making fun of him just because you're jealous that he made it into Slytherin while you did not. You've done that to me often enough."

At this moment, Sirius would have liked nothing more than smack his younger brother in the face. Last time he had tried, however, his mother had not given him any food for two days in a row and that, he decided, was not worth the fun. Snape would be a better target once they were unsupervised.