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The Tale of Ebenezer Snape	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 2912 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and do not make any money from my scribblings about it.

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A/N: This idea has been floating around in my head for ages. Penning the remarkably surly Severus Snape as Ebenezer Scrooge. And then I stumbled onto someone who had most recently tried their earnest at the notion— and grammatical errors aside made me realize that it has been far too long that I’ve let this idea turn over in my head and it is time to turn it proper to paper. Perhaps in time for the Christmas Season as well.

The warm smell of holiday baked goods assaulted their noses as they walked through the door. But the scent was nothing compared to the festive carnival that met their eyes. The children’s ward of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was always alive with bright colour and cheer, but the Christmas holiday made the rest of the year seem somehow like a dull black and white muggle photograph.

            Garland and tinsel in every colour was strung across the ceiling, slithering down the walls like many rainbow wiggling worms. Over each child’s room was a festive wreath enchanted to change from bright shades of red to green and from silver to gold. Candy canes were laced on faerie floss all down the hallway. But the most spectacular sight of all was the enormous Christmas tree in the playroom at the end of the corridor.

            Hermione beamed. Even the Hogwarts Christmas tree was not as elaborately decorated as the one that stood before her. “This is why we come here.” She smiled.

            Severus stared blankly ahead. “I’d much prefer to be home.” He said.

            She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a Scrooge, share the holiday cheer with these children. These children who are too sick to be home with their families on Christmas Eve. These children who are too—”

            “Alright,” he muttered and waved his hand to dismiss any further examples of the poor sick children that were waiting to flow from her mouth.

            They stood in the doorway of the playroom gazing about at the two dozen or so children that were well enough to clamor out of their beds and roust about with the others. It was a sight to behold. The ceiling had been enchanted not all that different from the one in the Hogwarts’ great hall and snowflakes tumbled down leaving little piles of snow scattered about the floor.

            The enormous evergreen took up most of the room; its branches fat and thick with festive ornaments. Lights blinked in every colour imaginable from between the needles and a serene angel glowed from the treetop. Hermione’s eyes were wide as she tried to drink in every detail. There were little tin men guarding the stack of presents at the base, each one pointed outward creating a small ring around the tree. Some of the ornaments were enchanted— faeries flitting about, chasing each other around the tree, and icicles that glimmered in the light but wouldn’t melt.

            “Oh you’re here!” cried a voice.

            Hermione turned her head from the magnificent tree for just a moment and smiled. “Happy Christmas, Poppy.”

            Poppy Pomphrey came bustling over to Hermione, her arms full of presents which were headed for the pile beneath the tree. The Mediwitch smiled and leaned in to place a peck on the younger witch’s cheek.

            “Severus, put these under the tree,” she said and handed the armful of presents to him.

            “It looks amazing. I swear every year you outdo yourself.”

            Poppy blushed. “It’s all for the children.”

            Hermione nodded. “Are you certain you wouldn’t like to head off? Surely you have someone waiting for you?”

            “No no, Minerva is with her family tonight. We’re meeting in the morning.” The mediwitch was practically bouncing. “They’ve been waiting all night you know, between the story and Father Christmas.”

            Hermione tilted her head to the side. “Father Christmas is making an appearance this year?”

            But before Poppy could say another word a small group of children had appeared around Hermione’s knees, one of them tugging on the long ruby velvet cloak she donned. “Miss Hermione! Are you here to tell us a story?”

            The little girl who had asked the question was a girl that Hermione had remembered from some of her previous visits to Mungo’s. Since the war, anyone with healer capabilities had been urged to volunteer until new fully qualified healers were trained to tend the hospital. The girl before her was no more than six; victim of a horrible splinching when her parents had tried to apparate her to safety. Her left arm and leg were still nowhere to be found.

            Hermione smiled down at the girl, “Yes, Greta. I am. Could you help me get everyone gathered around the tree?”

            The little girl nodded. She tapped a taller, bigger boy on the shoulder. This boy, whose name escaped Hermione’s mind at the moment, had been blinded in an incident with a rogue dragon. The bigger boy put his fingers to his lips and let loose a shrill whistle. All the children in the playroom stilled their movements and turned their heads to see Hermione standing near the tree.

            A stampede of children thundered from every corner of the room, all landing around her feet. “Oh my goodness, Happy Christmas!” she laughed.

            “Happy Christmas, Miss Hermione!” they said as one.

            “Where is my chair?” she put her hand over her eye and mimicked looking far and wide for it. “Ah, I see it. Just there.” She pointed to the far corner of the room. “Mr. Snape, would you bring me my chair? I think our friends are eager for the story to begin!”

            Severus, who was dressed mostly in black— Hermione had refused to let him leave the house in all black on Christmas Eve, insisting he don a slightly more festive deep emerald green shirt—moved to the corner and lifted the antique rocking chair with ease. The ornate carvings reminded him of the headboard of their four-poster. He brought the chair over to the Christmas tree and sat it down.

            “Your cloak?” he asked, and extended his hand, waiting for Hermione to remove the red garment that they had travelled in.

            “Why thank you,” she smiled and slowly spun out of her cloak. Beneath the cloak Hermione wore a bright emerald velvet dress. It was suited for her figure and for the holiday season, with a belt of holy and silver accents around the cuffs and collar. She took her seat in the rocking chair. All of the children scooted as close as they possibly could, one of them even half sitting on her foot. “My book, please.” She said.

            After hanging her cloak on the coat rack near the playroom door, Severus reached into the satchel he’d carried with them. The bright golden book seemed to out-glow every other festive light in the room. He handed it over the heads of many children to his wife and then stepped back.

            “Thank you.” With the book settled nicely on her lap, Hermione reached into the neckline of her dress and withdrew a tiny pair of reading spectacles. “Tonight on Christmas Eve…let’s see…what should we read?”

            “’Twas the Night Before Christmas!” a little boy with no teeth shouted.

            “Read the little Christmas House Elf!” cried another little boy.

            “No! No! Read Father Christmas visits Hogwarts.” A pair of twin girls cried.

            Commotion broke out among the children as they bickered over which story would be best for Hermione to read.

            “Every year it’s the same…” Poppy said to Severus. “They fuss, they fight…”

            “I want to hear the story of Rudolph!” another voice squeaked over the rising din.

            “No, Frosty!”

            “A Hippogriff Christmas!” cried another.

            “No— read the one about the little witch who ran away on Christmas!” a little girl shouted.

            “Well which is it?” Hermione asked.

            “What about the Tale of Ebenezer Snape?” Greta asked.

            Severus rolled his eyes. “Every year.” He muttered.

            A few soft whines of protest echoed amongst the children but most of them seemed eager. A dark-skinned girl with many burns scooted herself closer to Hermione. “I’ve never heard this story before.”

            Hermione smiled. “The Tale of Ebenezer Snape?” she chuckled and turned the pages of the golden book. “It’s a wonderful Christmas tale, I promise.” She cast a sidelong glance over her shoulder in search of her husband. “Alright,” she beamed as the children settled into an excited hush. “The Tale of Ebenezer Snape, then.”

            Severus sighed. It was the same every year. He summoned himself a mug of the warm Christmas coffee and pulled the plush sofa nearer toward the circle of children gathered at his wife’s feet. “Grab a cup and join me,” he motioned to Poppy who followed suit at his request.

            “Remember, children, this story may get a bit scary at times, but it is just a story.” She smiled. One tiny little girl jumped up from the crowd, dashed out of the playroom but before anyone could chase after her, she’d returned toting a teddy bear twice her size. Hermione had to bite her lower lip to prevent herself from giggling at the girl.

            She placed her reading spectacles on the bridge of her nose and peered down at the glittering words on the page. “Malfoy was dead in the beginning. That is the important part to remember, but he was long since gone, leaving Snape to his own working vices.”

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The Tale of Ebenezer Snape