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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
- 10
- 11
- 12
A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! And goodness only knows what Hermione has in store for the headmaster and what her secret Santa has in store for her! We're getting close- only two more present days left!

The day had been exhausting. Having had little sleep the night before didn’t help. The students were bonkers with the holiday being but two days away and she’d spent the better part of her day assigning detentions and deducting house points. She felt like a baby sitter rather than a professor. Even her exceptionally well-behaved seventh year Hufflepuff students had been a behavioral nightmare. Her stomach was rumbling, her back aching, and her eyes were so heavy that if she closed them for more than a second she feared they would never reopen. All she wanted was a long hot soak in the tub and long night’s sleep tucked under her thick goose down doona, wrapped snugly in her fluffy fuzzy pajamas.

            But sleep was a long way off. She still had dozens of assignments to finish grading; she was one of the only professors who chose to assign the large project just before the holiday break rather than during; and there was still the matter of creating the tenth present for the her secret Santa. Hermione was completely out of ideas; it had drained her creativity just to create the first nine. And as she was already on the verge of collapse the night before her did not look promising.

            Dinner had not been to her liking; it wasn’t that the food wasn’t plentiful or delicious, but the Great Hall had been so noisy, (though no more than usual two days before the long winter holiday) that it only served to give her a headache and she left before she could properly finish her meal. As she settled into her study with a pile of parchment stacked high on her desk, Hermione reached into her bottom right drawer. Bare wood met her palm and she growled. Her last bottle of pepper up potion was missing. She yawned and then growled again. She had used it the very first night she’d stayed up creating the Sherbert Lemon-bearing shrub.

            Her legs ached as she rose from her chair and threw on her teaching robes. They were thicker than what she wore currently and traversing through the castle at night was always chilly. She left her study and trudged through the corridors, battling with the staircases to make her way to the medical wing. Students were still milling about visiting their friends as visiting hours were still open and curfew had been extended due to the approaching holiday. She spied the mediwitch sitting in her office with a most sour look upon her face.

            “Sorry to bother, Poppy…” she said as she tapped her fingers against the frame of the doorway.

            “What do you— oh, Hermione, yes dear?” her voice was coarse at first but she brightened slightly as she let her eyes rest on Hermione’s face.

            “I am really sorry, but did you have a bottle of pepper up potion? I haven’t had a chance to replenish my supply…”

            The mediwitch frowned. “You shouldn’t make a habit of using that stuff, dear.” She said and then shook her head. “But no matter, I’m fresh out, I’m afraid. Severus is meant to have me a fresh batch by the morning.”

            Hermione’s body stiffened at the mention of his name. She was still unable to get him out of her mind after he had seen her in her lingerie. With a stiff nod of her head she thanked the mediwitch and departed from the medical wing. She contemplated heading to the kitchens for some coffee but from her current location in the castle and with the mood the staircases were in the kitchens would be just as far away from the medical wing as the dungeons would. Though she loathed the idea of calling upon Severus Snape at this hour, not only because of how he had seen her but because of his general demeanor; the time it would take for the house elves to properly brew her a decent cup of coffee was worth the trade off.

            She drew her teaching robes tighter around her figure as she wandered through the castle and descended into the dungeons. His rooms were simple, guarded by a portrait that seemed to care little that she was not the resident. The serpent rolled its eyes lazily and then slithered out of the way revealing a large oak door. Her instinct should have been to knock but she found her hand clenched against the handle and felt her wrist turning before she’d given it a second thought. She supposed that he was leaving the wards and locks to his rooms down in hopes of giving Neville easier access for gift delivery. She chuckled at the thought.

            As the door creaked open she called out, “Professor Snape?”

            “In the library, Miss Granger.” He called from the depths of his chambers.

            The man had his own library? She was impressed. Having never entered the man’s chambers before she had no idea where his library was but the sound of his voice appeared to be coming from the corridor that led off to the right from the sitting room. She shut the door behind her and ventured further into his rooms. The corridor was narrow and the first two doors on the right were closed. It was the first door on the left; open with a soft orange glow inside that she peaked inside.

            The room was lined from floor to ceiling with bookshelves and each shelf was filled to the brim with books. On the far wall a grand fireplace with intricate ornate carvings was set into the wall and a roaring fire was ablaze in the hearth. A squishy burgundy sofa that appeared to upholstered in velvet sat angled facing the fire and on it sat the Potions Master. He was a sight and it took her breath away for the briefest of moments. Donned in black as he was tradition she could hardly believe that the man was not buttoned from high collar to toe and was in fact wearing what appeared to be a housecoat and pajama pants.

            “What did you need, Miss Granger?” he drawled and then took a sip from his glass.

            She noticed the crystal cup in his hand, catching the amber liquid glinting against it in the firelight. But what she noticed even more than his drink was the way his lips curved against the glass as he sipped from it. She shook her head slightly trying to clear her mind. “Poppy said you had pepper up potion…” her voice was dreamy, almost lost.

            Severus nodded and slowly stood from the sofa. He stepped toward her and then passed her, pausing in the doorway. “Are you feeling alright, Miss Granger?” he turned and asked when she did not follow him.

            “What?” she shook her head once more. “Oh, sorry, sir.” She felt a warm blush creep into her cheeks and stalked quickly past him and out into the corridor to prevent him from seeing her face. “I’m just feeling the exhaustion of the upcoming holiday; wily student, papers to grade, secret Santa presents to create, hence the potion, sir.”

            Severus was silent for a moment and then he nodded. “I too hate the holidays.”

            “Oh! No, sir,” she said, flushing fully this time. “I just meant that they make me tired, is all.”

            “I see,” he said and then moved down the corridor to a darkened door on the right side. He entered, a light came on, the sound of bottle clinking filled the air, and then silence, the light darkened and he emerged into the corridor holding a bottle. “I believe this is what you came for?” he offered the bottle to her.

            “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” She nodded and took the bottle. A bolt shot through her fingers when they touched; it was just the slightest brush of the tips of his fingers against hers as the bottle left his palm and was placed into hers, but it had sent a shiver of electricity running up her spine. She was rooted to the spot, her eyes wide as she caught his gaze.

            “Was there something else, Miss Granger?” he asked, quirking a brow up on his forehead.

            Hermione quickly shook her head. “No, sorry, sir. I really am just exhausted.” She nodded quickly and then retreated down the corridor to his main room. “Thank you, sir, goodnight.”

            “Goodnight, Miss Granger.” He said as she disappeared through his door.

            Hermione felt strangely warm as she trekked back up through the dungeons to her chambers. It had been his touch. It was nonsense, her mind chided as she entered her room. Exhaustion had gotten the better of her of that she was certain. But she was sure he had been staring at her; not just when she had been parading about her room in her lingerie but just then in his rooms too. With a frustrated sigh she popped the cork on the potion bottle and downed the liquid in one gulp. It tasted terrible but she supposed it was to help prevent addiction. A jittery feeling overtook her body as she settled into her study with papers to grade and still no idea as to what to do for Dumbledore’s tenth gift.

            It was just after midnight when she’d finally completed all of her marking. The essays were graded, the assignments were marked, and as far as she was concerned her school matters were completed until after the holidays. Her new task was to create a present for her secret Santa. She’d done sweets, and clothing, and rare beasts, and even a nifty magical gadget. She was completely out of ideas. And she didn’t want to send something ordinary because it just didn’t feel special; especially not when her secret Santa was putting so much effort into her presents. It was time for a soak in the tub.

            Hermione entered her bathroom and couldn’t help but smile. The bathtub that had appeared with her third day’s presents had remained in her bathroom. She couldn’t explain it but she wasn’t complaining. And while the luxurious mud was tempting she wanted a searing hot bubble bath to melt her troubles away. With a wave of her wand the bath water was practically boiling; she took great care in adding jasmine and patchouli herbs and bubbles to the water before sliding in. With a carefully transfigured towel she rested her head back against an air pillow and sighed as the water enveloped her.

            She closed her eyes. Steam wafted slowly up from the surface of the bubbly water and tickled her nostrils as she dozed in that peaceful state between awake and asleep. The potion she had consumed would not allow her sleep but she would at least be able to relax. The aches and pains of the day slowly melted away in the water as she lounged; a simple spell keeping the water that delicious searing hot as when she’d first stepped in. Hermione tried to clear her mind; she needed to come up with a present.

            But her mind was lecherous and thoughts of a darker and more sensual nature took over before she could stop them. Thoughts of how strange but curiously pleasant it had felt when his fingers had brushed against hers. And what it would feel like if perhaps his fingertips had brushed against her shoulder, or curve of her neck. Or if he had brushed his fingertips against her breasts. She felt her nipples stiffen and Hermione moaned ever so slightly. Her fingers were creeping up her legs beneath water and she whimpered as she felt her fingertips press against her sensitive nub. Hermione imagined for the briefest moment that they were his fingertips.

            Perhaps it had been something Remus had said about him being a man, or the way he had stared at her in the lingerie but suddenly the dour potions master seemed incredibly sexy. Hermione moaned again as she slipped two fingers into her sex and began to work her hand beneath the water. If only they were his fingers; touching her, caressing her. And the image of his lips curving against his drink glass made her tremble; if only they had curved against her skin instead. She came against her hand, imagining it was his hand and her body trembled as she did.

            The water was still hot and her body was even more at ease than before. Her lips were curled into the slightest of smiles her eyes half lidded. She was alone in her very luxurious bath and no one would ever know that she had brought herself to her second ever orgasm imagining one Severus Snape. Hermione lounged there for at least an hour, just lazily letting the bubbles float around her chin; letting the steam warm her face; the water heat her skin. It struck her as an idling thought; the bubbles. And she ran with it.

            Pulling herself out of the tub had been a great difficulty as she was inclined to remain there until sleep claimed her fully. But reason grabbed hold of her and pulled her from the depths of pleasure. After she had dried her body and was wrapped warmly in her pajamas she set to work creating bubbles. And not just any sort but a myriad of bubbles; ten different types in all. There were of course normal bubbles; they were in the first bottle. Simple bubbles made with little more than glycerin soap and water. She shaped the wand like a circle, attached the wand to the lid of the bottle and capped the formula.

            The second bottle was a bit more difficult to create but she had remembered them from when she was young; edible bubbles. You could blow them and they had a slight color hue but aside from that they were safe to eat and tasted just like a fruity lolly. She chose grape as her flavour, thus giving the bubbles a slight purple hue. The third bottle were heavy rubbery bubbles that took a great deal of effort to blow, but once blown they could be stuck to one another or molded almost like clay.

            The fourth, fifth, and sixth bottles were enchanted with shapes; the fourth being bright stars with glitter inside, the fifth odd shapes with many sides and curves, and the sixth bottle created bubbles that resembled beasts and creatures. She had enchanted the seventh bottle to create small black bubbles that would make terribly rude sounds when they burst, and the eighth bottle had been enchanted with various colours; each bubble blown would result in a different shade of the color spectrum. That had taken quite a while to perfect. The ninth and tenth bottles were by far her favourite. When a bubble was blown from the ninth bottle it would shift shape and color until it burst and upon its bursting it would emit a tiny shower of golden or silver sparks depending upon which color the bubble had been before rupturing. And the tenth bottle produced invisible bubbles until they popped and created a rather loud bang and a shower of purple and blue sparks.

            Hermione was most pleased with her handiwork and had bundled all of the bubble bottles into a basket. She tied a bright blue bow around the basket handle and headed off to the owlery. No sense in waking any more portraits even if it was nearly dawn. She made a second trip to the owlery this time carrying all of her graded essays and assignments. Each would arrive to her students with breakfast and thus end the need to have final classes that day and the following. Pleased with her plans she flopped into bed, the effects of the pepper up potion finally wearing off.

            It was a soft tapping at her bedroom door that woke her some time later. Hermione rolled over under the doona and pulled the coverlet up over her ears; but the tapping grew louder. “Sod it,” she muttered and struggled to untangle her limbs from the sheets. The carpet felt cold against her feet as she stumbled toward her bedroom door. Pulling it open she frowned; there was no one on the other side in her sitting room yet the tapping persisted. With a sigh she found her slippers, drew her housecoat about her figure and moved toward her study; someone was knocking on her office door from out in the school corridor.

            This time she was met with the innocent stare of Neville Longbottom. “Sorry to er— were you sleeping?” he asked, looking at her housecoat.

            “Yes, can’t I have a lie in the day before holidays?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She hadn’t meant to sound cross but she had been quite comfortable in her warm bed, lost in a dream about yummy cake and bathtubs.

            “At half four in the afternoon?” he said a bit incredulously.

            Hermione frowned. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was quite so late. I was up half the night grading final papers,” she said.

            Neville shrugged and then reached into his pocket. “I wanted to just slip this into your rooms, but after hearing that someone nearly got busted in the Headmaster’s office the other day…” he shook his head. “I’m not your secret Santa, I was just asked to give it to you…” he said and handed her the parcel.

            “So much for not asking for delivery assistance,” she sighed and took the parcel. It was no bigger than her palm, a box no more than 8 centimeters high and a few across. It wasn’t even wrapped, just a simple brown box. “Who gave it to you?” she ventured.

            “How should I know?” he said, his eyes wide. “It was in my room this morning with a note that said to deliver it to you.”

            Hermione narrowed her eyes for a moment and then smiled. Neville was not a good liar and he seemed quite confident in his story. At least she could tell when he was honest. “Well, thank you.” She nodded and then excused herself back into her chambers.

            The brown box was not difficult to open. Inside a long black velvet case with silver hinges, not unlike the case in which her earrings had been presented. Hermione smiled before she opened it. More jewelry; she hoped. Pulling the lid carefully back she gasped. Ice blue diamonds strung on a drip pendant necklace glittered up at her from their nestled spot against the black velvet cushion. It took her breath away as they twinkled in the dim light of her study. Her fingers trembled as she lifted the piece from the box and held it against her neck. The chain with thin and silver, draping down her neck in an intricate swirling teardrop formation; each swirl and curl ending in a point with an ice blue diamond. It was more than beautiful, though it was a pity it wouldn’t match her earrings.

            Careful to place the necklace back in the box she closed the lid and moved into her bedroom. She sat the necklace box beside the velvet earring box on her dresser and smiled. Glass slippers, and jewelry, she felt like a princess. Although she had rested, her body still carried the weariness of fatigue. Figuring another nap couldn’t hurt before dinner; Hermione crawled back into her bed, discarding her housecoat and slippers as she did. The sheets were still warm and welcoming and in no time at all, her head was resting against the pillow and Hermione had fallen back to sleep.

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The Twelve Days of Secret Santa