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Getting Personal	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 38186 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
A/N: Well holy shit, everybody. You all certainly liked that last chapter. The ratings reached 100, and my review cup runneth over. Many thanks to all you loyal readers.
Although this is a continuation of the last chapter, it is also the equivalent "Christmas Special" of the story. Happy holiday reading.
LRB: Thank you so much for the kind review. I'm glad to give you something to look forward to. And no, you're not crazy; there has to be some conflict to move the story along. The question isn't whether the other shoe will drop but how, when...and will anybody pick it up. I hope you (and everyone else) continue to enjoy the story. Happy Holidays to you too.
chels, Amanda b, lunarose, Strotz, mywitch, Leslie, and Rosajean: Thank you all so much for taking the time to review. I loved hearing everyone's' reactions and thoughts. I'm glad you're all enjoying it and I hope you like what's to come.
Trelweny: I know, right. Crookshanks is great character. When I got done writing TMG, I was like nooooooo, I forgot about Crookshanks. So I wanted him to be a key part of my next story. He actually has a duel role here. (But I don't know if I've made it clear what the second one is. It is mentioned/hinted at in this chapter.)

I agree actions speak louder than words (but sometimes words can cut down on confusion). That is a major upcoming plot point in this story.

Thank you for continuing to read and review. I love hearing what you think about each chapter.
Severus1Snape: LOL. Your glee for their big reveal is palpable. I like that. Yep, it's time for people to find out.
FieryPhoenix: I know, it made me cry when I wrote it. Visiting her parents is a depressing thing to do, but she wants to be with her family for the holidays (even if they don't know it) and she feels responsible for them. Don't worry, there's no more dying in this story.
Desert Sea: You’re from Australia? I hope nothing was glaringly wrong with anything I wrote. And your praise isn’t nauseating in the least. Maybe everyone needs a sycophant to keep them going. I’ll be yours. I wouldn’t psychoanalyze your (or anyone else’s) writing. Sometimes a story is just a story. You don’t have anything to make amends for. The Quickening has a little bit of everything. Just like life.
I’m glad you got lost in the storyline. When I’m the reader, that’s what I want to happen; so I’m happy I succeeded as the writer. You’re right, I did agonize over every sentence. I edited that chapter a bit differently than I usually do. After I read your story, I was like, “This chapter isn’t good enough. I need to re-write.” But instead of just starting from scratch (since I didn’t have time), I went through and highlighted every part that I wasn’t happy with. Then I went back through and just re-wrote (or cut) all the highlighted parts. It worked out better than I anticipated. I did the same thing with this chapter.
Your quoted commentary cracked me up.

“I also love the bit where he is slightly insulted that she hadn’t realised that he has a huge arsenal of kissing styles.” I liked this too. To him it’s subtle variations that match the mood. To her, it’s just him kissing her the right way every time.

“ . . . pussy wasn't perched atop his prick like a prurient parakeet” – perfect alliteration and I had to look up prurient to make sure it wasn’t purulent which means pus. First off, purulent is going in my word notebook. Secondly, (just as a fun bit of trivia) I originally finished this sentence with “he’d be able to curb his curious cock.” But I felt it was just too much alliteration for one sentence.

“And not being much of a cat person, I quite enjoyed this from Snape “Well he's going to be sleeping in it forever now.”

Maybe I’m just an inherently mean person.” Nope. Your comment had me snorting.
Hope you like this chapter just as much. Happy reading.

11 — With Love, From Me to You
Hogwarts looked just as Hermione remembered it. It was a time capsule of memories, good and bad. Its halls remained steadfast. The constancy was a balm to her soul. Why couldn’t the world provide more bastions of predictability like this? She needed a refuge from the uncertainty of life.
Snape’s quarters were a dark den of quietude. She hadn’t known what to expect . . . maybe a serpent-studded motif draped in black damask, or an extension of his office—jars and bottles lining the walls with oozing ingredients and preserved remains floating in florescent fluid. But it wasn't either of those. Slytherin Potions master seemed to be a persona he threw off when the day was done. His room was tastefully decorated with a mishmash of antique furniture. The walls were lined not with phials but books. The battered spines were beautiful. She wanted to stroke each one. Perhaps later he would let her drown her sorrows in his library.
Leaving their bags on his bed, Snape gave her a questioning look. “Are you ready? Hagrid rises with the sun. I’m sure he’s up already.”
Hermione nodded. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at the box under Snape’s arm. How was she supposed to say goodbye? Crooks knew her better than most people, and now her list of reliable confidants was dwindling. Who would she tell about her day? Who would sit with her when she was sad and lonely?
Snape put his arm around her. They took the side exit nearest the dungeons, and he led her across the frozen grounds. The icy grass crackled beneath their boots like bones. Snow fell softly over the scene, leaving everything in a dusting of powder. The rising sun cast a pink hue over the snow, and Severus could see Hagrid’s hut in the distance looking like a weathered fairy cake, the roof frosted in confectioner’s sugar. Smoke puffed from the chimney, a sure sign that the groundskeeper was indeed awake.
Severus watched Hermione from the corner of his eye. She was a figure of mourning, her countenance somber and downcast. The sorrow pulled her shoulders to the ground as if her cloak were made of lead. Her eyes avoided the cat box at all costs; she barely even looked in his direction. Snape wanted to help her accept this and move on, but he didn’t see how that was going to happen when she couldn’t even look at the casket under his arm.
Hermione felt ridiculous for being so queasy about her own dead cat, but she couldn’t stand to think of Crooks's stiff body stuffed in that box. Crookshanks was supposed to be warm and furry, not cold and limp. This was all wrong. Someone had made a mistake. She kept waiting to hear him scratching at the box, meowing to be let out. She heard nothing but the whistle of the heartless wind.
Snape took the lead and knocked on Hagrid’s rough-hewn door. The clanking sounds of cookery ceased, and seconds later the door cracked open.
Hagrid blinked in surprise and opened the door wider. “Perfesser! What brings you out so early in the mornin?”
Snape nodded in greeting. “We’d like to ask a favor of you.”
“We?” Hagrid peered around the professor. “Hermione! Aren’t you a sight fer sore eyes? What’re you doin here? Come in, come in. You two’ll freeze yer wands off out there.”
Hermione followed Snape inside, smiling as the cozy glow warmed her heart. This was just the same too. Hagrid wrapped her in a hug, and her eyes went wide as he lifted her off the ground.
“Look at you, Hermione,” Hagrid said, beaming at her. “Haven't seen you since Harry's wedding.”
Hagrid must have spent a past life as a teddy bear. Hugging his massive frame was sublimely comforting. “I’ve missed you too.” A wet nose nuzzled her hand, and she looked down to find an excited boar hound sniffing her jeans. “Who’s this?”
“Fang the second. Looks just like the first, don’ he?”
Hermione smiled down at the dancing dog. “How old is he?”
“Jus’ two. Still a baby. Fang, leave her be. She’ll pet yeh when y'calm down.”
Fang moved on the professor, snuffling at his boots and then zeroing in on the box under his arm.
Snape silently snarled, and the dog backed away with a whimper of apology, using Hagrid as a shield. Setting the balsam box on the table, Severus pulled off his cloak and draped it over the chair. It was hot as Hades in that little hut. Two layers was plenty.
"What was it you wanted ter ask, Perfesser? Must be important for you t'come all the way down here at the crack of dawn."
Severus helped Hermione off with her cloak and pulled out the chair for her. He saw her glance warily at the box, so he put it in one of the other chairs where she wouldn’t have to see it. "Hermione's cat died. I told her you might be willing to lay him to rest here in your garden."
Hagrid was momentarily dumbfounded by their intimate interaction. Quickly regaining his composure, he realized what Snape had just said. "Course I will. We'll give him a right proper funeral. How old was he, Hermione?"
"I'm not totally sure," she said quietly, staring at her hands. "He wasn’t young when I got him. But I've had him for about thirteen years."
Hagrid gaped, staring down at the cat box. "Is this Crookshanks?"
She nodded.
"I can't believe he lasted this long," Hagrid muttered. "I knew that cat was part Kneazle. He used ter come over at night t'see Fang. They'd go out wanderin' until Fang got scared and came runnin' back with his tail between his legs."
Hermione smiled. "I always wondered where he went when he wasn't with me. I figured he was hunting mice in the castle."
"Aye." Hagrid nodded. “He was. He was huntin' 'em in my garden too. I'd find him out there hidin' in the pumpkin patch, waitin' to pounce. Looked like a great furry pumpkin himself."
Snape was relieved to see her smiling again.
"Why don't we go out and find a good rock ter use as a headstone? We can give him the spot right next ter Fang. They can keep each other comp'ny."
Hermione's eyes started to water. She could only nod. That sounded perfect. She didn't want Crooks to be all by himself.
"I'll get my cloak," Hagrid said with a final nod.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Hagrid couldn’t help noticing the way Snape kept touching Hermione. It was just some innocent brushes of his fingers, a steadying hand to her back; but it was enough to arouse suspicion. They were too comfortable with each other to appear casual. Finding a large rock in the underbrush, Hagrid held it up. “How bout this one?”
Hermione ran her fingers over the flat surface. "It's perfect."
Snape took out his wand. "I'll engrave it. Why don’t you two find some flowers."
"I've got some," Hagrid said, glad to be of help. "Neville and Pomona brought them from the greenhouse yesterday."
Hagrid and Hermione left Snape to his stonecutting. When they were back in the hut, Hagrid plucked a bunch of flowers from a watering can in the corner. "You arrange 'em, Hermione. You know what looks nice."
Hermione took the flowers to the table and carefully bundled them into a colorful spray of blooms.
"Not that it's any of my business," Hagrid said lightly, "but why is Snape so concerned about yer cat?"
Hermione blushed and kept her eyes on the flowers. "He's just trying to help me feel better."
"Perfesser Snape?" The Potions master wasn't known for making anyone feel better. More the opposite.
"Could you please not say anything about this to anyone?" Hermione asked, looking up at him. "I don't know if we're ready for the world to know about us yet."
"Know what?"
"That's just it, I have no idea how to answer that. We're sort of seeing each other."
"Sort of?"
"It's complicated. But I'm having a nice time with him, and I don't want to mess that up."
He guessed complicated was putting it mildly. "No one will hear a word from me."
"Thanks, Hagrid. How does this look?"
"Looks lovely. Let me get you some twine t'tie it together."

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Snape stood by Hermione’s side as Hagrid carefully laid the box in the hole he'd dug next to Fang's grave. The wind had picked up, and the glittering snowflakes were falling faster. The beauty of the snow was tarnished by the grief radiating from her huddled figure. This was no white Christmas for her; it was a snowstorm of sadness. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and let her cry out all the hurt, but they needed to maintain some modicum of propriety. When they got back to his room, he’d let loose the floods of affection and drown her in as much sweetness as she could stomach.
Hagrid brushed the dirt from his hands and stood up. “Did you want ter say anything, Hermione?”
She took a deep breath. As soon as she tried to speak, her voice caught, and she felt the tears rush the backs of her eyes. A choked gasp was the only sound that escaped.
"I'll say somethin'," Hagrid said, reading her expression. "We're all here t’say goodbye ter Crookshanks. He lived a long and happy life, full of mice and catnip. Friend to all animals, he was the kind of cat that comes around only once. Ye'll be greatly missed, Crookshanks. Why don't we each tell our fav'rit Crookshanks memory. I think he'd like that."
Severus had the urge to shove the half-giant into the lake. He wanted to help Hermione move on, not linger in the past.
"I'll start," Hagrid volunteered. "When you was in school, Hermione, I come home one night ter find Crookshanks and Fang asleep by the fire. Fang was hidin under a blanket in the corner, an' Crookshanks was sprawled out in front of him, keepin guard. Knew they was best mates after that. Never met a braver cat. I saw him use the Whomping Willow as a scratching post once."
Hermione’s tears wobbled to a smile. Crooks was brave. And a good friend. It was nice to hear someone else confirm her feelings. If she hadn’t had him all these years, the loneliness would have been unbearable. He comforted her when she was crying and courageously acted as guard cat of the flat. He always seemed to be in the right place at the right time.
"I'll go next," Severus said softly, seeing her loosen up a little. "I only recently got to know Crookshanks, so I don’t really have a favorite memory; but I was impressed by his powers of perception. The scrutiny in that orange gaze could bring a man to his knees. I'm honored I got to know you, Crookshanks. And I'm grateful you were always there for Hermione. You were loyal as well as brave."
He'd never had a memorial for a cat, and he felt absolutely ridiculous. He'd have to tell Hagrid to keep this whole production to himself. He couldn't have people thinking he went around doing this sort of thing on a regular basis.
Hermione gave him a watery smile. "Crooks really liked you. I wish you could have known him better."
Severus had a feeling Crookshanks knew him better than most people. That cat had looked inside his soul. He’d never felt so transparent in his entire life. It was unclear what Crooks had been looking for in his eyes; but he must have been judged favorably. There had never been any hissing or clawing to suggest displeasure.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, Hermione managed to make herself speak. "My favorite memory of Crookshanks is right after the final battle. I went back home to check on my parents' house, and he was there sitting on the front mat . . . as if he were waiting for me. Mrs. Figg had been watching him for me while we were on the run; but somehow he was there that day. Seeing him . . . was . . .” She broke down into tears, unable to go on.
Severus put his arm around her shoulders, avoiding Hagrid's curious gaze as he pulled her close. She turned her wet face to him and rested her forehead on his shoulder.
"And that's the kind of friend he was," Hagrid said, sounding just as choked up as Hermione. "He was a king among cats. Goodbye, Crookshanks. I hope where ever yeh've gone, you know how much you were loved here."
Hagrid knelt down and gently pushed the dirt over the hole, filling it in with a few swipes of his shovel-sized hands. "Got the headstone ready, Perfesser?”
Snape levitated the rock over to Hagrid’s mound of dirt, and the groundskeeper patted down the earth and adjusted the stone.
"Crookshanks," Hagrid said, reading the inscription. “Devoted Friend and Companion. That's right nice. Did you want ter put the flowers on, Hermione?"
She nodded through her tears, kneeling down on the cold ground with him and laying the bouquet atop the grave. The wind batted the blossoms around like tissue paper. Hermione cast a protective shield around the grave so the stiff winds wouldn't tear Crooks's flowers to shreds. "Goodbye, Crookshanks," she whispered. "I'll miss you so much." Her head was screaming, "How could you leave me like this?" but that sounded too selfish to utter out loud. This wasn't about her.
"You can come here anytime you want, Hermione."
"Thanks, Hagrid.” She sniffled. “And thanks for letting him stay here."
"I'm honored," Hagrid said, wiping his eyes. "And don' worry, you won' always feel so bad. It don' hurt forever."
Hermione wrapped him in a tight hug, burying her face in his itchy jumper.
"Are you ready to go back to the castle?" Snape asked softly. "We can stay here as long as you like, but the snow's getting heavier."
Hermione nodded and let go of Hagrid. “I don’t want to leave him, but maybe we should go. I can't feel my fingers anymore."
Hagrid smiled down at her and whispered, "Crookshanks is in yer heart, not out here in the ground. You can find him wherever y'go."
The tears were freezing to her face, icing her lashes, but she couldn't stop them from falling. Crooks was in her heart; she could feel him stretching out in there, circling around, making himself comfortable. It made her breastbone buzz with soft warmth. She didn't know her heart could be bursting with love but still ache so fiercely. Kissing her fingers, she bent down and touched the cold stone. “See you later."
"It would be better if you didn't tell anyone about this,” Snape muttered to Hagrid while Hermione finished saying goodbye. “I don't think we're ready for Minerva or the inquisition that would surely follow."
Hagrid nodded. "Hermione's already asked me t'keep it mum."
"Thank you," Severus said, referring to both the confidentiality and the funeral service.
"Glad ter do it," he said, smiling at Hermione. "That's what friends'r for."
Snape slipped his arm around her shoulders as she rose. "Let's get you inside," he whispered. "You're shivering."
Hagrid watched the unlikely couple walk back to the castle. Snape had his arm around her the whole way, protecting her from the cold; Hagrid couldn’t remember seeing an odder sight in all his years at Hogwarts.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Severus took her back to his rooms. The fire had melted the chill while they were gone, and he set her cloak and scarf to dry on the hearth while he peeled her gloves from her numb fingers. She was still crying, so he took her to the love seat, which faced the fire. Sitting down next to her, he pulled her frozen hands into the warmth of his jacket and wrapped her in his arms. He wanted to hold her until time stopped. Whether she was happy or sad, he felt useful when she was around. He wasn’t an optimist by nature, but he knew how to recognize a blessing in disguise. He certainly didn’t want her to be sad, but the situation did lend itself to displays of affection. There was some good to be had in all this sorrow.
Smashing her face into his chest, Hermione finally let out what she'd been holding in all morning, bawling into his shirt as if she'd never stop. He hugged her close, and she curled deeper into him. His arms sheltered her from the world. If he hadn’t been with her, she would have been slumped in heap on the floor of her flat, defeated by death yet again. Instead, she was slumped in a heap on his chest, clinging to him like a life preserver. To the shortsighted there wouldn't seem to be much difference between those two choices, when in fact they were worlds apart. Here, he was just propping her up until she could walk on her own two feet again. At home, she would have been lame and defenseless as she lay on the floor like a wounded animal. This was infinitely better. She just needed him to be there—holding her until her heart knitted itself back together. His embrace was soul plaster. He’d keep her cuts covered until they had healed.
Mourning took a lot out of Hermione. Her entire body was heaving, the sorrow running from her eyes and nose like a river.
She cried until her body ran out of tears.
He never stopped stroking her back.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
"Hermione?" he whispered.
There was no answer. She'd cried herself to sleep. It was only noon. He'd wake her up in a bit and get her to eat something.
For now he'd let her sleep. Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he wished her sweet dreams.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
"Do you usually eat in your rooms like this?" she asked, setting down her fork and wiping her mouth with the napkin.
"No. Only when I don't wish to be disturbed."
"This was really good. I'm so full."
He was glad she'd eaten so much. She'd lost most of her breakfast that morning. "I am too. What would you like to do while our food digests? Collapse into a motionless lump in front of the fire?"
She smiled. "That sounds lovely."
Severus breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her smile. So much had befallen her recently. He knew she just needed time to heal, but he didn’t want her to associate the holidays with pain and loss. The plan had been for her to use the time off as a chance to recover, but somehow her break had become more emotionally draining than her job. He had an idea that might lift her spirits, but he didn't know how she would react. Would it remind her how sad she was, or would it remind her how happy she could be?
Rising from the tiny table, he held out his hand to her. She took it, and Snape led her over to the love seat. “Just give me a second. I think I have something you'll like."
Hermione was feeling a lot better than she had earlier. That nap had been more restorative than she could have ever imagined. Crookshanks had been in her dream, trotting beside her as she walked through the dungeons just as he had when he was younger. He seemed quite happy. When they got to Snape’s room, the door had been open; and they walked right in. Snape was asleep in the chair by the fire, and Crooks had hopped into his lap with the spring of a tiger. Curling into an orange ball, he got comfortable and began to purr. The sound rumbled around the room like thunder. Crooks blinked slowly, hypnotizing her with his yellow eyes; and her brain went all foggy and relaxed. With a secretive meow, he pawed Snape’s leg. Hermione thought it looked as though he was petting the Potions master. With one final yawn, Crooks closed his eyes and disappeared. She’d knelt down on the floor, searching everywhere for him; but he wasn’t in Snape’s quarters. Dream Snape had woken then, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Hermione? What are you doing here, dear?” Even in her dream she was flabbergasted he’d say such a thing. She’d woken up to find the real Snape stroking her face and whispering her name.
The calm happiness of the dream followed her into the waking world.
Although there was still an empty spot where Crookshanks used to be, she no longer felt he was really gone. That body they had buried wasn't the real Crooks. That was just a shell. The real Crookshanks was still alive in her memory and, as Hagrid had said, in her heart. She felt as though he’d simply gone out hunting and wasn’t back yet. He wasn't dead, he just wasn't physically there with her.
Soft music floated through the air, and Hermione turned around to see where the sound had come from. Snape had set an old wireless on the table behind the love seat, and its dated arches stared back at her like wide eyes. Twiddling the knobs, he stopped when he heard a familiar song. She couldn't help smiling. Celestina Warbeck sure knew how to sing about Christmas cauldrons. Snape waved his wand once, and all the lights went out except for the fire.
Severus dug through a drawer in the small chest next to the settee and found what he was looking for. Minerva gave him the same thing every year. He'd put them to good use now. Breaking open the envelope, he dumped the miniscule balls into his cupped palm. They looked like red and green candy, except there were a few gold ones mixed in that were more like ball bearings. He rubbed them briskly between his palms and tossed them into the air. The effect was nicer than he'd anticipated. Bright multi-colored lights floated around the room like freeform tree lights. It was festive. And slightly romantic. He didn't want her to think he was trying to take advantage of her in her sad state, but he did want to remind her what time of year it was.
Hermione stared up at the glowing lights, grinning in delight. "What's going on?"
"I just wanted you to remember it's Christmas."
"We should have brought my tree."
Snape took a small box from his valise and removed the lid. He set a tiny tree in the corner near the fire and aimed his wand at it. "You mean like this?"
Hermione laughed as his prepackaged tree swelled to full size. It was already decorated, and the ornaments twinkled in the glow of its warm lights. "Where did you get that?"
"Gretchen had them for sale near the bar. You didn't see them?"
"No. But this is perfect, Severus. Come sit with me."
He took his place next to her and slid his arm around her shoulders. The decorations were incongruent with the dark dungeon decor, but the room did look cheery.
"This is so pretty. I've never used Levitating Lights before. How long do they last?"
"The envelope said eight hours, but I have about twenty more envelopes. Minerva's always trying to make the dungeons more welcoming at Christmas.”
Hermione smiled and pulled her feet up next to her and curled into him. Her multiple layers of clothing weren't allowing much contact, but she felt close to him nonetheless. His hand went from her shoulder to her head, stroking her hair just the way she liked.
Severus sat there with her for a couple hours, listening to one song after another. Normally he would have been bored by such mindless lazing about, but in all that stillness he found a peace that he usually only felt after a marathon of fucking. She’d drawn his other hand into his lap and was tracing the backs of his fingers like a whisper. Her touch left his skin tingling. Turning over his hand, he let her repeat her tickle-y exploration on his palm.
When the Weird Sisters' version of Frosty the Snowman came over the wireless, Hermione started silently laughing. Thinking about Snape trying to fuck her to the tune was hilarious. She couldn't stop picturing him in that big bed behind them, snapping his hips into her on the beat.
"I know what you're thinking, and it's not happening," he muttered.
"I didn't say anything," she replied innocently.
He lifted his hand from her hair and ran one finger along her cheek. ”Are you feeling better?"
She nodded. "You mean about Crookshanks?"
"And your parents.”
She'd forgotten her parents in the confusion of finding Crookshanks. Looking up at him, she felt a sudden pang of remorse and fear. "Everyone's leaving me," she whispered.
Snape clasped her hand in his. "I'm not."
"But you will one day." He was just with her because of their agreement. He had gone above the call of duty, accompanying her on her trip and helping her with Crookshanks; but she didn't know if he was just doing that to be a good dom or because he was her friend. Or both. Or more.
Snape could see her thoughts beginning to race. He needed to keep her from traveling to the land of imagined doom. “How about we do something different? Would you like to dance?"
She couldn't help smiling. If he was trying to make her feel better, it was working. His calmness was contagious. "Dance?"
"We'll have our own Yule Ball," he suggested. "Come on. I know this atrocious music is getting under your skin. Your toes have been wiggling to the beat for the past hour."
Hermione wouldn't mind dancing. Anything to keep him touching her. She didn't want to be alone. Not even for a second. He guided her into a clear area of the floor and drew her close, his hand at her waist. His other hand held hers, and he started a slow circle, swaying to the sounds of Buzzy Bulocks's Winter Wonderland.
"This is even better than Halloween," she sighed, resting her head on his chest.
He was in complete agreement. "Is it? In what way?"
Because I know you better now, and you care about me. ”It’s just us here . . . in each others arms. And these lights make your room look like we're in a dream. Don't you think it's nice?"
He looked down at her. "Yes." It wasn't the lights or the music. It was nice because she was there.
"You're a very good dancer," she told him, letting her hand trail from his shoulder to the firm planes of his chest.
"Thank you.” And I haven’t even had a sip of eggnog. Perhaps later he’d show her his dip.
They covered the floor several times over, somehow pressing even closer than when they'd started. One of her fingers slid between the buttons of his shirt, tickling his bare skin. His eyelids drooped, drugged by her soft touch. It wasn't remotely sexual, but his cock didn’t get the memo. It twitched in time to the beat. They might have been twitches of jealousy, but Snape suspected his dick was warming to her affection just as much as the rest of him.
Hermione didn't know dancing could be like this. In some ways it was more intimate than shagging. His hand had crept up the back of her jumper, and his roving fingers were warm and smooth. He kept running his thumb along her spine, right in the curve of her back. It made her stomach shiver. She wanted to stay like that forever.
"Do you want to take a bath before dinner?" he murmured.
"With you?"
He smiled. “I could use a good scrubbing."
"Can we make the lights come in there with us?"
Smirking, he nodded. "Bathtub Christmas lights. An untapped market. I'll see what I can do."

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
The bath had lulled her into a groggy stupor. The change in timezones was getting to her; she was ready for bed.
But the lights were so pretty. And he was being so sweet. He was currently drying her off, staring at her with enough heat to pop her clit like a chestnut in an open fire. If she hadn't been so sleepy, she would have been all over him.
"Did you bring pajamas, pet?"
Hermione nodded.
"Let's put them on and have dinner."
"Can we take them back off for bed?"
His lips curled into a small grin. “I knew there was a reason you were on the naughty list.”

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Hermione dropped her spoon for the third time, the clank snapping her awake. "Oh!"
"All right, pet?"
"I'm so bloody tired. What time is it?"
He looked at the clock, squinting as it swirled in his vision. "I think it's 7:30."
"I'm too tired to eat."
He set down his fork, his food half-finished. "Me too."
"Let's go to bed."
He nodded. They both stumbled toward his bed, Snape kicking off his slippers as he arrived. He peeled off her top then knelt down and pulled her snowflake pajama bottoms to the floor. Her pussy was so cute. He leaned in and kissed her mound goodnight.
Hermione smiled, straining to keep her eyes open. "Come on. You too. I don't want to be the only one naked."
Severus stood and pulled off his dressing gown then started unbuttoning his pajama top. When his fingers wouldn't cooperate, he gave up and just pulled it over his head. She pushed his pajamas to his feet, and his balls contracted in the cold. She kindly cupped his package in one hand, warming him in her hot palm. He smirked at her as he stepped out of his pooled pajamas.
Patting her bum, he nodded at the bed. "Climb in, pet."
They slipped between the sheets, and she settled next to him, wrapping her arm around his chest and resting her head on him just the way she did when they stayed at her flat. He pulled the covers up over them and put his arm around her.
"Leave on the tree," she mumbled. "Or else Father Christmas won't find us."
He snickered. "All right."
"Night, Severus. Happy Christmas."
"Goodnight, Hermione." He kissed the top of her head. "See you in the morning."
She was already snoring softly.
Snape grinned and closed his eyes. Who needed visions of sugarplums dancing in their head when he had a naked Granger nestled snug in his bed.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Hermione blinked open her eyes. The room was glowing with the last remaining white Levitating Lights they'd used in the bath the night before. The tree was still lit, and she sat up, looking around. There were presents at the foot of the bed, shining and decked with bows. Rubbing her eyes, she checked on Severus. He was still asleep.
Careful not to wake him, she climbed out of his bed and headed for the loo. Her bladder was bursting. The cold stone floor bit at her bare feet as she dashed to the bathroom. Her entire body was one big goose pimple. She checked the time on her way back. Six o'clock in the morning. That wasn't too bad. They'd gotten some decent sleep. She crept back to the warmth of the bed, sliding under the covers with him so she'd stop shivering.
Snape reached out and placed his hand on her thigh. "You all right?" he rasped.
"Just needed the loo."
"You're shaking."
"It's cold in here."
Without opening his eyes, Snape pulled out his wand and aimed it at the fireplace. New logs floated to the grate and burst into a roaring flame. He put his wand back under his pillow and held out his arm to her. "I'll get you warm."
Hermione snuggled into him, sighing happily as he pulled up the covers and hugged her.
"What time is it?" he croaked, his voice rustier than usual.
"A little after six."
"Are you awake or going back to sleep?"
"I think I'm awake. But you can go back to sleep if you want. I like being in bed with you."
He smiled. "Did Father Christmas bring you what you wanted?"
She hugged him harder. "Yes."
Severus opened one eye and looked down at her head. "He did? What?"
"You."
He smiled and slid his hand under her hair, stroking her neck. "No refunds."
Laughing, Hermione kissed his chest. "I got you something. Do you want to open it now?"
Snape rolled his head around, cracking his neck and waking up a bit more. "All right. You open yours too." He picked up his head and looked down the bed. "Where'd all this come from?"
"Dunno," she mumbled, petting his chest hair and nuzzling his heart.
"Accio Hermione's present." Three quarters of the packages zoomed to her side. "Well aren't you popular?"
Hermione looked at the pile of shining presents. "Who're all these from?"
"Open them and find out."
Hermione turned over and picked up the first one. "This one is from Harry and Ginny and James. How did it get here?"
"The house-elves."
"Right. Why didn't I think of that?"
"Who're the others from?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley . . . Ron . . . Hagrid—oh no, I didn't get him anything."
"Open them. Let's see what you got."
Hermione opened Hagrid's first. It was wrapped in what appeared to be tinfoil and red twine. Grinning at Hagrid's excessive use of Spellotape, she ripped it open and smiled when she saw the picture inside. It was was a photo of Fang and Crookshanks, both of them stretched out in front of Hagrid's fireplace. She didn't have many pictures of Crooks. This was perfect. "I'll have to make him something."
"Like what?"
She shrugged. "I'll think of something."
Tearing open the next box, she found a pretty light blue sweater and a plate of cookies made by Mrs. Weasley. She would have put on the jumper, but she wanted to keep being naked with Severus. Ron had gotten her the new book that had just come out on ancient runes. She'd been wanting that. The Potters had gotten her a floating book rest that would stay in place wherever you wanted to read. She loved it. Now she could masturbate in the tub without getting her book wet.
Severus picked up one of his two presents while she smoothed out her wrapping paper and folded it into perfect squares. He checked the card on the first box he came to. Minerva. Opening it, he was surprised to find a bottle of champagne. For you and a "friend." Happy Christmas. He set it on the bedside table and picked up the other box.
"That's from me," she informed him with a gleeful grin.
He slid off the red velvet ribbon and pulled the lid from the box. Wrapped in gold tissue paper, he found a tattered, old book. He should have guessed. Opening the cover, he did a double take. "Is this a first edition?"
She nodded, biting her lips so she wouldn't ask if he liked it or not. His face was unreadable.
Snape ran his finger over the title page. Potions Artistry by Nathaniel Neubaum. His old Potions master. The only book he'd ever written. There were only a handful of them still in existence. "Where on earth did you find this?"
"A private seller."
"How did you know?"
"Your mastery license in on file at the Ministry. I called in some favors."
"This is . . . extremely valuable. You can't afford something like this. I don't want you going hungry because you bought me a book."
She smiled. "I had some galleons saved. And the seller was willing to give me a good deal."
"I love this, Hermione. I mean it. I never thought I'd see this book for myself."
"Good!" she exclaimed, beaming brightly. "I got some sexy Christmas knickers too, but that's a present for both of us."
He grinned at her delighted expression and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Where's my present to you?"
She held up the little box. "I was saving it for last."
"Go on. I know you're about to burst with curiosity."
Hermione pulled off the black ribbon. It went nicely with the red wrapping paper. She lifted the lid and smiled. It was a delicate gold locket, a filigree H etched in its center. "It's lovely, Severus."
"Open it."
She gently pulled it from the box's velvet lining and slid her nail along the seam at the side, popping it open. Her parents' faces smiled back at her from each interior circle. She blinked hard, biting her lip to hold back the tears.
"It's okay. I won't feel bad if you cry."
Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, wiping her tears on his bare shoulder. "I love it," she whispered. "Thank you."
He held her tightly and waited for her to calm down. When she let out a deep shuddering sigh, he kissed the side of her face. "Let me put it on for you."
Hermione handed him the locket and lifted her hair. He strung it around her neck and fastened the clasp for her. Hugging him again, she changed her mind about this being the most horrid Christmas ever. She may have lost Crookshanks, but she had gained Severus. She wondered if Crookshanks had been waiting for her to find someone who could fill the void his death left behind. Maybe that was what Crooks had been trying to tell her in her dream.
"Would you like breakfast?" Severus asked, stretching out on his side.
"Naked breakfast?"
He snorted softly. "A happy Christmas indeed."

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
They'd finally managed to put on some clothes after a long, lazy breakfast in bed; and Hermione had been rifling through his personal library ever since. Her exploration was going on three hours now. She had on the jumper Mrs. Weasley had knitted for her. Little white snowflakes dotted the icy blue background.
Snape wanted to go over there and see if her nipples were still frozen solid. Later. He didn't want to push her after all the upheaval of Australia and Crookshanks. She would come to him when she wanted more. For the time being, he was quite content to watch her flipping through his collection of books. The bibliophile in him was aroused by the sight of her thumbing through each tome, her brow furrowed in concentration, her wet pink tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth. Her jeans were breathtakingly tight, and he was getting an eyeful every time she bent over. There was plenty to be happy about this Christmas.
Severus went back to the book she'd given him, watching her from the corner of his eye. He was duly impressed with her gift. Not only was the book rare, which would have been striking enough on its own, but it was also personally significant. He was touched that she had gone to so much trouble.
A faded inscription was scrawled across the inside front cover. Abraxas, Many thanks for your patronage. Without you this book would not have been possible. —Nathaniel (1938)
Abraxas? Malfoy? Had she bought this from Draco? He'd ask the younger Malfoy about it the next time he saw him. Had she told Draco the book was for him? She must not have. He hadn't heard anything from Draco in weeks. Surely he would have said something.
Severus glanced at her again. She seemed so much better today. He was shocked that she'd rebounded from Crooks's death so quickly. It was obvious that she wasn't totally better, but she wasn't broken either. Could she survive another stressor, or was he being too selfish? He wanted to take her to the feast, but that would require a full tank of fortitude. She might be running low. Could she deal with the stares and whispers? Would everyone turn on him when they realized he was bedding their Golden Girl? Maybe it was time to bite the bullet. He was tired of keeping this to himself. Privacy was important to him, but he didn't like hiding her. She was the best thing in his life. Why would he want to conceal that?
"Would you like to go to the feast in the Great Hall?" he asked.
Hermione looked up from her title-skimming. "You mean with everybody?"
He nodded. "We don't have to. But the food is good, and we could actually see the sun."
"Everyone will see us together. Are you sure you want that?"
"I'm okay with it if you are. I don't mind a few stares and glares. I'm sure Minerva will have something to say. Can you handle that?"
She couldn't believe he was willing to just announce their involvement so casually. "Uh . . . sure. What are we going to say to everyone?"
"What did you tell Hagrid yesterday?"
"That we were sort of seeing each other and it was complicated."
"So we'll say the same thing now. Although, we should probably leave out the details about what all we've seen."
Hermione grinned. "I'll get my shoes."

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
They walked hand in hand to the Great Hall, and Hermione felt a tremor of anxiety twinge in her gut. Getting others' approval wouldn't change how she felt about Severus, but being shunned would hurt. She was proud to be with him, not ashamed. He was the best thing in her life right now, and she wanted other people to know that.
Snape squeezed her trembling hand as they approached the door to the Great Hall. She looked up at him and gave him a reassuring smile. They could hear the quiet chatter of the remaining faculty and students. Everyone sounded jolly and in good spirits.
This was it.
Hermione couldn't stop the blush from burning her face as they quietly made their way to the head table where everyone was sitting. The closer they got, the more the talk died. By the time they reached the table, it was dead silent. The snow falling from the room’s charmed ceiling was the only movement.
Neville was frozen in mid-bite, staring at their joined hands with a look of horror; his meatball rolled off his fork and fell to his plate, breaking the silence with a wet splat. All the teachers were openly speechless, their eyes wide, eyebrows hiked to their hairlines. The students looked just as shocked, but their eyes darted around, seeing how everyone else was reacting.
"Is there room for one more?" Severus asked.
McGonagall's lips twitched, holding her tongue until she knew just what was going on. "Miss Granger?" This was Snape's secret tryst?
“Hello, Professor McGonagall. I mean Headmistress.” Hermione smiled hesitantly.
“Of course there’s room for one more,” Flitwick said quickly. “Plenty to go round.”
Snape let out a internal sigh of relief. They went around the table to Snape’s usual seat, and he pulled out the chair for her. When she was seated next to McGonagall, a new plate appeared; and he pulled over one of the spare chairs for himself. The room was eerily quiet. He gave them all a dark look and began to serve himself, putting some glazed goose on her plate so she’d start eating.
“Has everyone been having a nice Christmas?” Hermione asked in an attempt to break the awkward silence.
The kids all nodded dumbly, their eyes going from the celebrity in their midst to their dour professor . . . then over to the puckered headmistress. This was more exciting than a Quidditch match.
Minerva took a sip of her wine, trying to think what to say. “Yes. Lovely. How has yours been?”
Hermione didn’t want to lie. “It’s been good and bad. Crookshanks died. Hagrid buried him in his garden next to Fang for me.”
Minerva’s face softened. “I’m so sorry. How are you doing?”
Hermione managed a small smile. “Better now. Hagrid gave him a funeral, and Severus carved him nice headstone.”
“He did?” Minerva glanced past Hermione to watch Snape for a second. He was putting food on both their plates, ignoring the rest of the table. “How thoughtful.”
“Yes—” Hermione smiled—"it was.”
Minerva lowered her voice so they wouldn't be so easily heard. “How are your parents, dear? I know you go to see them this time of year.”
Hermione picked up her knife and spread some jam on the roll Snape had put on her plate. “They’re just the same. Severus went with me to check on them this year.”
Minerva was dumbfounded. She’d thought Snape was just tomcatting with some new obsession. They seemed more like a real couple.
“It was easier with someone else there,” Hermione confessed. “He kept me from getting too mental. And he’s a good spy,” she added with a small grin. “He got us a table right next to them at a restaurant. It was like I was eating with them.”
McGonagall smiled at her wistful expression. “I had no idea you two were so close.”
Hermione poured some gravy over her mashed potatoes. “I guess we are now.”
“Are you two . . . seeing each other?”
“Yes.” Hermione smiled broadly at her plate. "Seeing each other" was the safest way to explain what they were doing.
“And you’re . . . happy?”
“Very." Hermione glanced at Snape. He kept his face blank, but under the table his leg touched hers.
“Are you staying here for the holidays?”
Snape answered before Hermione could. “Yes, she is.”
“Perhaps I’ll come and see you. I’d love to hear what you’ve been doing at the Ministry.” And with Snape.
Hermione smiled. “We’ll probably go to bed early tonight.”
Neville choked on his meatball.
“The change in timezones threw us," Hermione explained, biting back her laugh. "We woke up early this morning.”
Sprout slapped Neville on the back, and he nodded and waved his hand to say he was all right.
Minerva watched the couple from the corner of her eye as they ate. They somehow made it seem as though they were having a quiet candle-lit dinner for two. The intimacy between them was startling. And she wasn't the only one who noticed. The rest of the table whispered excitedly amongst themselves, and the topic of discussion wasn't difficult to guess.
This would be all over the school when the students came back.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
By the time the feast had ended, the staring had become less overt. Severus was relieved that things had gone so well. While he didn't particularly care what everyone thought of him, there was a small part of him that wanted to prove he was normal. Worthy. A witch cared about him. And not just any witch, a witch whom everyone else adored.
She was beside him now, walking through the halls, holding his hand where everyone could see them. He suddenly felt freer than he had in years. His heart wasn't dragging, it was bounding out of his chest, ready to take on the world. But he didn't give a shit about the world. He gave a shit about her. He wanted to take her back to his room and curl up with her in his bed. They could do whatever she wanted. Read. Kiss. Talk. He didn't care so long as he was with her.
He'd seen the looks on everyone's faces during the feast. They’d all been watching and waiting. Waiting for him to sneer at her. Waiting for him to lose his temper. Waiting for him to be Snape. Well, the joke was on them. She was the one person he was never short with. She kept him on an even keel, unaffected by life's trivialities.
“Maybe I should go talk to McGonagall,” Hermione said softly, drawing him from his thoughts. “Do you think she’s upset with us?”
“No, I think she’s concerned about you.”
“I don’t want to cause any problems for you. Maybe I could smooth things over.”
“If you want to talk to her, that’s up to you. Don’t feel as though you have to fight my battles for me.”
“I’ll go find her. Why don’t you put up some more lights in the room. I’d like to go dancing with you again when I get back.”
He smirked. “I look forward to that.”

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Hermione made her way to the stone gargoyle with a smile on her face. She could still feel Snape's lips against hers. They'd just meant to kiss each other goodbye, but things had somehow gotten out of hand. They'd been sealed together, snogging in the hallway, when they heard muffled giggling coming from around the corner. Apparently they were being spied on. They'd reluctantly parted, and Snape had whispered McGonagall's password in her ear as she left.
Scanning the hall to make sure she was alone, Hermione muttered, “Tartan Plaid.”
The gargoyle turned, revealing the spiral steps. They lifted her to the landing, and she stepped off, preparing to knock. She paused when she heard McGonagall’s voice through the thick wood.
“You should have seen them, Albus. It was disturbing. He’s twice her age, and you know how Snape is. She gave me the impression that he’s been helping her, but how long do you think that will last? He’s going to break that poor girl’s heart. The nicer he is to her, the harder it’s going to be when he leaves her.”
“What makes you think he’ll leave her?”
Hermione pressed her ear to the door and held her breath. The portrait was much quieter than McGonagall.
“What are you suggesting? That they’re going to get married? You know Snape as well as I do. As soon as things get too emotional, he’ll run.”
“Will he? I can't say I'm entirely certain of that."
“I should go talk to her. Maybe it’s not as serious as I think.”
“Aren’t you happy for her?”
“Happy? That she’s seeing an emotionally unavailable man? That he’s probably using her for Merlin-knows-what? I can’t imagine how they even lasted this long. How does she put up with him?”
“Perhaps they have both changed in ways we know nothing about. She’s no longer a child, Minerva. If she finds pleasure in his company, I don’t see why you would want to take that from her.”
Hermione knocked before the conversation could continue. There was some whispering and then the door creaked open. McGonagall blinked out at her, obviously surprised by her arrival.
"Miss Granger?" Minerva's voice softened. "Is something wrong?"
"I wanted to talk to you. Are you busy?"
"Not at all," Minerva said, stepping back so Hermione could come in. "Please sit down. Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you. I'm too stuffed from the feast." Hermione sat in one of the upholstered antique chairs placed before the fire. McGonagall took the other one. All the portraits were either pretending to be asleep or watching them with interest. Dumbledore's painting smiled at her and waved. She waved back. "I wanted to come to you and explain things. I didn't want you to get the wrong idea about Severus."
Minerva studied the young witch before her. The improvements in her appearance were undeniable. She was glowing. "I didn't want to press you in front of the entire hall, but I am concerned."
"I know you are. That's why I wanted to come and tell you we're getting on very well together, and he's helping me in so many ways. He's not using me. If anything, I'm using him."
Minerva's thin eyebrows rose. "In what way?"
Hermione told her lips not to smile. McGonagall was going to get the wrong impression. Or the right one. "He comes over and makes me feel better when I have a bad day. He takes care of me. And he doesn't ask for anything in return."
"Are you saying you're just friends?"
Hermione shook her head. "No . . . and yes. I think we are friends now, but it's more than that."
"So you're seriously seeing each other?"
"Um . . . sort of. We are exclusive, but . . . he's not my boyfriend. But he is my friend. I care about him, and he cares about me. That's why he went with me to Australia, to be there for me. And when we came home and found Crookshanks, it was Severus who took care of everything and suggested we have Hagrid bury him. He's been nothing but supportive."
Minerva let those words sink in for a second. "That doesn't sound like the Severus I know."
"I would have said the same thing three months ago, but when he's with me, he's nothing like he used to be. He's calm. And kind. He told me he doesn't want to be that way with anybody else. I don't understand it myself, but I think I'm the only person he lets down his guard around. At first it blew my mind every time he hugged me, but now I'm used to him being nice."
"Severus hugged you?"
Hermione smiled. "He hugs me all the time. And he's really good at it."
Minerva glanced over at Albus's portrait. He was petting his beard with a small smile on his face. She knew that look. He enjoyed being right. She sighed and looked back at Hermione. "Why do you think he's treating you this way?"
"He says it's because I let him and that he trusts me. And I think he's telling the truth. I think taking care of me makes him feel better—and that makes me feel better too. He's looking out for me. And I want to look out for him. I want him to see that the world isn't all death and pain."
"That's a heavy burden for one witch to carry, Hermione. It isn't your responsibility to rehabilitate him."
"I'm not. He came to me like this. I'm just nurturing what's already there. And I'm glad he didn't get that same advice, because he is rehabilitating me."
"What do you mean?"
"He makes me go to bed at a decent hour, he's trying to break my habit of obsessive cleaning, he's slowly convincing me that I shouldn't blame myself for the deaths during the final battle, he's helping me accept my parents' memory loss, and even though it makes me uncomfortable, he's trying to make me see that I'm fine just the way I am. He tells me I'm beautiful and smart. And, to him, I am. Just like he is to me."
Minerva gave her an encouraging smile. "Of course you're smart and beautiful. What ever made you think you weren't?"
The burning behind Hermione's eyes flared to life, and she blinked, looking away. "I haven't been okay for a long time. I survive. I fight. I do my job, and I love it," she added hastily. "But . . . I've been so lost. I forgot how to be myself. I didn't know how unhappy I was until I started seeing Severus. It was like he woke up something inside me."
"I want you to be happy, dear," McGonagall whispered. She'd had no idea Hermione was struggling so much. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. What are you going to do if this support he's giving you is suddenly taken away?"
"It would be difficult,” Hermione conceded. “But he's promised not to leave me like that. He won't go until he knows I have someone else to lean on."
McGonagall nodded. Whatever they had was more involved than she'd thought. "If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here for you. Do your friends know about the two of you?"
"Ginny and Luna do . . . but Ron and Harry don't. I'll tell them soon. It's difficult to explain to people."
McGonagall thought that might be putting it lightly. What they had was difficult to explain because it was so vague. You couldn't build a relationship on "sort of " or "yes and no." If Snape meant more to her, Hermione would figure it out. She just hoped Severus came to the same revelation Hermione did.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Hermione opened the door to his private room and laughed in delight. He must have set off all the Levitation Lights he had. The room was filled with a warm rainbow glow. "Severus, where are you? It's like Paris in here."
His head popped up from the other side of the bed. "You're back early. I didn't expect you for another hour."
Hermione spun around in the lights, grinning as they swirled in her slipstream. "I wanted to get back to you. What are you doing?"
"Putting away some things," he said, closing the drawer under his bed. He stood and came around to her. "How did it go?"
Hermione nodded. "I think I swayed her opinion on us. Once she heard how much you've been helping me, she stopped looking so sour."
A miracle indeed. "And just what did you tell her?"
"Everything that wasn't sexual."
That's what he was worried about. "She'd better not expect me to treat everyone else the way I treat you."
"I told her you only did it for me." Hermione slid her arms around his waist and leaned her cheek to his chest. "She liked the locket you got me."
"Mmm," he mumbled, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "Do you still want to dance or should we rest for a bit?"
"Are we going to dance with our clothes on?"
Snape looked down at her, tipping up her chin so he could see her eyes. "Are you feeling better? Or are you trying to chase away your grief with the help of my cock?"
Hermione smiled and leaned into his palm. "I had a dream about Crookshanks. I know it sounds mad, but it made me feel better. I'm still a bit sad, but I don't feel as though someone shot a bludger through my stomach anymore. I've never had a dream that left me so calm. It was weird . . . but good. Has that ever happened to you?"
"Yes," he whispered. He didn't elaborate. That dream he'd had about Lily five months ago was still vividly etched in his mind. She'd forgiven him. And she'd told him to forgive himself. She'd said he was dishonoring her memory by clinging to the pain, that she would never have wished such loneliness on the boy who was once her friend. Before she left, she kissed the center of his forehead, and he'd woken, still able to feel her breath on his brow. The weight in his chest had vanished with that parting kiss. He'd felt like a new man. His slate seemed to have been wiped clean. All with one dream.
Two months later, just when he'd been starting to wonder what he was supposed to do with his newfound freedom, he had seen Granger's ad in The Daily Prophet. He could have chosen to turn the page. But for the first time since his resuscitation, he was ready to give life a chance.
The spanking was a bonus.
"I want to do whatever makes you happy," he murmured, kissing the center of her forehead the same way Lily had kissed his. "Did you still want that Christmas spanking? Or did you just want to get naked and go back to bed?"
She smiled into his snow-white shirt. "I do want a spanking, and I have something for you as well."
"I don't want a Christmas spanking."
Hermione grinned up at him and slid her hands to his arse. "That wasn't what I had in mind. I just want to look festive."
"Jingle bell pasties?"
She laughed, shaking her head no. "Sorry. It's just lingerie."
"Put it on. This room isn't nearly festive enough."
"It looks lovely," she sighed happily. "This Christmas would have been horrid without you, Severus. Thank you for everything."
He nodded and kissed her again. "You're welcome, love. Go put on your underwear . . . and I'll take it back off for you."
"Did you just call me love?" she asked quietly.
Bollocks! "Would you prefer I didn't?"
She shook her head. "I fancied it. I like it when you call me pet too."
He smirked. "I know. Now, stop stalling and go change. I'm looking forward to some Christmas cheer."
Hermione smiled and kissed his chest. "Just give me a few minutes."
Snape watched her dash over to her bag and sneak something out of it. She went to the bathroom, and he sat on the love seat to wait for her. He didn't want to tell her that he'd called her love by mistake. Or maybe it wasn't a mistake. It had rolled off his tongue so easily. He'd called all of his subs pet. But never love. Despite its prevalence in everyday conversations, it wasn't a term he was comfortable using...or hearing. But saying it to her came naturally, as if he'd been calling everyone love his entire life. He'd had the urge to use the word with her before, he just didn't fight it this time.
Severus unbuttoned his shirt and cuffs while he waited for her. He could hear her moving about in the bathroom, getting pretty for him. He was touched. She'd obviously purchased whatever she was putting on prior to their trip to Australia. She'd planned this. She wanted to do something special for him. No one had ever put so much effort into his happiness before.
She came out of the bathroom, and he blinked stupidly for few seconds. That wasn't underwear. The top part was like a bra, but the rest was more like a short gauzy dress. It was as red as a holly berry. As she came closer, he could see the bow tied beneath her breasts. It was a wrapping-job that put all other presents to shame. “What do you call this?”
She smoothed her hand down the front. “A babydoll? Do you like it?”
Like it? Like did not begin to express his feelings about that article of clothing. “You’re beautiful,” he rasped. “Come here.”
A smile lit her face as he pulled her to stand between his spread legs. His eyes ran up and down her body, and her nipples hardened behind the soft cups of her nightie as his heated gaze tickled her skin.
“Turn around.”
She did a slow turn and felt his hands petting the curve of her arse.
“Nice,” he muttered, lifting the edge of her skirt with one finger, just checking to see what she had going on under there. Her knickers were the same deep red, small and sheer. He couldn’t wait to take them off her. “Keep turning.”
She faced him again. He looked quite handsome in the warm, glowing light. It made her heart stumble in her chest.
Snape pulled her in closer, and his eyes caught hers as he slid his hands up the back of her thighs. “You look perfect, pet. Red is definitely your color. Let’s see if we can make your bottom match.”
Hermione smiled and nodded in agreement. “Please pull down my panties and give me a nice long spanking on my bare bottom, sir.”
Snape bit his tongue to keep from laughing. She hadn’t even needed any prompting that time; she’d asked for it all on her own. “Get over my knee, little girl. I want those pretty red knickers nice and wet before I pull them down.”
Hermione’s stomach flipped in excitement as she got over his lap.
He pushed up the back of her nightie and patted her backside.
“This is just round one,” he told her. “We’ll go as long as you like.”
He slapped her bum, and the sudden sting made her jump. Her skin went all warm and tingly, which immediately caused her hips to grind in pleasure. Her body knew what that sting meant. It was time to turn on the sprinkler system. Every new smack made her wince and then wish for more. She was grateful he didn’t get any rougher. The impact was perfect. If he wanted to see how wet her knickers could get, he was going to be delighted with the creamery frothing between her legs. She could already feel the juice slipping between her lips.
A placid smile stole over Snape’s face as he smacked her bum. Those little knickers were no help to her at all—but they were doing quite a lot for him. Her wiggling dance was made all the more tantalizing by the mystery of those sheer layers. She was Salome and the seven veils. She was Cleopatra. She was his Aphrodite.
The ripple of her flesh under his hand was mesmerizing. Smack. Wobble. Smack. Wobble. Perfect. He turned her bum a deep shade of pink, watching the color develop before his eyes. Christmas couldn’t get much merrier.
“Please, sir!” she begged after a solid ten minutes.
He stopped and rubbed her smoldering cheeks. “What is it, pet? Do you need it harder?”
“I’m so wet, sir. Please touch me.”
“Are these Christmas panties full of good tidings already? Let’s see.” He peeled her knickers over her red bum and grinned at the mess she’d made. “What’s all this, Miss Granger? It looks as though you’re having a very happy holiday . . . or someone spilled eggnog in your knickers. I'd better get these off you straight away.”
She lifted her hips and whimpered as he slowly pulled down her knickers. He set them on the seat beside him, and she could smell her own excitement drifting through the air.
“Spread those legs, little girl. I want to see that pretty little cunt shining like the star on that tree.”
Hermione spread her legs as wide as she could.
Snape smirked. “That’s it. Arch that bottom into the air.” He rubbed her rounded rump as she responded. “I think you need a little more spanking before we move on, but let's check to be sure.”
Hermione groaned as his finger traced her slit. Her labia was already pulling open, encouraging his penetration. She could hear him wading through her folds. The sound was embarrassingly delicious.
“Look how wet my little Gryffindor is tonight,” he purred in a low voice. “You love this, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” she panted.
“Say it.”
“I love it when you spank me, sir. Please put your fingers inside me.”
He nodded. “I’ll finger you while I finish this up. Are you ready for the next round?”
“Yes, sir!”
He slid through her juice with ease, and her muscles clamped around him, holding his fingers inside her. Reaching over with his other hand, he patted her bouncy bum. “Let’s make these a little bit harder.”
She was too excited to speak. All that came out was a squeak of agreement.
Smack! His fingers curled inside her as each blow landed. Smack! This was one hell of a Christmas show. Fuck the Nutcracker—this deserved a stage in the West End. He could watch her every night. And matinees. Smack! The dance of the Sugarplum Fairies couldn’t hold a candle to her. And she didn’t need a spotlight with that gleam glowing between her legs. His hand was already shining with her talents.
Smack! Hermione cried out. She was about to lose it. Smack! The sound of his hand slapping her arse was turning her on. But the sound of her own moaning excited her even more. He transformed her into a carnal goddess like no one else. He was the only man who could make her feel safe and wanton all in the same second. She could be a sobbing mess, and he would still fuck her as if she were the sexiest woman on the planet. Whether she was submissive or playful, he seemed to want it all. She was about one minute away from finding out if he could take the aggressive side of her too. “Unnnnh!”
His cock strained against his fly. It was almost time to ream that glazed cherry wreath.
“Please stop, sir. I want to come with you inside me.”
He froze, and a slow smile spread over his face. “That sounds like a Christmas wish I can fulfill.”
Hermione got off his lap as fast as possible. She was unzipping him in record time. His dick sprang out of his fly like an obscene jack-in-the-box. He lifted his hips for her, and she tugged his trousers to his knees. She didn’t have the patience to pull them off completely before climbing aboard. He seemed to be mildly amused by her sudden ardor, but his face betrayed nothing more revealing.
Until she sank down on him.
When his cock pierced her, he grunted and grabbed hold of her hips; his lip curled back in a hiss. With her hands braced on his shoulders, Hermione impaled herself on his staff, whispering his name as he filled her. The feeling was exquisite. She was so wet she was dripping down his shaft like ice cream in a heat wave. She ground her hips into him, and they both moaned in unison.
Severus didn’t know what had gotten into her, but he was reaping the rewards. She started to ride him, her bum tapping his thighs with a muffled clap each time she descended. He growled and held onto her as she pounded them to glory.
They both jumped as the wireless suddenly clicked on and broke the heated silence.
“Frosty the snowman had to hurry on his way. But he waved goodbye saying, ‘Don’t you cry. I’ll be back again someday.'”
Hermione’s lips twitched into a laugh. “Did you do that?”
“Most certainly not. I told you this song wasn’t conducive to fucking. Look how you’ve lost your rhythm.”
She smiled wickedly as the next song started. “I’ve got it back now.”
“Run Run, Rudolph. Santa’s gotta make it to town.”
He choked on his snicker as she picked up the driving beat. Fuck! He was wrong. Shagging to Christmas songs was a brilliant idea. They should do it year round. Her mouth slackened with pleasure, and her eyes scalded him like chocolate fondue. Before he realized what he was doing, he'd pulled down her top with both hands so her breasts bounced free of their trappings. He pinched her gumdrop nipples between his thumb and forefinger and shook her tits like bowls full of jelly.
“Gonna come,” she gasped.
He nodded and pressed his lips to hers, growling as her cry echoed in his mouth. It rang all the way down to his balls, and his sac quivered in the resonance.
“Uuuunnnnhhh!” Her pussy pulsed around him, frosting him like a batch of Christmas biscuits. He shuddered and huffed, his breath puffing over her cheek as he jerked against her. His body tensed to stone between her thighs.
Severus sighed out a long moan as his balls rang in the holidays. Every bong jolted through his core. A carillon of come.
When they were both sated and gasping for breath, Severus tipped back his head and detached their lips. “Bloody hell," he panted. "That was . . .”
“Festive?”
“I was thinking fabulous. I’m afraid the thought of red-nosed reindeer will forever make me hard from this moment on.”
“Do you want to do it again?” she asked, kissing his cheek with a grin.
“If I get to pick the song,” he mumbled groggily.
“Let’s leave the music playing and go take a bath. When we get out, I’ll lick your balls while we listen to Deck the Halls.”
He snorted as he brushed his nose over hers. “I’ll bring the mistletoe.”

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Boxing Day proved to be much more relaxed than Christmas. When they went to have lunch in the Great Hall, they still drew stares and whispers; but everyone seemed much more at ease around the couple. Neville didn't choke once.
Hermione was just tucking into her roast beef when the door to the hall burst open, and Harry and Ginny stormed in. Harry was on guard, his wand drawn and at the ready; Ginny looked like red-headed wrath on the war path. James was in Ginny's arms, and he grinned in delight, excited by the adventure he was on.
"Where is she, Snape?" Ginny bellowed.
Hermione leaned over so she could see more clearly. "Who?"
"Hermione?" Ginny breathed, her face dropping in confusion. "Where have you been? Are you all right? You weren't at our party and you didn't come over on Christmas. We went to your house, and you weren't there. Crookshanks wasn't even there."
Hermione got up and went around the table to them, hugging Ginny and James. "I'm so sorry. I should have owled you. Severus went with me to check on my parents, and when we got back the morning of Christmas Eve, Crooks was dead."
Ginny's jaw dropped, and Harry winced. "No," they both muttered.
Hermione nodded. "Severus suggested we bring Crooks here to be buried in Hagrid's garden. After the funeral, we were both really tired, and I forgot about the party. And the next day I was so caught up in Christmas and being here . . . and thinking about Crooks and my parents, I totally forgot about coming over. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry."
"You sure you're okay?" Harry asked, tucking his wand back in his cloak. "Ginny said Snape might've done something to you." He glanced over at the Potions master. "She said you've been seeing him. What's going on? Why did Snape go with you to Australia? And since when do you call him Severus?"
The hall was very quiet, eavesdropping on the exchange. It wasn't every day the students got to see two-thirds of the Golden Trio hashing it out in the Great Hall.
"Since he asked me to," she answered. "I didn't know how to tell you about all this, Harry. At first I didn't even know what it was or if I should even mention it. I didn't want upset you over something that I wasn't sure about."
"But now?" Harry asked. "You're spending Christmas with him? He's taking you to see your parents? He helped you bury Crooks? It's obviously something now."
She could see the hurt in his eyes. "Yes, it is. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but we're still getting used to it ourselves."
Harry took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "You're dating him? Why? I mean . . . why Snape of all people?"
"Because I like being with him," she said softly. "He understands what I'm dealing with, and he likes me despite all my craziness. You have Ginny and James," she said, ruffling the little boy's hair. "But I don't have anyone. I need someone to talk to who will help me get though all this."
"And you think that person is Snape?" he asked with a dumbfounded look.
"It is right now," she said honestly. "He's helped me a lot. He's not like he used to be."
Harry glanced over at the head table again, torn between wanting to believe his friend and remembering the past. "He's not hurting you . . . or being mean?"
She shook her head and whispered, "He hugs me everyday and tells me I'm beautiful."
Hugs from Snape sounded like a sick punishment to him, yet she seemed to fancy it a great deal. He was baffled by her choice, but he had to take her word for it that Snape was what she needed. For now. "If I ever hear him say one harsh word to you, I'll hex that giant nose right off his face. But . . ." He pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. "If he makes you happy . . . I'll . . . be happy for you."
Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Harry."
Harry sighed and finally smiled too. "Ron is not going to like this."
Ginny smirked. "We'll wait and tell him after a win . . . and a few drinks."
James held out his arms to Hermione. "Aunty Hermy."
Hermione took him from Ginny. "Hello, James. I got the book holder you sent me. I love it. Did you get my present?"
He nodded. "The dancing puppy."
She smiled. Read to Me Rex came to life when the child read out loud to them. Balancing on his hind legs was one of his tricks. "Did Father Christmas bring you lots of toys?"
He beamed at her. "A broom!"
Hermione smirked at Ginny. "A broom? Have you been racing Mummy in the living room?"
He shook his head, laughing as he looking around. "Where's Cooks?"
Harry and Ginny glanced nervously at each other. Talk of death had been averted up to that point.
Hermione kissed his cheek. "Crooks was very old. He died the other day. He ran out of energy."
James looked confusedly hopeful. "He's sleeping?"
"No." She smiled softly. "His heart stopped beating, and he isn't breathing anymore. He's not alive like you and me and Mummy and Daddy. You know how when Mummy puts flowers on the table they eventually turn brown and fall apart?"
He nodded.
"The same thing happens to people and animals but muuuuuch slower. We get old and brown and then our bodies don't work so well. When our hearts can't keep up, they just stop, like when your wind up car runs out of juice."
"Cooks is gone? I can't pet him?"
"Not anymore," she whispered, realizing she wanted to pet Crooks too. "We buried him in Hagrid's garden. There's a stone there with his name on it so people will remember how much we loved him. You can go there and say goodbye if it makes you feel better."
He nodded slowly, thinking it over. "Is Fang with Haggie?"
Ginny grinned. "Fang freaks him out."
A drooling hulk of persistent dog would scare her if she were only two feet tall too.
James shook his head. "Not scared," he declared emphatically.
Harry smiled. "We know you're not scared, but we'll make sure Hagrid keeps him in the house anyway."
"Just give me a second and I'll take you out to see it," Hermione told them. She turned to the table and gave Severus an unsure smile. "Do you want to go see Crooks's grave with us?"
Puttering through the snow with Potter sounded revolting. But he'd travel to hell and back for her. "I'll summon our cloaks."
James patted her locket, watching the stranger go from the corner of his eye.
Hermione gave James a conspiratorial look. "You want to see a picture of my mum and dad?"
He nodded eagerly.
Hermione opened the locket for him and held it so he could see. "That's my mum and that's my dad."
"Are they like Cooks?"
She shook her head. "No, they're just in another country. Far away."
Ginny peered over James's shoulder. "Where did you get that?"
"Severus gave it to me for Christmas. Isn't it lovely?"
Ginny was impressed. "Yes."
Harry leaned over James's shoulder to take a look.
That was a far more thoughtful present than he ever would have expected from Snape. How close were they? No wizard bought a witch a locket with her parents' pictures inside unless things were serious.
Harry studied Snape as he returned with Hermione's cloak. Snape helped her into it, and Harry watched in horrified fascination as she smiled and stroked his chest in thanks. Snape took her hand, and they all started out of the Great Hall. Ginny was laughing and talking with Hermione and Snape as if this was perfectly normal, as if Snape were just another wizard Hermione was dating. He couldn't deny that Hermione looked much better than the last time he'd seen her, but . . . Snape? He didn't know if he would ever get used to this.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Severus watched the fire's shadows flicker across the ceiling. Her soft breath ghosted over his naked chest like the sigh of an angel. He couldn't sleep yet. The time he had with her was limited. She would leave for work in the morning.
Even though the past four days had been a wild ride of emotions, it had been the best four days of his life. Her presence made the rest of the world tolerable.
But times like this, when they were alone and quiet, holding on to each other, shielding each other from the bleak and insidious hazards of humanity, this was indescribable. His heart knew the words. Respite. Deliverance. Peace. But no language uttered on Earth could accurately define the exultation pumping through his veins.
If things kept going at this rate, the coming year would be the best of his life. He kissed the top of her head and took a deep breath, wrapping his senses in her scent. It was the perfume of hope. He let down his guard a little more and allowed himself to look forward to the future. The possibilities were bright with her lighting the way.
He closed his eyes, smiling as he ran his hand over her bushy hair.
Comfort and joy indeed.
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