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Severus watched the Prewett brothers trade crowns as the snow slowly stopped falling. The Oak King’s crown once more grew lush and green, the acorns green and brown instead of only dry brown. The Holly King’s wreath of waxy holly leaves lost its sheen and berries tumbled off Gideon’s shoulders as he moved, the swag around his waist withered and fell away.
“But, didn’t you just…?” Severus visibly tried to recall the myth of the Holly King and the Oak King as the two seemed to change places.
“We often like to play at the darker part of the story, Snape,” Fabian said. He reached up and straightened his oak-leaf-and-acorn crown with a laugh. Whoever wins the battle, the seasons progress apace. This year, Gideon won the battle, but I win the war, as I should at this time of year.”
“Wouldn’t do for us to let the Fates dictate everything, eh?” Gideon laughed. “My time as Holly King’s over for now, and the Spring and the Oak will slowly gain strength.”
“So…” Severus felt confused, only his hand on Moony’s head a touchstone of reality. “This happens all the time?” he finally asked.
Fabian shook his head. “Oh, no. No. There’s some what take the whole battle idea to heights of idiocy. We Prewetts are made of sterner stuff and would rather sit up and get a Firewhisky at the end than try to find our scattered pieces.” Moony nodded with difficulty, agreeing.
“I am sorry that Moony got caught up in the whole seasonal change thing, Snape,” Gideon said. “When we meet, things like that can happen. He’ll be right as rain once we’ve caught our ride and gone our separate ways.”
Currycombe stepped forward, his large wings lazily flapping behind him. Severus didn’t feel a breeze, attributing that to fairy magic. “So, who are you in all this?” Severus asked, arms crossed over his chest. Moony sat at his side, tongue lolling out—the wolf equivalent of laughter.
The former Porlock spread his wings and a golden glow emanated from them, lighting the early morning. “I’m called the Sugar Plum Fairy in your world, but Currycombe is my actual name. My sister refused to step foot in your world this season after some fool caught her last year and kept her in a jar! Kept saying some about someone named Tinkerbell.” Currycombe shook his head and sighed. “I was the only one that never wore the wings, so I was volunteered by my mother and the big man,” he pointed up toward the sleigh on the stable roof, “said ‘come along’.”
“You are definitely not the formalized idea of the Sugar Plum Fairy,” Severus said with grudging admiration. He bit his lip as Moony’s jaws snapped together. “Not that too many will see or even complain.” He put his hand on Moony’s head, scratching behind his ears and earning a thumping tail.
“Well, I’m allowed to give a gift to those who appreciate us, so, what would you like, Severus Snape?” Currycombe asked. The Prewett brothers stilled and stared; Severus assumed it was because he didn’t seem the ‘Christmasy’ type.
“There’s not much to want, but…” Being a Slytherin, Severus knew not to throw away a chance without thinking it through. So, he thought quickly. “I’d like to be an Animagus, so that Moony and I may run together.” Severus kept his hand on Moony’s head, fingers as still as the air had become. Moony lifted his head under Severus’ hand.
Currycombe’s wings stopped flapping and folded themselves across his back as he stepped forward, a glow beginning to seep from his fingertips. “That’s an admirable wish, Severus Snape. The kind that the Sugar Plum Fairy was made…to…grant!” Currycombe’s hands touched both of Severus’ cheeks and the world turned golden.