Disclaimer: see first chapter
A/N: Next chapter will be out this evening, and the last one on Christmas Day! TOMORROW IS CHRISTMAS! IT'S PRACTICALLY HERE!
…
Chapter 1:
Snape stared at the thing before him.
"Oh, bloody hell," he muttered. "You… are not real."
"Wrong, Snapey," Bellatrix grinned. "I'm real, and I'm here for you."
Snape sat back in his chair, eyes bulging out of his head. "What, to drag me to hell?"
"Unfortunately, no," Bellatrix said, "that's been done too many times. You ever read that Muggle book? The one with the cranky old man and the ghosts?"
Snape raised an eyebrow.
"Didn't think so. Well, that's a pity," she grinned manically. "You're the cranky old man, Snapey. And you will be visited by three ghosts tonight."
"Do you count?" Snape asked.
A tiny corner of his mind wondered at the fact that he was handling this so very well. It's not every day that the ghost of one of your former allies/enemies/allies/enemies/whatevers shows up and tells you that you're going to relive a Muggle book that you've never read before, even if you are a wizard and have run into a few ghosts in your time.
"No," Bellatrix snarled. "Now you bloody pay attention, Snapey. D'you want to end up like me? Burning in hell for always and eternity?"
Snape shook his head automatically.
"Then you damn well better listen to what these stinkin' ghosts have to say to you, precious," Bellatrix snapped. "Or you'll end up like me, but even worse off. You've got chains stretching from here to Paris, Snapey, and if you don't shape up they'll drag you to hell."
"What chains?" Snape asked suspiciously.
"These chains were forged in life, by your actions. Every time you did something evil, or wicked, or just plain naughty, you added a few links to the chains. And even after your precious little 'Redemptive Whirl', you kept on adding," Bellatrix's lips twisted into a grimace. "So, expect the first ghost tonight when the bell tolls one."
"But–" Snape started, but Bellatrix cut him off.
"You bloody listen! I don't want to be stuck with you in hell for the rest of eternity. You're the reason I'm dead, you filthy little traitor! You sold us out for a pat on the head and a pardon from Potter! You filth! Traitor! Slime! Greasy little PIIIG!"
And with that, Bellatrix sank into the floor, and vanished.
Snape's rooms were silent, and still. There was no sign that anything had happened. The two clocks were back in their places, unexploded and ticking softly.
"Humbug," Snape muttered, but with much less conviction than before.
He glanced at his stew, but was too unsettled to eat, or even to clean up after himself. He left it there for the House Elves to take care of, and went to bed.
TING! BONG!
Snape woke with a start from an uneasy sleep as the mantel clock and the grandfather clock simultaneously struck one. He looked around the room. It was empty. Before Snape could draw in a breath for his customary humbug, a bright light filled the room, and a figure appeared in the midst of it. Snape threw up a hand in front of his eyes. The light dimmed and Snape lowered his hand. Before him stood Remus Lupin, exactly as Snape had known him in life, still glowing somewhat, and looking at Snape.
"Hello, Snape. Long time, no see," Remus said.
"What are you doing here, Lupin?" Snape snarled.
"I'm here for your welfare."
"A goodnight's sleep would better aid my welfare."
"Your salvation, then."
"You bloody better make this quick, Lupin. I haven't got all night."
"Take my hand," said Lupin, holding his hand out to Snape.
"…No."
"What?"
"I said no."
"Just take my bloody hand."
"No, I'm not taking your hand!"
"Fine!" Lupin reached out with two fingers and jabbed Snape right between the eyes. "Now you'll bloody fly, you snot-nosed wanker!"
Before Snape could respond to this remark, Lupin seized him by the collar of his pajamas and threw him through the wall.
Except Snape didn't crash into the wall. He didn't hit anything. The stab from Lupin's fingers had, apparently, rendered him insubstantial.
A hand grabbed the back of his collar again, and Snape stared up at Lupin. "What. The. Bloody. HELL?"
"Told you to take my hand," Lupin snapped angrily. "But no, you had to be difficult! Bloody Scrooge wasn't this difficult when Dickens wrote it."
"What?"
"Just shut up and pay attention."
For a few moments, they continued on through the empty blackness that had surrounded Snape since he went through the wall.
"Uh. Where are we?" Snape asked after a few moments.
"Your life," Lupin said brusquely. "Give us a moment; I'm still new at this."
Snape was quiet for a minute, and then noticed that the blackness was slowly melting away, resolving itself into a neighborhood, full of houses and people.
"Lupin? Where… this is my house."
"Is it?" Lupin asked brightly as they landed. "Lovely. Well, no, not really. Bit of a pit, isn't it?"
And Lupin was right. The house where Snape had grown up, at Spinner's End, was indeed a pit. It held no happy memories for Snape, and he was fairly pissed off that Lupin had dragged him here in the first place.
"Yes, now can we leave?" Snape snapped, crossing his arms sulkily.
"No," Lupin said seriously. "There are things you need to see."
Snape looked around, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. "What am I supposed to see?"
Lupin nodded towards a small boy sitting by the door of the run-down house next to them. "That."
"…Is me," Snape said quietly, staring at a younger version of himself.
Lupin nodded. "You look miserable."
"I was."
"Why? Isn't it Christmas Day?"
"So?"
Lupin looked nonplussed. "Well… well, you're a kid. Kids are usually… you know, happy at Christmas. Actually, they're usually bouncing off the walls with crazy."
"Maybe you and your stupid friends did that. I never did," Snape muttered, eyes still on the lonely little boy poking the dirt with a stick.
"Well, maybe Christmas wasn't all that great at home," Lupin said awkwardly. "But… what about at Hogwarts? Hogwarts always does Christmas right, you know. It's got to have been better then, right?"
Snape rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, Christmas was wonderful there. You and Potter and Black made my life hell, remember?"
Lupin flushed a bit. "Erm. Yes. But, let's go anyway."
"Why?" Snape protested as Lupin latched onto the back of his collar again.
"Because, that's the way things work, Snape," Lupin said, clearly aggravated.
The scene in front of them faded, and Snape kept watching the little boy until he vanished.
'Was Christmas always that miserable?' He wondered to himself.
As the blackness lifted, Snape saw that they were in Hogwarts again. But it was the Hogwarts of his childhood, not the one where he taught now.
Proof of this was Dumbledore himself, presiding over the Christmas Feast, saying "Happy Christmas to all, and tuck in!"
There were more students here than there had been in years, in Snape's present time. Probably not since the Yule Ball, back in the days of the Triwizard Tournament. As he looked around, he could identify faces of people who were long dead, or who he just hadn't seen in years.
"There's Avery and Mulciber," Snape pointed, a smirk twisting his features. "They're dead now, you know. And look, there's you and your morons. You're all dead, too."
"Tactful of you, Snape," Lupin rolled his eyes. "See anybody else?"
Snape deliberately looked away from the Gryffindor table. "No."
"Are you sure?" Lupin asked irritatingly, elbowing Snape in the side, like they were friends or something.
"Shut the hell up, Lupin," Snape snarled.
Lupin shrugged, and leaned back against the wall, watching the Feast with every sign of enjoyment.
"Can we bloody go now?" Snape grumbled.
"Nope," Lupin grinned. "We're not done here yet."
As Snape watched, people drifted slowly, in ones and twos, out of the Great Hall, until only a younger version of himself and a redheaded girl over at the Gryffindor table were left.
"No, but really. Let's go," Snape said anxiously.
Lupin kept his eyes on the two thirteen-year-olds, flatly ignoring the older Snape.
"Oh, hell," Snape muttered.
"Happy Christmas, Sev!" Lily Evans said brightly, dropping into the seat next to Snape.
"Happy Christmas, Lily," Snape replied, considerably less brightly.
"You sound thrilled," she frowned.
Younger Snape shrugged. "I'm not much of a fan of Christmas."
Lily sighed, and then grinned. "Maybe this will change your mind!" She reached into her book-bag and, with a flourish, pulled out a neatly wrapped gift. "Happy Christmas!"
Snape opened the present hesitantly, revealing a giant slab of Honeyduke's Chocolate, in the shape of a Christmas Tree.
"That's cute," Lupin grinned. "If I recall right, she once broke a bar of that stuff over James' head."
Snape glanced over at him, frowning, and said, "I don't care."
Lupin shrugged, rolling his eyes, and turned his attention back to the scene before them.
"Thanks, Lily! It looks delicious," said younger Snape, "I, um, I didn't…I'm sorry, I didn't get anything…." He trailed off looking apologetic.
"Oh," said Lily, "well, that's alright! It's the thought that counts, right? Happy Christmas!" She leaned over and gave Snape a hug.
"Well, I suppose… Happy Christmas, Lily," The younger Snape actually smiled. Snape smiled too. Lupin noticed.
"You two were really close."
"Yes," Snape watched himself leave the Hall with Lily, still chattering away happily. "She was always very kind to me, Merlin knows why," he paused and shook his head, "She was so young…" he trailed off. They looked on silently as the scene began to change.
Snape paled. "No. Oh, no. Not this one, please not this one–"
Lupin shrugged his shoulders sadly. "It's your brain, Severus. Your life. I'm just the vessel that picks out the memories. There's a reason you have to see this particular Christmas, no matter how painful it is."
Snape stared at his past self, who was slumped at the Slytherin table, morosely gazing across the room at the pretty redheaded girl who was studiously ignoring him.
"Sixth year, right?" Lupin asked rhetorically, inspecting his surroundings. "The War was getting worse, which explains why almost nobody's here."
Snape said nothing, only shifted uncomfortably.
"If I remember right, this is the year we all decided to join the Order. And it was when James stopped being such… well, such an arse, really," Lupin mused. "Still took Lily a while to stop hating him, though."
Snape bit back a snarl, instead saying, "You can really stop with all the reminiscing now, Lupin."
Lupin shrugged again, and then nodded at the scene before them. "Here it comes."
Just as three years previously, Lily and Snape were soon the only two people left in the Great Hall. Unlike their third year, however, this time Snape was the one to rise and cross the room, sitting awkwardly across from Lily.
"Can I–"
"You really don't have anything to say that could possibly interest me," Lily said coldly, looking away from her former friend.
"What about the fact that I'm sorry? For everything last year," Snape offered.
Lily stared at him. "For everything last year? What about for everything this year? You're practically a Death Eater already, Sev. If you didn't know me, just knew that I was a Mudblood–" she spat the word furiously, "–you'd hate me on principle, right?"
"N-no," Snape stuttered awkwardly.
"Yes, you would," Lily retorted. "You are a completely different person from who I met years ago. I barely recognize you anymore. You've changed too much, Sev. I'm sorry."
She rose to her feet, and began to walk away.
"Lily, please–" Snape lurched upright, but when she didn't slow her steps, he slumped back into the seat and buried his head in his hands.
"Enough," the other Snape snarled, rounding on Lupin. "Bloody enough. Send me back, I won't see anymore."
Lupin regarded him sadly, and then sighed, "Alright, I guess."
He reached out, as if to poke Snape between the eyes again, and then paused. "I am sorry, you know. About all of this…."
Snape said nothing, only glared at the dead werewolf furiously.
"Right. The next ghost will be by when the clock strikes two," Lupin sighed, and in an eyeblink, Snape was back in his room. Alone.
…
A/N: Next chapter is the Ghost of Christmas Present!