Christmas was in the air.
The students felt it. The professors definitely felt it.
It was as though two full moons were in the sky at once and the students were bouncing off the walls, high on Honeyduke sweets and promises of exciting plans for the winter hols.
Most seasoned professors had given up on teaching: assigning silly busywork and independent study periods. They took turns supervising these study periods, held in the Great Hall, while their colleagues sipped on boozy eggnog and stuffed themselves silly with Elven Gingerbread in their offices. And the headmistress turned a blind eye to it all. She herself was partial to a good Scotch and shortbread at noon.
Now the newest of professors did not get this memo.
One Miss Hermione Granger was in her office actually marking a set of Potions parchments with a fat quill dripping with red ink, and rubbing her forehead.
"It's not Christmas yet," she muttered, writing 'Troll' on yet anouther half-arsed essay.
She set it aside and looked up longingly at a portrait on the wall. There was the previous Potions Master, the esteemed Severus Snape. He was standing with his arms crossed, signature black robes up to his chin and his brows forming into the most magnificent scowl. Would Professor Snape allow the students to slack off researching the properties of wormwood a week before Christmas? Surely not.
It was then that the Headmistress decided to pop by with a tray of biscuits and a hot cocoa. Minerva MacGonagall set down the tray, flicked her fingers and set both quill and essays aside. "Miss Granger, have a biscuit." And when the woman refused, Minerva had no choice but to demand the witch have a biscuit. She couldn't afford to lose staff due to stress leave this late in the year.
"But I'm not even through half!" Hermione cried. "I need to give students feedback before their O.W.L.s-"
"What you need is a break. I am asking, no, demanding you not to mark a single parchment until midnight of December 25th." And with a flick of her wand, the magic set upon Hermione's hands.
Hermione frowned, clenched her fists and tried with all her might to pick up any sort of writing utensil on her desk. All was in vain. A thick shield of an enchantment pushed her back even after she moved in the direction on her quill.
"It's. Not. Fair!" she cried.
"It's for your own good."
Now Hermione had no choice, but to take a long sip of cocoa and chipmunk a few biscuits into her cheeks. The headmistress smiled. "Now that you're well merry, there's a favour I have to ask."
Hermione swallowed the cocoa. There wasn't just boiling, hot milk in there. Her whole chest warmed up and her heart beat slowly. The biscuits danced inside her belly.
"The students want Christmas. The rest of us want them to bloody well shut up about it," Minerva said. "However, the last Headmaster of the school hid all the decorations, all the banners and ribbons and even the tree stand in the castle and threw away the key."
Hermione took anouther sip of the cocoa. "Couldn't you conjure up some new ones?"
"And break tradition?" Minerva's face said all it needed.
Hermione downed the cocoa, and realized the cup was just as full as it had been minutes prior. The world began to swim before her in a happy, colorful haze. "I suppooose I could ask the old headmaster where he hid the key," she drawled.
"Excellent. I knew you'd be just the witch for the job!" Minerva pushed the tray of biscuits closer to her. "I will owl you his address, just in case."
Hermione knew that tone too. She went beet red and all but shrunk under her desk. She glanced up at the Potions Master's portrait and bit her lip. "I think that's a good idea."
"Thank you. And remember: Christmas depends on you!" Minerva said, patting her on the shoulder.
The cocoa mug was never-ending.
-x-x-x-
Of course Hermione knew where to find the headmaster. He was the Potions Master. He was Severus Snape. And she had definitely spent months locating his hideout via the House Elf system. She knew an Elf who knew and Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew and Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf who knew an Elf...who knew a house with NO Elf.
And that was the house Hermione was standing right in front of. It was located in the very middle of the Forbidden Forest, on a high hill with a high fence. She made her way up and knocked on the gate. The wards shook and let her through.
Interesting.
Behind the gate was a quaint cottage made of stone with a piping chimney. All around the house was a garden. Plants grew in small, warm patches of soil amidst the snow and a greenhouse with vegetables and tropical leaves stood in the far back.
This was not what concerned Hermione. What concerned her was that the entire house was covered in Christmas decorations. There were the Hogwarts banners and streamers and the little toys and figurines and lights.
Hermione swallowed. Hard.
She could just...steal...the decorations off his lawn and book it back to Hogwarts. Somehow, she thought, the Headmaster must have placed a dark spell preventing one from doing just that.
"Hello? Professor Snape? Severus?" she said, knocking on the door of the cottage.
The door opened. There stood a man in a grey knit sweater and a very jolly holiday mug with the words "Best Headmistress Ever!".
He looked her up and down and huffed. "Good evening, Miss Granger."
He gestured for her to enter. Hesitantly, she did so...settling herself down on the sofa littered with red and green cushions. She put her feet on an ottoman and a pair of striped socks slid on her feet and a hot cup of cocoa floated into her hands.
Severus Snape settled down in the armchair before her, slowly swirling his mug. "Well, well, well. I suppose you've come to take back the Hogwarts Christmas paraphernalia."
Hermione swallowed. "Quite right." It was one thing to spend hours ogling her eyes at a magnificent portrait-and entirely different one ogling a very real wizard.
"The Headmistress seems quite desperate," he purred.
She licked her lips. "Are you planning to host a party?"
"Of sorts."
"Funny," she said. "I always imagined you the type of wizard who hates crowds. And anything...not black."
He smirked. Smirked. "Imagination is a curious creature."
"What will it take to convince you?"
He leaned in, his black eyes glittering. "I am a very lonely man. And I imagine, Hogwarts is a very lonely place."
"Imagination is a curious creature-"
"-perhaps you might like to keep me company for a bit of...holiday brewing."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She did like to brew.
So they went to his large kitchen, which was right past an incredibly tall Christmas tree on an ornate stand. There, the Potions Master laid out a variety of herbs and tinctures. Hermione knew exactly what those were for. And Severus, oh, he did too.
"Are you sure this is what you'd like the two of us to begin with?" she whispered, eyeing the mortar and pestle before her.
"Perhaps you'd like to start with a lighter recipe."
She nodded quickly. They began to brew a soothing potion, one to help with calming the nerves after a long day. Once brewed, they each downed a mug and sighed. The sky outside was dark and werewolves howled in the distance.
The Potions Master offered her a spare bedroom in the back of the house, one right by the outside wall. Hermione was all too glad to take it, that is, until she crawled under the covers and found herself shivering (even with all the spells and guest blankets piled on top of her).
The following morning, he asked her if she'd slept well.
"Never better," Hermione replied.
They spent the day working in the garden and tending to the plants. They ate and talked and sat by the fire to read. In the evening, they brewed again...this time a nice dream potion.
That night, Hermione went to bed shivering, but dreaming that she was in bed with the Potions Master: hiding her toes between his legs.
The following day, they brewed a scent potion. This time, Hermione dreamt she had dug her nose into the crook of Snape's neck and nuzzled the lovely space between his clavicle all night long.
It was almost Christmas, time was running out. One more night and Hermione would not have enough time to deliver the decorations back to the castle.
On the last night, she eyed the ingredients for the potion and turned to the wizard.
"Are you prepared?" he asked.
She nodded. He set out the ingredients and they brewed together. They brewed fast. They brewed slow. They brewed until they were sweating under the fumes of the cauldron. When they were done, they downed the potion: one cup each.
And then, locking eyes, they made their way to Severus' chambers (near the fireplace of the house) and spent one lovely night on his warm bed beneath the roaring flames.
The next morning, head on his chest, Hermione wondered if she should return those silly decorations to Hogwarts after all.
She asked Severus about it too.
He simply huffed and planted a kiss on her head and reminded her of how cold it was outside.
Well that was all the convincing she needed.
The end!
A/N: Enjoy! Happy almost holidays!