AN: I wrote this story when I was in desperate need of some Christmas spirit. I've wanted to do a tribute to Maggie Smith for months, so this is what I came up with. I will try to post every day so this is done during the Christmas season, though no promises!
Thank you for all the support! It is very deeply appreciated!
Severus despised Christmas because it was too cheerful.
Granted, there were reasons to despise Christmas other than the forced smiles on everyone's faces. The music gave him a splitting migraine. How one could find music about snow engaging enough to listen to all day was beyond him. Then there was the fact that they played every song at least two hundred times a day. How many renditions of "Last Christmas" were necessary to get into the holiday spirit? No, the music was inane, obnoxious, and made him want to destroy his eardrums.
Then there were the decorations. For some reason, everyone had to have a live Christmas tree put up in every store. The pine needles dried too quickly and inevitably got stuck onto his robes. Also, the smiling Santas and snowmen were enough to make him snarl. There was no reason to be so happy about a holiday where everyone received a present except him. When he was at Hogwarts, people gave him presents because they were forced to do so, and many times they were books he'd already read several times. Now, only Minerva gave him a present. While her gifts were thoughtful, it didn't change the fact that he spent most of the holiday season alone. No, Christmas decorations were only a mockery of the things he never had in life and never would have.
Don't get him started on eggnog lattes! How anyone could drink that concoction was beyond him. Yet Minerva insisted upon going to America, buying them both a cup, and taking it to their Thursday tea time. Despite his pleas for black tea, he would be stuck drinking those charred sugar mixtures until his birthday.
Yet nothing compared to her yearly insistence that he attend the Hogwarts Holiday Ball.
"You must come, Severus," Minerva leaned back in a leather chair before taking a sip of her latte.
"No," he scowled before crossing his legs, enjoying the firmness of his black suede sofa. "I am quite comfortable giving myself the gift of peace on earth and solitude this Christmas."
"Your gift to yourself involves sulking all night and drinking far too much Firewhiskey." She straightened her hat with her right hand.
"I don't get drunk anymore."
Minerva pursed her lips.
"I do not get drunk as much or as often as I once did," he answered.
"Perhaps you don't get as drunk as much or as often as you used to, but you spend all of Christmas sulking."
"I don't spend Christmas sulking," Severus scowled. "Rather, I meditate on how fortunate I am not to endure screeching, out-of-tune violins and idiotic chatter."
"You also 'meditate' on how nobody other than me has given you a gift in years. Then you bemoan how horrendous the holidays are, although you take no steps to make them a joyful occasion. It's the whole 'woe is me' schtick, only I will call you out on it."
"You make it sound like I spend half the evening brooding."
"Sulking, meditating, brooding—it's all the same." Minerva crossed her legs. "Every year you give yourself the gift of a pity party for Christmas, reveling in your loneliness, complaining that your life is terrible, all while doing nothing about it."
"My life is wonderful," Severus argued. "I have my freedom, my solitude, my apothecary, and most importantly, my own house where I can expel overly nosy visitors."
"This may be a house, but it is no home." Minerva glanced around at the dark cream walls, the new emerald carpet, and the Potions Master of the Year Award on the fireplace mantle. "This is a mausoleum to how lonely you are. I mean, there are no pictures, no decorations, and no sense that anyone lives here aside from you."
"Given that I am the only one who lives here, that seems quite appropriate." Severus took a sip of his eggnog latte and winced. How could something so horrendous still be somewhat addicting?
"You are lonely."
"I am not."
"Don't lie to me. I can see it in your eyes. You are lonely and dread the idea of spending the holidays alone."
"I'm not lonely. In fact, I am perfectly content with life."
"You are anything but content with your life."
"You're correct," he set his latte on the oaken coffee table and leaned towards her. "I am irritated with the direction it has taken in the last half hour."
"I am irritated with the direction your life has taken too," Minerva admitted. "I am irritated that you can't see how much more wonderful your life would be if you would allow someone to make you happy."
Severus suppressed a groan. He swore she'd been spending too much time with Dumbledore's portrait. Both of them believed that the second mistletoe appeared everyone needed to kiss. Romance was another reason to hate the holidays.
"I fear I'll have to take matters into my own hands." She sat up straighter.
"How?" He growled.
"I am throwing a Christmas ball this Christmas Eve for the faculty of Hogwarts, along with a few of my close friends."
"How close are these friends?"
She shrugged. "They are people I know through my connections at several universities, a few people from the Order, some employees at the Ministry." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "People I share coffee and tea with."
He scowled. Now he knew she'd been spending too much time with the old man's portrait. Nobody could use tea time as a weapon quite the way they could.
"Meaning you are invited as a guest of honor." She winked.
"Sadly I must decline," Severus crossed his right leg over his left. "I must attend to my brewing that day."
"Who would want you to brew on Christmas Eve?
"You," he folded his hands. "Unless you do not want your Pepperup potions on time."
She set her latte down on the silver lampstand beside her. "I can get Slughorn to brew a batch for me."
"We both know his are of poorer quality than mine."
"True, but I'll make do if I cut off my contract with you to brew the potions for Hogwarts."
"Excuse me?"
"Yes, the Board of Governors is looking over the budget soon. While we may have a surplus, I know that won't always be the case. Certain contracts may need to be cut."
Severus' eyes grew.
"If you do not attend this ball," she began picking at the dirt under her fingernails, "I will cut off our association."
"You wouldn't dare," he snapped.
"I can," she shifted her eyes to him, "And I will."
"That's extortion."
"That word sounds so harsh. I prefer to call it creative negotiation."
He ground his teeth together and made a fist.
"If you do not attend this ball, then I am reconsidering our contract." She took a sip of her latte.
He glared at her. From the look in her eyes, he could tell she was serious about this whole thing. She would take any measure in her quest to find him his true love.
Was it possible to loathe and love one's best friend at the same time?
"Fine," he growled. "I will attend your ball, if only to prove that no woman would ever desire to be my partner."
"I knew you'd see things my way." There was a spark in her eyes. "The ball begins at six in the evening on Christmas Eve. I expect you to be there on time."
"What if I develop a flu?"
She locked eyes with him. "Then you'd better hope a healer can verify your story."
His snarl deepened.
"You'll see," her eyes lit up. "It will be quite fun."
"For who?" He ground out.
"You, of course," her lips curled upwards. "I think you'll find there are many eligible bachelorettes who would love to date a wealthy, snarky, and kind potions master."
"I am not kind."
"You are to me."
"I'm beginning to reconsider my kindness towards you." He took a sip of his latte.
"That wouldn't be in your best interests," Minerva looked around the room again. "Merlin knows someone needs to step in and care for you. Left to your own devices, you could go weeks without speaking to anyone."
"You make that sound like it's a horrendous thing."
"It would be if you forgot how to use the English language because you had no social interaction with anyone."
"I have my books."
"Who would ensure you eat a healthy diet? If I didn't visit so often, I swear you wouldn't eat at all."
"Are we finished yet?" He took another sip of his eggnog latte, which was getting better with every sip. What the hell was he turning into if he found this thing tolerable on any level?
"Not quite," she sat up straighter. "This is going to be a masquerade ball. Everyone will be wearing a mask. This will encourage everyone's personalities to show through."
"In other words, I'll remain as unattractive as usual."
"No, you'll be free to express yourself."
"By doing what you call sulking?"
"By acting like a reasonably decent human being," her voice was firmer.
He exhaled.
"I know you don't think this will be a pleasant or valuable experience…"
"That is putting it mildly."
She was unfazed. "But if you give this ball a chance, I think you'll find you quite enjoy it."
"That remains to be determined."
"So it does," Minerva looked at the clock above the fireplace. "Sadly, I must go to a meeting soon. Remember, six o'clock on Christmas Eve. The party will go until one in the morning."
"Why that late?"
"Because." Minerva stood. "All the magic happens at midnight."
Severus rolled his eyes. Unless one was brewing a room darkening potion, which needed to be stirred twenty times at the stroke of twelve AM, midnight was no more special than any other time of the night.
"Enjoy your eggnog latte," she concluded.
"I won't," he glared at the cup as if it were a vomit-flavored jellybean. "I do not enjoy revolting drinks. The second you leave, I will toss it."
"No, you won't," she smiled. "You'll pretend to hate it, all the while enjoying it."
He picked it up and took a sip.
"Goodbye, Severus." Minerva strolled to the fireplace. After picking up the floo powder, tossing it into the fireplace, and calling out "Hogwarts," she disappeared.
Severus' muscles tensed as he stared at the eggnog latte. If he were a wiser man, he'd throw the drink away. The whole thing was as disgusting as the holiday it was intended to celebrate.
Then again, drinks should never go to waste, especially if they were strangely addicting. Minerva would never know he finished it. Why not drink it and claim he hated it or threw it away?
He took another gulp, ignoring how silent the room was and how there was a nagging sense that someone sharing Christmas with someone would not be completely abhorrent.