The castle was decorated in holly and mistletoe, and between the snow and absence of most of the students a quiet peace had fallen. Evelyn and Severus had gotten into the habit of "running into each other" just before lunch and then heading to the library to browse, read by the fire, and discuss magical theory.

Their pairing hadn't gone unnoticed as rumors spread around the faculty as though it were a sewing circle. The gossip went on:

"Is it true that Severus Snape was seen at The Three Broomsticks the other day?"

"I even heard that he was seen… smiling…"

"Oh my, are you sure it wasn't at Madam Puddifoot's?"

"Could you imagine? Severus sitting in front of a pink lace tablecloth sipping tea?"

This was usually followed by some manner of sniggering.

On Christmas Eve, the two were sitting as usual, pouring over their respective readings, when Snape broke the silence, "I meant to ask, will you be at the Christmas lunch tomorrow?"

"No," she said gently, "My family is local, and we get together for lunch." His face dropped subtly in disappointment, and she added, "I'll be apparating back into Hogsmeade in the evening. I could use some company on the walk back to the castle, that is, if you're not too full of minced pie."

They agreed on a time for their chilly Christmas stroll back to the castle and secretly awaited as the hour approached. As Snape was leaving the Great Hall on Christmas day, Dumbledore caught up to him to ask where he was headed so early.

"I agreed to escort Professor Whisp back to the castle," he answered casually.

"Do I need to send a chaperone for the two of you," Dumbledore teased.

"It's… not like that," Snape responded carefully.

"Oh?" Dumbledore raised his bushy eyebrows, "Sybill had the two of you together by Christmas."

Snape made a face of disgust at being included in a "prediction" before recovering himself. "It's not that I don't want it to be. It's just that I don't know if I…"

Dumbledore sat down in the silence, and Snape continued, "For so long, all that I've had to hold onto was Lilly's memory. I don't know how to let go of that."

"You don't have to, Severus." Dumbledore replied, "That's not the way that love works. Keep your memories, and keep Lilly in your heart, but you can open yourself to new experiences too. In fact, I think it would make Lilly happy to know that you had."

Snape reflected on that point. There was something very disarming about Albus Dumbledore. He was an easy man with whom to confess your deepest fears. Snape continued, "I am a broken and bitter man, Albus. What could I possibly offer another person?"

"Well that much is for Evelyn to decide, but I'd venture to say that she certainly seems to see something."

"I will consider that. Thank you, Headmaster. I need to be going if I'm to get to Hogsmeade on time."

"Of course. Happy Christmas, Severus," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled over his half moon glasses.

"Happy Christmas."

Snape hurried across the castle grounds, feeling lighter. After a brief chill passing the dementors, he was at Hogsmeade station. The seconds passed. Evelyn was late. Millions of thoughts swirled through Snape's mind until, finally, Evelyn apparated onto the platform.

"Sorry about that," she said through a smile and rosy cheeks, "Mum and Dad always make such a fuss. Dad says you owe him 12 inches of parchment on potions best brewed while Mars is at opposition."

"He's joking," Severus asked, curious about the context in which his name had come up in the Whisp residence.

"I genuinely don't know," she giggled.

They set off on their way back to the castle. "How is your dad, by the way?" Snape asked.

"Oh he's well. Still trying to use Mum's cookware as a cauldron."

Snape let out a bemused sound. His own parents had been a witch and muggle, but his father had isolated his mother from the wizarding world and forbade her from using magic. As a child, Severus could never understand. Why couldn't she just use her powers to protect them from him?

Relationships can take hold of someone with a capacity far greater than any known magic. Perhaps that's why his relationship with the dark lord, although unpleasant, was so alluring. It was familiar. It was the closest template he had to familial love. Manipulation, fear, always a reason that outsiders just wouldn't understand or can't be trusted. Wasn't that what families looked like?

In his recovery, he often feared that he was doomed to abuse the power of connection the way his father had, the way the dark lord had. He had met the monster that lived inside of himself. He had witnessed the atrocities he was capable of inflicting. Dumbledore, ever his champion, had convinced him that he could be better.

As they prepared to pass the dementors guarding the school grounds, Evelyn braced herself. She threw a cautious glance in Snape's direction. He took her arm protectively, and she could feel his warmth and strength as they trudged past the wraiths without incident.

As they crossed the castle grounds, they chatted about the feast at Hogwarts and the reappearance of Mrs. Longbottom's hat.

"Sometimes I think," Snape added, "that Griffendors are sorted based on a certain penchant for practical jokes."

"So then, are Slytherins sorted for their complete seriousness?" She jabbed lightly.

"We have a sense of humor," he defended, "It's a dark sense of humor, but humor nonetheless."

They had returned to the faculty tower and were preparing to say goodnight, when Severus pulled out a small parcel, wrapped in brown cloth.

"Happy Christmas." He handed the package to Evelyn, trying to appear casual.

"Aw Severus, but I didn't get you anything." She pulled back pieces of cloth to reveal a silver locket with a triquetra etched on the outside and filled on the inside with magically preserved sage and rue.

She turned it over and read the back, "Prince?"

"It belonged to my grandmother. I was told that she was a necromancer and carefully crafted her safeguards. I think she would have liked the idea of you having it."

Evelyn was overwhelmed. She had enjoyed their friendship, but she could no longer endure the torment of uncertainty. She grabbed him by the cloak and pulled him close to share a kiss. Their bodies melted together and she could feel every point of contact between them. She let out a sigh as though she had just taken the first sip of icy water on a hot summer day.

He slipped his arms around her waist. As his forearm touched her side, he reflexively winced at the thought of his brand. He felt as though he were contaminating something pure.

"What's wrong?" She whispered in a breathy voice, her forehead against his.

With every ounce of self control, he pulled back, taking her hands in his, "There's a lot about my past that we haven't discussed."

"Severus, I love the man that you are today. I don't care who you were or what mistakes you may have made." All she could think of was grabbing him again, but this was clearly important to him.

"It's for me." he said in a soft voice, "I need you to know, and I want you to hear it from me."

"Of course," she would listen to whatever he felt he needed to say.

"I'll put a kettle on. This could be a long night."