A/N- Alrighty, like I promised! Christmas Eve with our two characters. I can't believe it, almost two a hundred reviews. I can't thank you all enough! Enjoy!
Hermione arrived at the end of a cheery looking sun-dappled lane with a pop. She had made sure to apparate behind a large shrub, to avoid being seen by any passing muggles. Stepping out, she set off for the end of the lane, keeping a brisk pace. Arriving at a small red brick house, she opened the white gate and headed up the pathway. Pausing briefly, she looked at the rosebush in the pot by the door, and smiled. She raised her hand to press the doorbell.
A brunette haired woman answered the door. She had a kind face that was decorated with laugh lines. Her brown eyes sparkled, and a huge grin spread over her face when she saw who was standing in front of her. "Hermione!" she said, the joy evident in her voice as she rush forth to ensconce a smiling Hermione in a tight hug.
"Hi, mum," Hermione said, a bit breathlessly due to her mothers squeezing. "I've missed you," she added as she returned the hug.
"Oh, I've missed you too dear, we have so much to catch up on!" her mother said as she bustled into the house, keeping a constant hold on her daughter's hand. "I've got dinner planned, and your father should be coming home soon, as well."
"Excellent!" Hermione said energetically as she allowed her mother to pull her in the kitchen and push her down into a seat at the small table in the middle of the room. Mrs. Granger bustled around the kitchen as she set a kettle on to boil, and grabbed two cups from the cupboard.
"Tea?" her mother asked.
"Of course, mum, Earl Grey if you please," Hermione answered with a smile.
Her mother sat down at the table. "So, tell me darling, how is teaching? Do you enjoy it?"
"Oh yes mum! It's so much fun," Hermione said buoyantly. "The students are great, and I have docked hardly any points at all so far. I'm really pleased at how they are all progressing, it's really great to see how interested they are and how eager they are to accomplish what I set to them," she gushed.
Mrs. Granger smiled at her daughter. "I'm really glad you're enjoying it, I knew you would make a great teacher. I'm sure your father would love to hear about how well your teaching is going," she said as she hopped up to pour the tea. Bringing the cups over to the table, she placed one in front of Hermione. "Are you getting on well with your colleagues?"
Hermione nodded as she took a sip from the steaming cup. "I think so," she said. "Minerva, the headmistress, is wonderful, and everyone else is really friendly," she said cheerily. "With one exception," she added with a slight frown.
Her mother raised an eyebrow. "There is someone out there who can resist your pushy friendliness?"
Hermione gave her mother a half-hearted glare. "Professor Snape, mum. He doesn't like anyone, so I'm not terribly bothered by it."
Mrs. Granger laughed. "Not bothered by it? My daughter? If I know you as well as I think, you've already plotted in your head how to get him to come around."
"Well, er, no, not exactly," Hermione said with a blush. "I'm just trying to be as friendly as I can with him, and it's very difficult," she sighed.
"Professor Snape," her mother said thoughtfully. "The name rings a bell. Isn't he the one you testified for a few years ago?"
"Yes, that's him," Hermione replied. "And he is still as snarky and withdrawn as he was then. Four years of peace have done nothing to improve his mood," she said exasperatedly.
"Well, maybe he is one of those people that takes a little time, and a rough push off a cliff in the right direction," Mrs. Granger said playfully.
Hermione looked mortified. "Mum, he would hex me into next month if I even dreamt of pushing him into anything!"
Her mother burst into giggles. "He sounds like a wonderful man."
Hermione shook her head, laughing. "No, he is definitely making it difficult to be anything more than professional colleagues," she said. "And he hasn't made working with him very enjoyable." She quickly filled her mother in on the curse, and the potion her and Severus were working on, making it out to seem a little less horrifying than it was. She also gave her mum a quick back story on Snape, telling her all about his rather sardonic personality.
"It sounds as though he needs someone like you," her mother said wisely. "Perhaps you shouldn't give up on him, and just be yourself. He may come around. People like that are usually in need of others, but they don't know how to admit it to themselves, much less anyone else."
Hermione laughed. "The idea of Snape needing anyone, let alone me, is unbelievable. Trust me though, mum, I refuse to let him get to me."
Her mother nodded. "That's what I like to hear. Now, come with me, we have to hang up the stockings before your father gets home, and we can get started on the ham afterwards."
Together they readied the house for Christmas, with Hermione doing a bit of spellwork to enhance the decorations. They went back to the kitchen after they were done, and got started on dinner. Her mother cracked jokes as Hermione glazed the ham, which ended in Hermione accidentally painting her mothers arm with glaze, instead of the ham. They laughed together, and retired to the sitting room, where they waited for Mr. Granger to come home from his shopping. After he arrived and greeted Hermione, they spent the rest of the evening singing carols, and swapping stories of past Christmases. It was a very enjoyable evening, and Hermione was persuaded to stay the night, and leave the next morning instead. They stayed up far later than they planned, the family happy to be reunited again. The clock struck, reminding them of the late hour, and the trio reluctantly got up to bed. Hermione settled down on the couch, as her parents house had no extra rooms, and drifted to sleep peacefully, her silvery otter Patronus laying underneath the Christmas tree.
Severus looked up at the looming mansion shrouded in darkness. He walked up to the double doors, and waved his wand in front of them and whispered a few words. The doors creaked open, and he entered.
"Frannel!" he shouted as he looked around the spotless foyer. He pulled his suitcase out of his pocket, and returned it to its normal size.
"Frannel is being here, sir," a quaky voice said.
Severus looked around, and finally spotted the voice's owner. A curious looking house-elf with rather large ears and a small button nose stood at attention. "Ah, Frannel, I need you to take my bag up and place it in my usual room," Severus ordered shortly, but not unkindly.
The elf nodded frantically, and rushed to obey.
Severus walked towards a door on the left, and entered. The room inside looked forbidding, with dark, stiff looking couches and and an armchair, along with a detailed black marble fireplace. He waved his wand, and the dull embers in the grate roared to life, casting the room in a warm glow. He sat down in the armchair, and sighed. The armchair was an antique, having been passed down through his mother's family. Severus never liked the chair though, and when he inherited it he had placed quite a few comfort charms on the thing, so now it was much easier to sit in. He looked around, his eyes gravitating towards a picture on the mantle over the fireplace. The severe looking woman smiled in the picture, holding a black haired baby in her arms as she cooed and tickled the baby.
It was the only picture of his mother and him together that Severus had been able to find. His father had been so enraged at Eileen's disappearance that he had burned any photos he could find. Severus had hid that particular photo from his father's destructive path. His mother was actually smiling, and as far as he could remember, that was the only picture his mother showed any form of emotion in. After that picture had been taken, his father had lost his job and gone to the alcohol.
Severus cringed slightly as he remembered his father's many drunken rages. Eileen sported a mark from her husband almost constantly. She had never let the drunken man touch Severus, though. He heaved a sigh. Appropriate memories for a Christmas Eve, he thought wryly to himself. Shrugging off the gloom that had settled over him because of his reveries, he shouted for Frannel.
"Yes, sir, Frannel is here," the elf said after he arrived with a loud POP.
"Prepare dinner, Frannel. Whatever we have is good enough," Severus said wearily.
The elf nodded and disappeared with another loud POP.
Another Christmas alone, he thought sourly. It was his fault, he knew. He always rejected Minerva's offer of Christmas dinner with her. He enjoyed the solitude, and his immense library was housed at Spinner's End. That was reason enough to spend the holidays alone at the massive mansion he had inherited.
Severus had no idea the mansion existed until six years ago. He had received an owl telling him that his mother had died, and left everything she owned to him. Including the library, with hundreds of first editions, and numerous manuscripts. It had a large muggle collection, too, as Eileen had shared Severus's love of poetry and muggle novels. It was how he had come to love The Count of Montecristo, and Edgar Allan Poe. His mother had also left him a sizable fortune, enough for him to spend the rest of his days in quiet comfort if he so wished.
He scoffed quietly, imagining his life if he had hid away in his mansion, not doing anything for anyone else. Living for himself. He didn't think he could do it. He appreciated how teaching kept him busy, and left little to no time to dwell on things of the past.
He got up tiredly, and headed towards the dining room. He knew Frannel would take his dinner where ever he wanted to eat it, but Severus felt like paying a tribute, however small, to the holiday. Frannel had prepared a meal of baked turkey, mashed potatoes, and a multitude of sides. Severus only ate a small amount, and told Frannel to clean up and retire for the night.
He went upstairs, to a small room off the north corridor. He preferred this room to any others, because it offered him a view of the extensive grounds, and he didn't enjoy the idea of sleeping where his mother had, in the grand master suite. The king size bed was freshly made, and Severus quickly undressed and climbed in between the clean sheets, and cast his doe Patronus before turning over and falling asleep.
The man looked around hastily, waiting for his target to come walking up. If he weren't in hiding, he would have been tapping his foot from impatience. Suddenly, the man turned his head towards the sound of distant footsteps.
Shrinking further into the shadows, he took out his wand, whispering to it quietly. It was an old superstitious habit he had developed with his old wand, before it had been snapped. He liked to think it gave the wand luck.
Taking a careful aim at the doorway, the man prepared himself, running through the words in his mind. The footsteps got closer, and the man watched the doorway unblinkingly.
The shadow of a figure appeared in the doorway, and grew steadily bigger as the person drew nearer. The figure stepped into the doorway, and was revealed to be an older man, of strong build, cloaked in the dark colour that the Aurors wore.
The man watched the figure take a step forward, and then he spoke, jabbing his wand in the direction of the figure. "Nox Terrorem!"
The figure let out a twisted shout, and crumpled to the floor, twitching. The man watched the figure, waiting the appropriate time before uttering the other part of the curse. "Consumat Vos," he said the second part in almost a purr, letting his malicious intent flow into the words.
The figure on the ground stood up slowly, and then arched back, screaming in agony. He grasped his head, and tried to tear out his hair, screaming and thrashing about, muttering something in Latin between screams.
The man in the shadows nodded to himself, satisfied. Let Vegar tell him that wasn't a important official, the man thought to himself satisfactorily. Getting up, he covered his ears and strode up to the figure. The screaming man looked up at him, eyes blank, a look of utmost horror on his face. The man kicked him, and the screams died momentarily. Walking off, the man drew his cloak around him, securing it tightly. Twisting suddenly, he apparated away as the screams of the figure in Auror robes grew ever louder.