Secret Snarry Swap: FIC: Secret Santa Severus Snape Title: Secret Santa Severus Snape Author:MelindaGhost Other pairings/threesome: none Rating: Teen Word count: 10k Content/Warning(s): Christmas, Secret Santa, Oblivious Severus Snape, Christmas Market Prompter/Prompt: No. 42 from dandelionconstellation: Snape has no clue what to get Harry for the annual teacher’s Secret Santa gift swap Summary: The annual staff secret santa gift swap has been a tradition since before Severus Snape has joined the staff. He has never had problems figuring out what to gift his assigned colleague, but when he is assigned to play Santa for new hire Harry Potter, he is at a loss for ideas. A/N: I love all things Christmas, so this prompt was a heaven sent. Thank you to the mods for this fest and to Coconutice22 for helping me with this story. I hope it can bring some Christmas cheer to you all! <3
It's the first day of December and Severus wakes up with a headache. From midnight on, his night has been interrupted by the jingle of bells rushing through the castle, finding their designated place where they would remain until after the new year.
He yawns and he stretches, and the tag on his nightshirt itches against his side. Then he sighs; his reluctance to get up is greatly increased by today's date. A glance at his night table reveals his worst suspicions. Next to the fresh glass of water that he immediately chugs down his dry throat is a note from Minerva inviting him to the annual holidays staff meeting.
He has half a mind to throw it into the flames when he moves through his living room into the kitchen, but he knows pretending not to know will not get him out of it. He will have to sit there, draw a name from the blasted hat and pretend to be interested in the Christmas preparations. And it will be much less embarrassing if he’s not physically dragged into the room by an old witch who shouldn't have the strength to move him.
The students, however, do have the strength to move him. Mostly straight to the edge of insanity. A total of three students dare to come into his classroom wearing antler headbands with bells attached to them. Apparently, it isn't enough that Severus is plagued with the incessant ringing whenever he steps outside of his rooms. (It has taken a lot of work on his side, but he eventually made Minerva see that any noisy decorations inside of his parts of the castle would turn him into a monster. He is sure she acquiesced more for the students' sake than for his own, but he was glad nonetheless.)
Needless to say, his classes pass by excruciatingly slow. Twice does Severus have to deal with students nearly blowing up the entire castle because they are too busy chatting about their holiday plans. Expecting them to pay attention to how many lacewing flies they are dropping into their cauldrons is apparently giving the dunderheads too much credit.
Severus' headache doesn’t calm down until after classes finish for the day when he has a few blissfully jingle-free hours of reading (students' essays, which aren't as good as a book, but better than nothing) and a finger of the best bourbon his salary can afford. Sadly, the respite is eventually broken by his rumbling stomach and he sighs, emptying his glass in one swallow, before heading to dinner.
~-~-~-~-~-~
When he enters the staff lounge after dinner, he is greeted by much more excited and chirping sounds than he expects on a Thursday evening. But then his eyes swipe over the room, stopping at the large punch bowl Minerva insisted on putting out every year and it all makes sense.
Before he can even make his way over to it, Minerva is by his side handing him his favourite mug filled with the red liquid. Severus' only sign of appreciation is that he immediately takes a large sip from it. But it seems to be enough, for Minerva nods at him and then swiftly moves to the head of the table.
"Now that we are all here," she starts, sending a twinkle Severus' way that makes him frown and his stomach constrict; it reminds him too much of Albus.
He settles into his customary chair and looks her way, pretending to be interested in the proceedings. In reality, he is so little engaged in them that Severus even notices when Professor Potter settles down in the chair opposite him.
Minerva goes on about Hogsmeade weekends and special Christmas dinners on Christmas Eve, as well as on the last day before the majority of students leave them to spend the holidays with their families. Most of the time, Severus' eyes roll to the side to contemplate the profile he had been startled to discover was rather more chiselled than he remembered from before the war.
He is so busy with his studies that he almost jumps out of his chair when Minerva suddenly loudly claps her hands together, and with a look of mischievous glee announces that it's time for the draw.
Filius, who sits on a stack of books to his right, excitedly slaps his hands against Severus' arm before he remembers who sits next to him. Then with an apologetic glance and a slightly higher voice than usual, he says, "Sorry, Severus. The holiday cheer gets away with us all, doesn't it?"
"Indeed."
Severus' raised eyebrow expresses his doubts about that statement, and, out of the corner of his eyes, he can see a Potter's mouth twitch. He snaps his head towards the man and glowers. Potter's grin doesn't fade.
"Now, remember, the hat is charmed so that neither of you can draw their own names, otherwise it is completely at random," Minerva smiles, then more quietly adds, "So don't come complaining to me if you'd rather have someone else."
Severus huffs; no, he wouldn't try that again.
The hat, finally a completely ordinary one (one can only listen to the Sorting Hat sing so many Christmas songs), makes its zigzag way towards Severus. Harry smiles as he hands it to him; Severus deigns himself to nod at the man. Without looking he plunges his hand inside, grabs the first slip of paper he finds and then hands it over to Filius in one swift motion. When he glances down and unfolds it he doesn't pause and he doesn't make a face, but it takes some effort. Just his luck, he thinks ruefully.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"So, what will you gift the boy?"
Severus hasn't heard Minerva approach, but decades of spy experience have gifted him with the ability to keep a straight face come what may.
He raises an eyebrow at his arguably most annoying colleague, after Potter, of course.
"I don't know what you mean, but you shall not bait me into telling you whose name that blasted hat gave me."
"Don't be a Scrooge, Severus," Minerva chides him and Severus snorts, his eyes trailing back to the man in question. He could hardly call Potter Tiny Tim. If he were this would be all too easy, but what can one Severus Snape possibly give someone like Harry Potter? The man has everything.
"You know, if you stare at the boy some more, the whole room might know in the next five to ten minutes."
The only sign that he has heard her is the slight roll of his eyes. Minerva stands by his side for another minute or two but eventually makes her way over to the punch bowl. Severus allows himself the tiniest of smirks at this momentary victory. Then green eyes meet his and a frown comes over that face. Before Potter has a chance to approach him, Severus makes his exit. He still has some more essays to read.
Saturday, December Third
The weekend is always thought to be a quiet respite; a couple of days off to recuperate one's spirit and keep employees from quitting their jobs entirely. At a boarding school that cannot be the case. Nevertheless, Severus settles into his chair at the Head Table tolerably hopeful for a few quieter days than before. The students are all too busy with themselves to bother him much.
His good mood lasts until he sees that the only option for breakfast that morning seems to be festive porridge. Severus' nose scrunches up on its own accord as he pulls a bowl of sugar to himself and eyes the cinnamon warily.
To distract himself from the healthy taste of his meal, Severus lets his thoughts wander away. The Secret Santa thing was still a mystery to him. He had spent quite a bit of time over the last two days thinking about what Potter could possibly want, but all that came to mind was either too cheap (and he doesn't even know what chocolate Potter likes), or way out of his budget and never going to happen (he has spent too much of his life protecting Potter to get him the newest, bristle adorned, death trap, thank you very much).
"Ew, yuck."
For a second, Severus thinks that his musings have brought forward Potter's voice, but when he turns his head the real Potter pulls out the chair right next to him. Slowly, Severus chews the rest of his mouthful, swallowing it down with a blank face. Then he raises his eyebrows at the other professor.
"You are up early."
Not that Severus knows when Potter usually blesses them with his presence in the morning. It's just that the mess on the man's head is even more unruly and he seems barely able to keep his eyes open.
Potter doesn't seem to think there is anything strange about his appearance, or the fact that he chose the seat right next to the sour Potions Master even though half of the seats were still available. He just sends him a blinding smile, that has a curious effect with his eyes almost squinted closed. Then he takes a spoonful of his porridge, grimaces and pulls the cinnamon as well as the sugar bowl to him. Severus has to hide a little smirk.
"I tried," another one of those smiles, "seize the day and all that."
Severus hums in a neutral tone, wondering what Potter would do with his "free" day. He doesn't have to wait long until he gets an answer.
"Actually, I was hoping to catch you down here."
Severus has his spoon halfway to his mouth, but gladly takes the opportunity to place it back into the bowl and push it away from him. Interested, he leans forward a little.
"Oh?" he asks. Just because he wants to know what Potter could possibly want from him, doesn't mean he has to make it easy for him.
Potter raises an eyebrow of his own, but it lacks the proper elegance so Severus remains unimpressed. After a while, Potter redirects his gaze to his food.
"Yes, I was wondering if you could come by my office today. I had a few ideas that I wanted to discuss with you."
"You do know I am not the headmaster of this school anymore? Minerva would be a much more appropriate and helpful source, I assure you."
Perhaps Severus imagines it, but Potter's cheeks have a slight pink hue to them.
"I have already talked with the Headmistress and she says it's a good idea, but I was hoping you could be interested in helping me refine it. Maybe, if you would be up for that, you could even be involved in the whole thing."
Well, now Severus' curiosity was well and truly piqued. Of course, Potter would get the official approval for whatever it was he wanted Severus to do for him before even asking him. He would have chided him for it, except that when he opens his mouth he finds himself agreeing to meet with Potter instead. And now he is just as big a fool for signing himself up for a mystery mission. However, he thinks to himself, this might just be the thing that he needs to find out more about Potter so he can figure out what to get him for Christmas.
~-~-~-~-~-~
He only manages to brew and decanter one batch of Pepperup Potion before his curiosity gets the better of him.
Potter, as promised, is in his office. It's with a not inconsiderable amount of surprise that Severus realises he hasn't been in here since Potter took over. There are no longer floating creatures in tanks, or ominously rattling chests decorating the place. Rather, there are maps and bookshelves on the walls and various small trinkets strewn all over the place.
Potter is sitting at his desk, gnawing at his bottom lip while scribbling on a piece of parchment. At Severus' entrance, however, he quickly pushes the offensive scroll aside and stands up to invite Severus to take a seat. There is a Sneakoscope on Potter's desk, but it remains silent as Severus sits down in front of it. Perhaps it's broken.
"A bad essay?" Severus cannot help but ask.
Potter's look is coy as he sighs and nods. "Sometimes, I feel a deep need to send you and all of my other former professors a ten foot apology letter. You were always right: we were dunderheads."
Severus resists the urge to question Potter's use of past tense, and instead opts to say, "Flattery will get you nowhere."
Potter looks confused for a little until he apparently remembers that there is a reason Severus is here in his office, one that Severus would still like to be informed of.
"Right, right. I'm sorry. I asked you to meet me so I could discuss the possibility of another duelling club with you."
Severus' surprise must come across as doubt because Potter immediately starts defending his idea.
"I know it doesn't seem like an important thing, and maybe it's not technically all that important anymore, but it would be a great idea to get the children more interested in defence. Plus, they could do with a few more extracurricular activities. Oh, and we could even incorporate some potions into this. I know at the Auror Academy they use throwing potions all the time and–"
"Potter," Severus interrupts him with just the slightest tone of amusement in his voice, "don't forget to breathe."
Potter looks at him with a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck and messing up his hair some more. It's a gesture Severus has seen him do since he was a boy, and yet it looks distinctly different on him now.
"I don't think it is a bad idea."
The man's face lights up and Severus almost immediately regrets saying anything as Potter launches into another monologue.
Chapter Two: Second Week of Advent
Tuesday, December Sixth
The impromptu meeting with Potter last weekend ended up costing him an hour of his time. Severus grumbles over his tea and the morning paper he carried down to his classroom today. An hour and yet he still isn't any closer to figuring out what he should give the brat for Christmas.
There was a leaflet attached to the Prophet this morning but that had specifically presented gift ideas for her. Severus briefly glanced over it, but only saw a gigantic, over-priced candy cane before banishing it. Why candy canes now cater only to the female population, or why anyone would want one that big is beyond him. They would be very impractical and uncomfortable to eat, he is sure.
Severus glances at the clock in his office, and with a dramatic sigh, flings the paper closed. With a wave of his wand he sends it to his rooms so he can complete the crossword in the evening. Then, taking the last sip of his tea, he banishes that as well and stands to let the first dunderheads of the day scramble inside.
Greeting the children at the door, unfortunately, doesn't have the same effect it has any other season; instead of shushing their conversations upon witnessing his scowl, they merely squeeze past him, chattering on as if nothing happened. Severus waits until the hallway is empty, taking a couple of (not so) calming breaths, and then turns around.
"Why are you not at your seat, Mr Werth?"
Niklas Werth, a first-year Hufflepuff, looks at him with wide eyes, then takes something from his pocket and holds it out for Severus to take.
"It's Saint Nicholas Day, Professor," the boy says as if that explains it. "And my parents know that it's not widely celebrated here, so they send me enough to share with all."
Severus eyes the boy sceptically, still not sure what he is on about, then accepts the gift. It's a small Lindt Santa. He eyes the rest of the students, most of them have a similar one in their hands, and going by the state of their mouths it's chocolate.
A nod of thanks to the boy has the child's cheeks redden in innocent delight. With a wide grin, Werth takes his seat, and with an equally long sigh Severus returns to the front of the room.
~-~-~-~-~-~
The chocolate remains in Severus' cloak pocket until dinner, when Potter's joyful expression reminds him of it.
The crackle of the foil shouldn't have been audible in a hall full of hundreds of children, but Potter is sitting right next to him again, and the sound reaches his ears anyway.
Potter is looking at him when he plops the little chocolate into his mouth. Something inside Severus stirs, and he frowns.
"Dessert before dinner, Potter? As always a reckless example to the student body." Severus' tone was supposed to be admonishing, perhaps a little mean, but Potter only lets out a tiny laugh.
"Those children have been eating chocolate all day. It's a wonder I have held out this long. And It's one of my favourites when it comes to chocolate."
Severus hums noncommittally and turns back to the mash on his plate. He swirls it through the gravy and then has to hold back a sigh as he closes his lips around the fork. There is just something about mashed potatoes and gravy.
Potter also grabs a hold of his cutlery, and Severus thinks the conversation is over for the day. But then Potter continues around a mouthful of meat.
"You know, I think it's a sweet tradition, no pun intended," he curls his lips and taps his head, "to give the children some chocolate today. Did you know that's a German tradition?
"On the night of the 6th children put a boot outside and then in the morning it is magically filled with all kinds of treats. I think we should do that here, too."
Severus chews and swallows, refusing to answer Potter with the same bad table manners that he addresses Severus with. "Yes, because British children are chronically under-sugared. If any such tradition comes to pass I will hand in my notice immediately."
Once again, Severus expects Potter to start arguing with him, but he only grins and agrees it would be hell to teach the children like that.
He waits until he is sure Potter is wholly concentrated on his food to fish the little chocolate out of his pocket. He wants to know what is so special about it. He is sure he can get away with it when Potter starts chatting with the Muggle Studies professor, but the crinkle of the golden wrapper draws Potter's eye.
Gentle amusement.
Thursday, December Eighth
The only sound in his dungeon office is the big, black grandfather clock that Albus gifted him once (which is the only reason it still stands there), and the scratching of Severus' own quill. Usually, this is calming, but since the beginning of the month Severus has been forcibly exposed to so much noise that it somehow feels wrong to sit in such silence now.
When he finds himself reading the same sentence three times without retaining any of its information, Severus sighs and admits that it's of no use. Bleakly, he stacks up the essays he can't seem to focus on and heads up to the staff lounge.
When he opens the door, the distinct smell of Filius' cigars hits Severus' nose and he feels his nose scrunch up and his brows furrow deeply.
"I've been almost non-stop casting air-purification charms, but they only help so much."
Severus almost jumps out of his skin when Potter addresses him. His colleague apparently had the same idea as him. Countless rolls of parchment lie all around the man, and his general look of despair tells Severus he's been up here for quite a while.
Casting his own purification spell, Severus moves to sit opposite Potter. He cannot help but clack his tongue at the general chaos around the Defence professor. Potter blushes a pretty pink and quickly makes some room for Severus' own rolls.
"Sorry," Potter says as he organises his rolls into two neat stacks. "Got a bit carried away."
Severus looks at his red cheeks, then down onto the table which is similarly covered in red streaks. He makes his own piles, avoiding dripping them in Potter's curious choice of an ink well.
"Yes, I can tell."
Then he pointedly takes his self-inking quill from his pocket, activates it and corrects a spelling mistake that Ms Norwood makes in every single essay.
Severus can hear Potter sigh and murmur a cleaning spell and the red in his periphery vanishes.
"My parents should have made 'Messy' my middle name," comes an uncharacteristically self-conscious remark. Severus would really rather not think about Potter's parents at all, thank you, and so he once again just hums in response.
Potter seems to take the hint, and instead of further conversation from the man, Severus only hears his other colleagues in the background and the rustling of the Prophet that Potter lays down over his work space.
Severus allows himself a tiny private smile. That is by far the best use for that drivel (at least if you're done with the crosswords.)
It's remarkably comfortable.
Chapter Three: Third Week of Advent
Monday, December Twelfth
The good thing about Mondays is that Severus' teaching day is short; with no afternoon classes, Severus has more than enough time for actual brewing. The bad thing about Mondays is that they usually don't care about your schedule; they're hell bent on making it a stressful day, either way.
Severus eyes his crystal stirring rod. The poor, collector child inside of him doesn't want to use it, the less poor adult who had to pay for it does. In the end, he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering about being stupid, while moving to grab a simple glass rod instead.
Twice clockwise, thrice anti-clockwise, then wait ten seconds and repeat four times.
Severus knows all recipes he regularly brews by heart, there is never even an ounce of hesitation in his movements. His fingers grope, graze and grasp all the right ingredients at precisely the right time. When unexpected external distraction is added into his perfect mixture, however, his hands are as likely to slip as that of a common third year.
The alarm sound of his Floo tears Severus out of his potion-focused state and his hand relaxes just three seconds too early. Immediately, the tincture begins to form aggressive bubbles of boiling hot liquid and Severus scrambles for his wand to douse the flame and vanish the mess, before he hurries into his living rooms.
Poppy's head is illuminated in the green flames of his fireplace and before Severus can ask what's wrong, she starts to accost him.
"Severus, there you are. It's Harry." He hardly has enough time to digest that piece of information properly before Poppy goes on, "Now, don't worry, he is fine. I just need you to brew a few extra potions."
With pursed lips, Severus watches a small piece of paper dance through the flames; Poppy's head is already gone when he catches it. Silently fuming, what has the brat gotten himself into now, and why didn't she tell me, he peruses it.
Recoloratis potion, shrinking solution and a salve against stretch marks.
Severus' eyebrows are barely distinguishable from his hairline at this point. But his shoulders fall back into relaxation. Whatever affliction the Defence professor has caught, it certainly isn't a deadly one.
~-~-~-~-~-~
Potter looks positively ridiculous when Severus enters the infirmary.
For the first time in his life, Severus has to look up to look at the man's face, and it takes all of his self-control not to laugh when he looks into eyes as green as the surrounding skin.
"I did not know Minerva hired an ogre. Welcome to the staff, Mr…?"
Severus offers Potter his hand and the man shakes it in a firm grip. Severus almost expects his own hand to come away green, but it's still a pale alabaster splattered with fresh potion stains when he pulls away.
Potter grins at him sheepishly, bringing his now brutish hand up to scratch behind an oddly shaped ear.
"If only I had known you were funny when I was a student."
Severus smirks, unable to pass up another opportunity to ridicule Potter, even if the other doesn't seem to be much affected by his quips anymore.
"I certainly never tried to hide it, perhaps with your new stature your brain grew as well?"
At that moment Poppy emerges from her office.
"Ah, Severus, you brought the potions. And I see you are already harassing my patient." Her eyes are gentle and she pats his shoulder as she takes the bottles from him, uncorking and measuring out the first dose.
Potter swallows his concoctions without hesitation or pausing to ask what they are. It's a move that irritates and pleases Severus in equal measures. Soon, Severus can watch as Potter shrinks back to his normal proportions and his skin takes on a less swampy tone.
"Oh, thank you so much, Severus. Godric, it feels good to be back in my own hide," the man sighs.
Despite having been colleagues for a while, Severus still isn't used to Potter referring to him by first name. Possibly, because they hardly converse regularly enough to hear it often.
"Mhm, and just how did you manage to transform yourself into a green menace?"
"Ah, well…" Potter starts, clearly unwilling to indulge that piece of information, but luckily for Severus, Poppy temporarily forgets about patient confidentiality.
"Got himself hexed by a student because his glasses fogged up and he couldn't see the spell coming, didn't you?"
Potter's smile is pained. "Yes, thank you, Poppy… Don't you have some other poor patients to take care of?"
The corner of Severus' mouth twitches as he watches the matron restrain from cuffing one of her most frequent patients for his cheek. Instead she just clicks her tongue and wags her finger at him. "Just you see what happens the next time you end up here."
"And it better not be next week," she adds, her tone light. Then she is off to the far corner where a fifth year Ravenclaw student has just woken up.
Potter looks after her, shakes his head and then looks at Severus with a coy smile. "I am sure that if I should end up here again next week, you will just come and save me, again."
Severus snorts.
"Old habits die hard."
He nods once at Potter and then turns on his heels. Before he can leave, however, Potter addresses him once more.
"Wait! Uhm, I really want to say thank you, you know? And… maybe, if you want… that is… There is a Christmas Market opening this Friday and I wanted to ask if you would like to accompany me? I could treat you to some food as a proper thanks?"
Severus is sure his brain is short-circuiting. There are a thousand reasons why he should say no to an invitation like this, and yet none of them want to roll off his tongue. So all he says is "yes".
Tuesday, December Thirteenth
He pours a splash of milk into his cup and then accepts three sugars from Minerva. Their monthly teas are a tradition they have been practicing for years. Sometimes, they were the only thing that got Severus through a rough week of teaching; although they usually consisted of more brandy than tea whenever that was the case.
But since today is Tuesday, and Severus' spirits are still rather high from witnessing Potter's ogre impression the day before, there is no need for any pick-me-ups in his cup.
Minerva eyes him with a smile. A clear sign that something is wrong. They are friends, and they are surprisingly content in each other's company, but neither of them is the smiling sort of person.
"How has the holiday season been treating you so far, Severus?"
Severus gingerly takes another biscuit from the offered plate. He puts it wholly in his mouth, then snorts. Minerva knows exactly how much Severus cannot stand the decorations at every corner, the sheer cheeriness of the whole student body, and especially not the omni-present jingling of bells.
"Mhmm, I think our Mr Grinch is just in need of some holiday romance? There is certainly enough mistletoe hanging over doorways," she says after a particularly long sip.
Severus doesn't bother giving her any sort of answer to that. Even if he were in the mood for a holiday romance, which he decidedly was not, there were hardly any possible paramours in Hogwarts. Almost all of the inhabitants are students, for Merlin's sake. If those twigs ever trapped him with one of them, he'd burn down the whole entire castle.
For a bit they just sit in silence, slurping on their teas and munching on shortbread. Eventually, Severus can see that Minerva is wringing for another topic.
"So, Severus, tell me how are things going with Harry?"
Severus, who is mid-sip when she pops the question, promptly chokes on his tea. There is not a doubt in his mind that his cheeks are glowing, but he can always blame that on almost dying. As soon as his coughing subsides, he sends her one of his meanest glares, but Minerva is unimpressed as always.
"I don't know what you mean, Minerva."
Minerva's grin is telling him that they both know exactly what she means, and that this was not, as he had first hoped, an attempt to change the topic.
"Oh, I was only referring to the staff Secret Santa celebration, I assure you."
Severus frowns, murmurs something about blasted presents and curiosity killed the cat, and then he calmly refills his cup and stuffs his mouth with two more shortbreads.
Friday, December Sixteenth
Potter attends breakfast early more often than not these days. Severus is unsure whether that doesn't bother him because the sight of a sleep-roused Potter is slightly more appealing than the brat's usual face, or if he himself just has too little energy in the morning to care.
It's at breakfast, too, that Potter informs him that his classes end at the same time as Severus' and suggests meeting at the front gate at 5 pm. Severus is left a little unsettled that Potter appears to know his schedule, but wisely decides not to comment on it.
When Potter faces away he cannot stop his face from falling into a contemplative mask. He also knows when Potter's classes end, but that must just be another one of those old habits. Got to keep an eye out for Potter lest he tries to get himself killed again.
~-~-~-~-~-~
Severus arrives at exactly 5 pm, expecting to have to wait at least another quarter of an hour until Potter shows up, only to find him already waiting.
Severus, of course, knows that this is not a date. Sure, a thank you would have been quite sufficient for the potions, but when is Harry Potter ever conventional? Still, Severus had chosen his clothes, and while not quite fretting, cared about his over all experience just a little bit more than usual. Potter, on the other hand, looks just as unkempt and carelessly put together as always.
As they walk towards the Apparition point, Severus cannot help but notice the lovely flush spreading over Potter's nose and cheeks, and as he listens more closely to Potter's chatter, he can even hear his teeth clink together rather harshly. Without even thinking about asking for permission, Severus draws his wand and casts a warming charm over Potter.
Potter looks perplexed at first, then slowly relaxes into the heat wrapping itself around him.
"Thank you, Severus. I really suck at warming charms."
Potter's eyes seem almost comically large and Severus just hums in response. He can feel a slight frost glaze over his face, and recasts his own charms, lest his red face should somehow be misinterpreted.
When Potter grabs his upper arm to side-along him to their destination Severus shouldn't be able to feel the heat of his skin seeping through layers of charms and clothing, but he imagines he does anyway. The warmth evaporates as the pull behind his navel makes Severus nauseous. Potter almost trips over his feet, but Severus catches his hand before it can slide off his arm.
"Oh, thank you."
He wants to give him a sarcastic answer, but something stops him. Severus swallows and takes a step forward, pulling Potter with him. Quietly, he murmurs "You're welcome."
They landed in a back alley of a stingy pub, but the second they get into the streets it's busy. Like fish caught in a current, they move. Further down the road and into the city centre. Potter clutching Severus' arm tighter and Severus' stomach flipping. He thinks it's due to stress. Severus can handle Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, but the bustling chaos here is completely different, and even though he can tell that most of these people are Muggles, he still finds he doesn't enjoy being crowded so close with so many strange people.
Oh, but it's worth it in the end, isn't it?
"Wow, it's so pretty," Potter says, voice laced with something Severus can't interpret. But he is right; there are lights shining everywhere. Every booth emanates a cosy atmosphere and there are even lights strung around arches over their heads. They twinkle brighter than the stars beyond them.
Severus looks back down to Potter's face. His eyes sparkle possibly even brighter than the string lights.
"Yes," Severus admits, "beautiful. I have never been to one of these."
For some reason Potter gets excited at the news. "Well, I'm honoured to be your first." If he catches the innuendo, Potter doesn't show it. His smile is all innocence and delight and Severus' stomach flips again. Perhaps he is hungry. Potter did promise him something to eat.
Potter very much stays attached to Severus' arm while they stroll on; it's almost necessary so as not to get lost. After a while, Severus has to adjust his charms so as not to overheat.
At some of the stands they find little presents to take home: Severus has some chocolate truffles for Minerva, and Harry picks up a set of esoteric oils for Miss Lovegood and Miss Brown. (Severus' surprise at that match must have been very tangible according to Potter's laughter.) One of the stands they peruse particularly catches Severus' attention. Not because of what they sell (some little crystalline figures; pretty, but not necessarily interesting to Severus), but because Potter seems very taken with them.
"Are you going to buy those?" Severus asks and Potter whips his head around as if he's been caught stealing. His eyes are wide and the cold seems to be getting to him again, as there is a significant sheen of red on his cheeks.
With an almost sad smile and utmost care, Potter puts the figures back down. Or one figurine, as it was two deer connected by a patch of grass and some mushrooms. "No," he sighs, "I don't think anyone on my list would like this."
Severus frowns. He almost tells him that it's okay to buy something for himself, before he realises that this is the perfect opportunity to solve his own problem. Perhaps no one on Potter's list has a taste for these, but someone on Severus' list clearly does. So he stays mum, catches another glance at the deer, and then lets Potter drag him away. A subtle notice-me-not will not cause any trouble among the Muggles, Severus decides.
When they finally settle for a food stand Severus' feet are starting to wish he stayed at home. All the standing and extremely slow walking (something Severus is entirely unfamiliar with) are taking a toll on them. But of course, there are no seats at the food stand and Severus finally comes to understand why they call them stands.
"There you go, a traditional German Bratwurst… and some chips."
Severus takes the sausage sandwich from Potter and they manage to find a small table to place their chips on.
"I hope you like mustard, I forgot to ask." Potter sounds genuinely worried and Severus raises an eyebrow.
"It's nothing I can't handle, I assure you. Since you seem to be an expert on all things German: do they always serve their sausages in a roll?"
Severus can tell that he has confused Potter, but then he seems to remember their conversation about St Nicholas Day.
"Oh, hardly an expert on German traditions. I just really like Christmas, you know? I do know they invented the Advent Calendar as well, though."
Part of Severus is impressed by Potter's extensive fund of fun facts, but really he shouldn't be surprised. Christmas is a celebration of love, after all. The boy's greatest strength is his love, Severus. Severus quickly wipes the recollection of Albus out of his mind.
He takes a bite of his sausage and the mustard burns on his tongue, but the flavour is unexpectedly good.
"What a relief," he continues after swallowing, "here I was, thinking you were secretly training to be a travel agent trying to sell me a trip to the most expensive hotel in Munich."
Potter cocks his head and chews on his own Bratwurst before saying, "I don't know, that doesn't sound too bad. I've never been and I don't think you'd be the worst bunkmate," Harry ends with a chuckle.
Severus' eyes widen in shock and he nearly chokes on a chip. Is Potter really flirting with him? Surely not. The boy must have just not realised what he was saying. A charged silence falls between them, only accentuated by the bustle of noise around them. At last, Potter clears his throat.
"I actually need the loo, I'll be back in a bit."
Severus nods. Their food is already gone and he stays still until Harry has vanished in the masses, before making his way over to the figurine stand. He's seen the line for the restrooms; he's got time.
Chapter Four: Fourth Week of Advent
Wednesday, December Twenty-First
It's the last evening before the majority of the students leave the castle to go celebrate the holidays with their families. As tradition will have it, the Great Hall is buzzing with excitement. The walls echo the mood and wild magical energy of its inhabitants. And yet, when everyone settles down for a huge Christmas feast, Severus can finally feel himself relax. Severus hasn't had a quiet moment since he and Potter returned to the castle on Friday. Students and colleagues alike were keeping him busy with requests, and that coupled with trying to escape another private tea session with Minerva had all been very tiring.
The chair on Severus' right is pulled out and in his peripheral he watches as Potter slumps down. Despite the last holiday rush clearly taking its toll on the Golden Boy turned man, he still looks like he's heading out for a photo shoot with Witch's Weekly. Dazzling Boy Hero Is Not A Boy Anymore – Wins Most Charming Smile For A Third Year In A Row.
"Ugh, I love Christmas and the students, but I am so glad they're leaving tomorrow."
Severus discreetly shakes his head to reorder his thoughts. Then he huffs in agreement. "I don't know about the first part, but I will certainly be happier without the brats around."
Potter laughs and takes a bite from his roasted chicken.
Their chat over the meal is pleasant and entirely unremarkable, and Severus is glad for it. After that one comment at the Christmas market, Severus had been a little worried that there would be an awkward distance between them. That Potter realised what he had suggested and, disgusted and scared that Severus might actually make an advance on him, would break off all contact: effective immediately. But the bomb Severus has expected doesn't seem to be ticking. Instead, Potter seems even more at ease around him, and they are being perfectly friendly to one another. (Well, slightly friendlier than Severus is to anyone else, at least.)
Severus tells himself that's exactly what he wants.
Everything is perfectly fine, as it should be until a small Ravenclaw girl fights her way over to the Head Table. Her little ringlets bob happily up and down and the colourful tree lights create pretty highlights on her dark skin. Severus knows Miss Rupkin is a seventh year student and therefore going to be graduating soon. His stomach knits itself together as she approaches Potter with a small box in her hands.
"Hello, professors," she smiles, even at Severus, but he only raises his eyebrow at her. Not in the least intimidated by him she reaches up to place the present straight in front of Potter's plate. The man, in his defence, looks as surprised as Severus feels disgusted.
"I know it is not necessarily the custom, but I have a present for you, if that's alright."
Severus sneer grows and his frown deepens at her tone, there is a teasing note in it that he doesn't like one bit. Potter only looks from her to the Headmistress who nods her okay with a curious look of her own. When Potter opens the present to peek inside, his whole face lights up, and something in Severus' heart gives. Because fuck it, he cannot pretend even to himself any longer. Because Potter isn't Potter anymore, he's Harry, and Severus wants to be the reason Harry's eyes shine like that.
But as Harry's smile widens and he assures the little Miss Rupkin that he loves his present, a sense of unease creeps through Severus' organs. All so suddenly he doubts that his present will bring forth any such declarations and a slight ball of shame settles deep in his stomach.
In an attempt to redirect his thoughts, or drown the unwelcome feelings, he shovels more potatoes on his plate and takes a big bite of his gravy-drowned Yorkshire puddings. Tomorrow, Severus thinks, tomorrow, I will go out and buy some more!
Saturday, December Twenty-Fourth
For years it's been the tradition to eat the Christmas Eve dinner in the staff room and so it is this year as well. The few remaining children are given the option to stay in their common rooms or visit each other's, and for the brave there is even the option to eat in the Great Hall where Filch insists on keeping an eye on them. Severus is still envious that Argus has somehow managed to trick Minerva into letting him escape the festivities, but then he remembers that the man has to mop the whole castle without magic and his envy subsides.
Minerva, as the reigning Headmistress, always sits at one end of the table. When Severus comes in she is already seated and, on hearing the door open, her gaze meets Severus'. Immediately, he knows there is no way he will spend the rest of the evening sitting with her. She has a look of trouble about her, and judging by the way her eyes crinkle on beholding him, it somehow involves his person.
Harry is also already seated, and as the newest hire, he sits at the opposite end of the table. With sure steps, Severus rushes over to his end and plops down next to the Defence professor who grins at him in response. Severus' mouth briefly curls up into an answering smirk and that earns him a dramatic eye roll and a chuckle. His stomach feels fuzzy, and Severus owns that perhaps he would have sat down on this side of the table even if Minerva hadn't scared him off.
Tearing his gaze away from the Saviour of the Wizarding World, Severus retrieves a perfectly wrapped box (he had even strung a bow around it, albeit sneering while doing so) and levitates it under the tree where an assortment of differently shaped and coloured parcels already lies, waiting to be torn open. Even after all of his last minute shopping, Severus is still not fully satisfied with his purchases. Going by size alone, however, he figures that if the individual contents don't make Harry happy, he can at least, perhaps, make up for it in quantity.
Dinner in itself is quite the same as on Wednesday, apart from the little improvement of no infatuated students forcing themselves on a certain sparkling eyed professor. It's nice, Severus has to admit, even when Pomona tells him that the anti-frost charms on greenhouse two have malfunctioned. He'll have to do an inspection of his ingredients tomorrow. Oh, well. It's not like he has any other Christmas Day commitments.
~-~-~-~-~-~
Minerva clears her throat and stands up.
"Since everyone seems to be through with their dinner, I propose we start with the gift exchange so certain people," she shot a smile at Hagrid and Filius, "can get on with their punch."
Harry chuckles next to him and lays his hand on Severus' arm. Severus' lips twitch in slight amusement. His own stomach is already pleasantly warmed by the two glasses of punch he drank with his dinner, and he fears if he drinks anymore he might do something stupid like cradle Harry's hand in his.
With a wave of Minerva's wand, the dishes disappear and are replaced by the big pile of gifts. At present, Severus is too comfortable to feel much excitement or apprehension. Perhaps, because he has already seen that Hagrid's box was tagged for someone else (there are only so many rock cakes a man can eat before he permanently loses his teeth), or perhaps because Harry has yet to let go.
"Sybill was so kind as to come up with a new way of deciding the order in which we open the presents."
Severus huffs, not sure that the sherry-loving lady can come up with any good ideas; Harry squeezes once in agreement. What even is the point of this if they all get a present anyway? Surely they could just start with anyone and go clockwise?
"Sybill, the crystal ball, if you please?"
Severus rolls his eyes and doesn't bother listening to whatever game rules Minerva is explaining, instead he swallows the last few sips of his punch and leans back into his chair, closing his eyes and just basking in the general warmth of the place.
Pomona is the first who is allowed to shake the ball, but the ball denies her to be the first to pick a present. Instead, it is Poppy's turn to tear into a neatly wrapped, cylindrical box. It's a wine that Aurora picked up during her travels through Italy in the summer. Sybill, to no one's surprise, gets a bottle of the finest Fino Sherry Spain has to offer, and Minerva opens a bag of catnip-infused pillows and shortbread.
Severus almost falls asleep until it is apparently his turn to ask the magic crystal ball (aren't all crystal balls magical? What utter nonsense, but he keeps his commentary to himself for once) whether he is allowed to open his present. Yes. A small envelope comes flying to him and he raises an eyebrow. Out of all the presents so far, this must certainly be the smallest, but he might still be in luck and find a train ticket (or possibly two) to get him out of this madhouse.
What he finds instead is a card from Minerva.
Dear Severus, </br> I wish you a happy Christmas. </br> And because I truly want you to be happy (not just this Christmas) </br> my gift to you is this piece of advice: </br> For the love of Godric, just ask him out on a date!</br>
Severus can feel his face grow warmer. Everywhere he looks he can see curious eyes watching him. Minerva silently toasts him. A nice friend she is, Severus thinks sarcastically. At last, he carefully refolds the card and exclaims that it's a voucher for Flourish and Blotts. There is a general murmur of "makes sense", and "boring", but they quickly move their attention to Harry who seems to be the next in line.
He pulls his hand back to shake the crystal ball and is readily granted permission. Severus doesn't let himself miss the touch.
"Oh, I get a big one," the man laughs as Severus' wrapped box floats towards Harry. He seems slightly uncomfortable now that all the attention is focused on him, but he bears it bravely.
Against all Severus' expectations, Harry opens the box slowly. First untying the bow, then picking at the tape. When he lifts the lid, he chuckles and quickly glances at Severus who does his best to look uninvolved. There is, of course, no use in denying he bought all of those things for their saviour, but until Harry sees the damning evidence he can at least pretend it was someone else.
"I have been quite spoiled, it seems."
"Come on Harry, yer don' have ter tease us so,' Hagrid lulls from the other end of the table and Minerva quickly agrees.
"Indeed, I'm sure we all want to know what your Secret Santa got you." Severus doesn't acknowledge her winking at him.
One by one, Harry pulls out all of the items in his box. A self-inking quill and spill proof ink jars (just in case he prefers to use his old quills), two boxes of those little Lindt chocolates Harry said were his favourite, a few bottles of anti-fog solution for his glasses (so he can always see spells coming), a book on spell theory focusing on elemental magic (to help with his warming charms), a full set of scarf, gloves and hat interwoven with the strongest warming charms Severus can produce (for the time being, until Harry can make use of the book), and lastly, nestled at the very bottom of the box, the figurine of the deers in the forest.
Harry's eyes are glittering suspiciously by the time he holds the little crystalline animals in his hands, and for a second Severus fears he has made a terrible mistake. But then Harry looks at him and his smile is radiant, the expression of joy and gratitude so breathtaking that all Severus could do is swallow and nod.
"Thank you, Severus," Harry says softly, and for the smallest of moments Severus thinks the tension between them is real – that Harry's feelings for him might at least be similar to his.
But then Rolanda slaps his arm and laughs about the sheer quantity and the eye contact is broken. With it the quiet confidence is lost, again.
~-~-~-~-~-~
This time he can see Minerva approach him and he lets her. At this point there is hardly anything she can say that she has not boldly (and not completely wrongfully) implied in her card.
"That was a cheap trick, Minerva. Finally, I have you buying my gift and all I get is a nonsensical card."
Minerva slurps from her glass, the loud noise marking her thoughts on the situation. Severus sighs and uncrosses his arms to accept his mug from her.
"At least the potion baubles on the tree were cute," she smirks.
Despite his best efforts, Severus' lips quirk at that.
"And don't you think I didn't notice that there was way too much Amortentia on that."
"Mhm, but don't forget the Felix, Severus."
Severus sips some punch and lets his gaze swipe over the room. This feels very much like the deja-vu it is. Harry is where they moved the punch bowl to, chatting to their Muggle Studies professor.
"I think I need more than a little luck," he murmurs after a while, but Minerva is already gone and he's alone in his corner.
Not for long, however, he has just managed to tear his eyes away from Harry, when the man himself comes to visit him in his solitary corner.
"Hey." His tone is soft and unsure, almost as if it's a question rather than a greeting.
"Good evening."
"It is so far, yeah. I want to thank you again for your gifts. They're perfect and you really didn't have to get me so many, and… but I love them! I don't want you to think that…"
As Harry loses himself in his rambles, Severus' eyes focus on his one dimple. He doesn't know how it's even possible to only have a dimple on one side of your face, but it's there. His fingers twitch with the desire to reach out and touch it, but instead he takes another swig of alcohol. Maybe, he thinks to himself, if he doesn't have liquid luck, liquid courage will do. It doesn't even have to be a date, he could just ask Harry for tea.
"I know the ch–"
"Would you like to have tea with me?"
Harry looks as surprised by his sudden outburst as Severus feels.
"Uhm, now?"
Severus swallows.
"Not ne–"
"No," Harry quickly interjects and Severus' stomach drops. Fuck Minerva and her unsolicited advice.
"I understand, good evening, Professor Potter."
But before he can slither his way out of the corner, Harry's hand wraps around his wrist.
"No, wait. I meant yes I would like to have tea with you. No, I don't want to wait for another time."
It's in Severus' disposition to be wary of people readily agreeing to and admitting that they want to spend time with him, but he's spent so many years watching this man, and he knows when Harry is sincere.
"Alright."
~-~-~-~-~-~
The walk to the dungeons feels both too short, and awkwardly long.
Severus' nerves are buzzing, and it doesn't make any sense. Even the Dark Lord had never worn him down as much as Harry Potter, who seems way too comfortable walking next to him, does. The man who has his box of gifts floating next to him, but who is, for some inexplicable reason, still cradling the figurine in his hands.
"Servata Caritate."
His door opens inwards so he steps inside to open the door for Harry and his flying parcel, and comes to a halt. Harry doesn't notice at first and knocks right into his side, the edges of his glasses pressing into his shoulder.
Severus' rooms are not how he left them. Candles, way too many for his modest rooms, are floating under the ceiling, casting ambient lighting over the whole room. The sort of lighting that makes Harry's blueish deer shine brightly. On his coffee table stands a large bottle of Severus' favourite brandy, two tumblers waiting to be filled, and what looks like some sort of tart.
"Wow," Harry says after readjusting his glasses. "Did you plan this?"
Severus isn't sure if it's hope or humour he detects in Harry's voice, but he answers truthfully anyway.
"No, but there wasn't actually a voucher in my card, and I have the feeling that breaking into my rooms is Minerva's true idea of a Christmas present."
Harry chuckles, and they are still standing so close together that his breath brushes over Severus' neck. Right over some of his still sensitive scar tissue. He suppresses a shudder, trying to take a step forward and get out of the way, only to be stopped by an invisible barrier.
"Is everything okay?"
No, nothing is okay. With a resigned expression Severus lifts his head and he hears the rustle of fabric as Harry raises his head as well.
"Oh…" Harry mumbles.
"Yes, oh." That was definitely not delight in Harry's voice and Severus is going to kill Minerva as soon as he can move again. Surely they can wait this out? The mistletoe cannot actually hold you long enough to starve you to death, can it?
Harry taps his shoulder and with a frown Severus looks back at the younger man's face. He's right in thinking that the other doesn't look happy about this at all. If anything, those green eyes radiate concern.
"So, knowing that you didn't plan this, I am guessing you weren't aware of this being here either?" Harry asks, gesturing to the blasted twigs above their heads.
Severus crosses his arms in a manner he knows is rather petulant, but this backstabbing is certainly enough to warrant it in his books.
"Obviously."
Harry squirms from one foot to the other, fingers squeezing so tightly that Severus' irritation momentarily gets replaced by a concern for Harry stabbing himself on a pair of antlers.
"I'm sorry," Harry finally sighs, "I think this is probably my fault."
His cheeks are a peachy pink and he shrugs, then lifts the figurine as if that answered all of the questions.
Severus blinks once, twice in confused silence.
"What?"
A slightly punctured hand comes up to scratch at Harry's neck.
"So… I think Minerva has noticed that I kind of like you?"
Severus isn't sure he is breathing, but he is pretty sure that he misunderstood what Harry has just said.
"What?" he croaks again.
"That's why I liked this so much." Again he waves the deer through the air. "They kind of remind me of our Patronuses."
That would explain why Harry looked so caught out when Severus had mentioned them.
"And then when you got me them today, I thought that maybe you like me a little as well, but… You obviously don't want to kiss me. So, I'm sorry."
Severus is still staring at Harry as if he's grown a second head. But finally the words sink in and he shakes himself out of his stupor, before letting out a full on belly laugh.
Harry flinches, startled by the sudden loud noise he's never heard before, then his shoulders slump, and he apologises again.
Oh, no. This won't do.
Gently, so as not to startle Harry again, Severus brings his hand to Harry's face, tipping up his chin so he can look into those lovely, lovely green eyes.
"You are such an idiot," Severus whispers, and Harry gasps as Severus' face comes closer and closer until finally, Severus is doing what he's been wanting to do for longer than he'd care to admit.
At first, Harry remains passive. He is probably thinking all Severus cares about is satisfying the mistletoe, but when Severus' pressure only intensifies instead of easing off, Harry lets out a quiet gasp. Not one to let an opportunity like this pass him by, Severus swiftly allows his tongue to slip past Harry's slips and they both moan at the contact.
When they finally break for air, Severus' hands are buried in Harry's even more tousled hair, and Harry is clasping onto Severus' robes.
"Wh– But… I'm confused," Harry pants and Severus chuckles. He gives Harry's lips another quick peck, before reluctantly removing his hands and stepping away to rummage in his pockets.
"Here, read this."
He watches as Harry opens the card Minerva wrote him. First, Harry's forehead wrinkles up in a frown, but then it relaxes and a soft look comes over his face.
"So you do like me," Harry says, teasing but in a way that doesn't feel aggravating.
Severus unbuttons his robes and walks over to his hanger.
"So it would seem," he nods.
~-~-~-~-~-~
"I know it's already late, but maybe I could stay? I mean, I could help you with your plants tomorrow, I used to garden a lot at the Dursleys', you know, and Molly doesn't expect me until a little later anyway, and –"
"Harry," Severus gently interrupts him, "I would consider it my best Christmas gift if you stayed with me tonight."
And Severus might not be the smiling kind of person, but when he looks into those sparkling green eyes, so alive with joy and affection, he feels his face morph into a real one.