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The Twelve Days of Secret Santa	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 32182 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: Don't worry, I fully intend to get through all twelve days despite our holidays being over. ;-) And thank you all so so much for continuing to review! Let's see what day nine has in store, shall we?

“Surely it wasn’t all that bad, Hermione. I think you are making a— what’s the muggle phrasing monkey hill out of a mountain?”

            Hermione shook her head. “Mountain out of a mole hill, and no I am not.” She said. She had invited Remus to her chambers later that evening for tea. “You didn’t see the way he was—” she let her voice trail off as she tried to fight the blush that crept into her cheeks. “I mean I was in my— the— underwear!”

            Remus couldn’t help but chuckle though this only served to make Hermione angry. “Let’s be honest, Hermione, even I’ve seen you in your skivvies, what’s the big deal?”

            “Remus, you’ve seen me drop my towel at the burrow after the shower and that was no less embarrassing but that’s not the point! This is Severus Snape we’re talking about and they weren’t just my skivvies!” she shouted. She rose from her seat on the couch and crossed the sitting room into her bedroom. A moment later she returned holding the box. She pushed it into Remus’ hands and then took her seat back on the sofa. He took care in removing the lid and nearly blushed as he gazed at the garment. Closing the box he handed the present back to Hermione.

            “Well, it certainly…erm…I think that is to say…that’s what he saw you in?”

            Hermione shook her head and placed the box on the floor beside the sofa. It had been a trying day after her early afternoon interruption. She hadn’t been able to get the moment out of her mind; Severus Snape seeing her wearing lingerie and extremely revealing lingerie to boot. “It was utterly embarrassing not to mention incredibly inappropriate. Remus, I swear he was— staring,” she gulped, swallowed hard, and then lowered her gaze to the fireplace.

            This caused Remus a great chuckle. “Can you blame the man, Hermione, you are quite the witch to gaze upon.”

            “Remus!”

            “Sorry, sorry, that wasn’t quite how I meant for that to sound.” He sighed. “I really am starting to sound like Harry aren’t I?” he took a moment to recompose his statement. “Look at it this way. You are the only female witch on staff who isn’t over fifty, isn’t crazy, and doesn’t bat for the lesbian team,” he offered.

            “Just because I’m the young straight witch doesn’t mean that— wait, seriously?” she asked.

            “Yes, well, you figure Minerva is well past the age of fifty, she was near that age the year I became a prefect. And Rolanda, Poppy, and Pomona have been in so many love triangles involving each other it’s ridiculous.” He added. “Irma has to be going into her late seventies at the very least and between Sinistra and Trelawney…well best to leave the bats in the belfry…so that leaves you, I’m afraid.”

            Hermione tilted her head slightly to the side. She had never really placed herself in the running against her fellow colleagues but after Remus’ comparison she supposed that he might be right. “Yes but— Severus Snape?”

            “Hermione to be honest I don’t know that I would have looked away either. You’re a very attractive young witch,” he shrugged his shoulders and turned his head to the side for a moment before finding the courage to meet her gaze once more. “And so what, he’s a man just like any other…” he let his words die at her incredulous look.

            “And that’s another thing…this whole enchanted restrictions business…”

            “What?”

            “I think it’s rigged. I think that someone in my house has me.”

            “Have we stopped talking about Snape? I’m confused.” He shook his head for a moment. “You mean for secret Santa?”

            “Yes, I mean for secret Santa. The restrictions regarding who can draw who—”

            “Whom,”

            “Whom, whatever. You aren’t supposed to be able to draw anyone with your house affiliation but I’ve drawn D—” she froze and cupped her hand over her mouth. She’d nearly revealed her secret Santa directly and almost cost herself a face full of holly. “I’ve drawn someone’s name that has my house affiliation.”

            Remus sat in silence for a moment and then he frowned. “Well it won’t be the first year that Dumbledore has screwed up the enchantment,” he muttered and then shrugged his shoulder. “Your point being, Hermione?”

            “My point being that someone in Gryffindor has drawn my name and sent me this ridiculous lingerie!”

            He cracked a slight smile. “You must not have thought it too ridiculous if you were wearing it.”

            Her face reddened and she stood once more from the couch. “I think you’ve drawn my name and are messing with me head, Remus Lupin.” She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him. “And so help me—”

            “I solemnly swear that while I’m up to no good I did not draw your name, Hermione Granger.”

            She sighed. “Damnnit, I was hoping it was you.”

            Remus could not help but laugh. “I think you are putting way too much thought into this. It’s supposed to be a fun little game for the holiday and you’re turning it into Mr. Body’s who done it.” He smirked and then moved to give the witch a friendly hug. “Just relax and enjoy your presents, and so what if Snape saw you in your lingerie, it’ll probably be the best Christmas present he gets all season.”

            Hermione chuckled slightly and hugged her friend. “I suppose you’re right. Now, I’m afraid I must through you out as I haven’t even started on my person’s present for tomorrow.”

            “Nor have I,” he smiled and bid her goodnight before leaving out through her study.

            It took hours of tossing and turning, paging through books, listening to old records before she finally had an idea of what to do for the headmaster’s ninth present. And it was nearly 4am before she’d managed to perfect them. Along the lines of the room of requirement she’d enchanted a simple pair of brown slippers. As the wearer needed a change of footwear; be it boots to truck through the snow, fancy dancing shoes for a party, or just casual loafers for strolling through the castle; the slippers would simply transform to fit the wearer’s needs. She’d worked in every detail imaginable from warm fuzzy interior on the snow boots, to a sleek purple suede for the party dancing shoes.

            Hermione glanced at her timepiece. With only an hour so ‘til dawn, she wrapped the slippers in a few sheets of green tissue and then slipped them into a shoebox which she transfigured from a matchbox. Tucking the package under her arm she left her study and headed for the Headmaster’s office. Slipping in past the gargoyle had been easy. Getting into his office unheard had proved to be a bit more difficult. It was pitch black; presumably so that the various headmasters and headmistresses of years gone by could sleep without being forced to draw their curtains around their paintings. She bumped into several things on her way to the center of his study and had three very groggy but angry portraits shouting at her before she’d managed to place the parcel on his desk.

            “Someone there?” she heard a voice calling from beyond a door off to the side of the office.

            “Shiite,” she muttered under her breath.

            “Wake us up and then such foul language! Well I never! Humph!” grumped one of the female portraits. Hermione did not recognize the voice but she didn’t stick around to identify it.

            “No danger, Albus, just a very clumsy sneak-thief!” the distinct voice of former headmaster Phineas Nigellus resounded in the dark room.

            “She’s not a sneak thief, you twit. It’s Professor—”

            “Don’t ruin it, Dilys!” snapped the voice of Armando Dippet. “I think she’s the Secret Santa.”

            Before the no longer slumbering portraits could further discuss her identity, Hermione slipped back out the office door, raced down the spiral staircase, dodged past the stone gargoyle, and disappeared down the corridor. She raced all the way back to her study and didn’t stop until she was inside her bedroom. She’d nearly been caught. With a heavy sigh she flopped down face first onto her bed. It was only a fun holiday game, she reminded herself before pulling herself upright and heading to her chest of drawers. A nap before classes would be nice, and a nice warm set of pajamas would be nicer, but before she made it to the top drawer a twinkling caught the corner of her eye.

            It was no bigger than a shoebox, almost the exact size of the shoebox that she had just delivered to the headmaster’s office. It was wrapped in shiny blue foil and had a large silver bow tied over the lid. Despite the urge of fatigue willing her to return to her bed and pillow she knelt down on the carpet and pulled the box into her lap. Her fingers slipped through the loops of the bow and she was careful to undo it. The box lid lifted with ease and shimmering from inside was a pair of brilliant glass shoes.

            Hermione’s eyes lit up as she pulled them with haste from the box. They were smooth, clear crystal, tinted with the slightest hint of blue. She bit her lower lip and ran a finger around the rim of the shoe edge; it was smooth as she’d expected. Placing her palm against the inside of the shoe she squealed; soft and malleable it would feel exquisite against her feet. It had been the one flaw in her favourite childhood fairytale; the fact that a pair of glass slippers would slice up the fair maiden’s feet or at the very least be excruciatingly painful to wear for the duration of a wonderful ball. But her secret Santa had thought of that.

            She was practically aglow with excitement, need for sleep long forgotten as she slipped her feet into the slippers. They had just the slightest heel, arching her feet up to give her a little lift and give her just a few more centimeters to her height. The shoes felt as if they had been molded specifically for her feet. Hermione was giddy as she spun around the room, waltzing and spinning around her bedroom in her new present. They were perfect.

            Hermione flopped back down onto her bed and gazed at the large raven fan, the feather with the glass shoe making her smile even more. With great care she removed her glass slippers and carried them to her closet. She set them in the bottom drawer, but laid a towel across the wood first, and then tucked them away in their safe new home. Normal shoes seemed boring after her experience but she slipped her feet into them anyhow and made her way to her first class.

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The Twelve Days of Secret Santa