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

Chapter List
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A/N: Well, now let's see...Hermione's secret Santa did not really appear to live up to standards based on the last gift. The bugger didn't even match the necklace to the earrings she'd already received. Sheesh. But Hermione is certainly on top of her gift-giving prowess, 10 bottles of bubbles wrapped in a blue bow in a basket? ;-) Let's see how they do for the eleventh day...

She awoke on the eleventh morning with a fright; thinking for a moment that she’d slept straight through after Neville’s visit and that the headmaster had no present awaiting him in his office. But then her mind returned to her as she yawned and stretched, tossing and turning in her bed. Sometime near midnight she’d shambled from sleep to her study and concocted a most delightful present for the eleventh day. With a smile on her lips she padded into her bathroom ready for a shower; despite her classes being canceled, with just a day before the holiday party she had much to do. A trip into Hogsmeade would be necessary.

            Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office quite amused. The bubbles had provided hours of entertainment and promised many more to come, but the present that rested before him was quite a puzzle. It was a pan flute of sorts, eleven pipes strung together and bound with thick vines. So far playing the flute resulted in silence. But he was certain it was not an over elaborate pipe for nothing; each of the pipes a different color. Whoever his secret Santa was they certainly had a love for colors.

            But had Albus Dumbledore not been in his study and in the Great Hall instead he would have noticed the effects of the silent pan flute. Any number of combinations of notes on the coloured pipes was creating quite the stir for anyone present; each different note changing a pane of glass to a different colour, or making the weather above the table change; changing the colour of the floating candles, and even the colours of the dishes at the house and staff tables. It had taken her over four hours to get such strong enchantments in place and soon enough she figured the Headmaster would stumble upon its jovial use.

            After a warm shower; perhaps a bit longer than she’d intended for naughty thoughts had drifted to her mind as easily as the tendrils of steam curled around in the bathroom. They had been of him, touching her, kissing her. That was a new notion; Severus Snape kissing her. It had made the shower most pleasurable and she found it tempting not to bring herself to completion, but after several more thoughts of a similar nature she had found herself unable to resist.

            With her third orgasm under her belt and her body thoroughly cleansed, she was dressed in her warm robes and overcoat to face the snow. She left her chambers and was sure to pass through the Great Hall before leaving the castle. It was clear that the Headmaster was busy trying to figure out what exactly his gift did. Students and faculty alike were gazing in awe at the colour changing windows and dishes, and watching as the weather would switch from hail pebbles to rain with thunder, to bright purple clouds and then rainbows with mist. She smirked a little and then headed to the grand entrance and made her way down the lawns, heading for Hogsmeade.

            Despite the nice covering and still dusting snow the streets of Hogsmeade were completely covered with wizards and witches bustling about. She was surprised to see so many people on the day before Christmas Eve but was pleased none the less. Hermione had scribbled a list before leaving her chambers and withdrew that list from her pockets. Several things to procure in order to create her twelfth present make fruitcake and decorate gingerbread cookies. She almost wished that she hadn’t agreed to take over Snape’s cookie making and decorating duties, but at least it would be entertaining.

            The apothecary was her first stop. The bell over the door tinkled as she entered the tiny shop and immediately her nose was assaulted with the scent of dozens of herbs and potions. She closed her eyes and breathed deep. It was warm and inviting; herbs she recognized and exotic new scents that she did not. There was an older balding man behind the counter with a warm smile on his face. “Can I help you, Miss?”

            She smiled and stepped toward him. “Yes, I do hope that you can.” She placed her parchment on the counter. “I need some general spices; cardamom, anise, ground licorice, cloves, cinnamon, spearmint, and ginger. A lot of ginger. Fine ground if you please, and whitened if you are able.”

            The little man glanced over the list once. “The spices should be no trouble, and whitened ginger at this time of the year is in full supply…” he pointed further down the list. “But Vellux Oven Cleaner?” he cleared his throat. “Dragon’s Blood Oven Cleaner? What on earth could you want that for, no one really uses it to clean ovens anymore, not after self-cleaning ovens were brought to us.”

            Hermione nodded. “Yes, I know. But you see…” she gestured to the rest of the list. “Each of these is—”

            “I know, Dragon’s Blood based…it seems you have here the—”

            “Twelve uses of Dragon’s Blood? Yes. And I need them each bottled in those…” she pointed to a tall shelf against the back wall of the apothecary. Shiny red drums, perhaps no bigger than her palm, lined in gold and lidded. They would be the perfect container for each of her final presents.

            “Very well…but that will take a few hours,” he muttered. “Have you other shopping to do?”

            “Why, yes, I do.”

            “Good, I was hoping the rest of the items on this list weren’t expected to be found in this shop.”

            Hermione shook her head. “Oh no, sir. I have plenty of other places to go here in Hogsmeade, shall I return around 3?”

            “They should be ready by then.” The apothecarist said.

            She ripped the bottom half of the list in half and left the top part with the man before departing the shop. It was true she did have several other things to procure before returning to the castle. Glancing down at her list she decided that Honeydukes would be the best place to start as she did need sugar and coloured syrups, as well as candied fruits and nuts for the fruitcake. And after Honeydukes perhaps a quick drink at the Three Broomsticks.

            Her time in Honeydukes was well spent and she had spent perhaps more than she should. But with her arms filled with brown paper bags filled with goodies and sweets she made her way back out into the streets of Hogsmeade. With a huff she sat her bags down against the streetlamp and then waved her wand, shrinking them sufficiently. She pocketed her grocery bags and then turned to head up the street to The Three Broomsticks, but a most peculiar sight caught her eye.

            Severus Snape, bundled in a thick black winter coat and green woolen scarf, entered Gladrags Wizardwear. It was strange seeing him in Hogsmeade and not at the Apothecary. Her mind got the better of her, racing with thoughts of what the reserved man would be doing in the robes shop two days before Christmas, and so she moved across the street and moved to enter the robes shop. But as her hand clutched against the doorknob the door was pulled back and Severus Snape stepped out onto the snow covered stoop.

            Hermione nearly fell backward; she hadn’t been expecting someone to come out of the shop. “Oh! Forgive me!” she muttered and her face flushed.

            “Beg your pardon, Professor Granger,” he said and held the door open. “Were you going inside?”

            Not wanting to seem out of sorts she shook her head quickly and ducked under his arm and into the shop. He disappeared out into the snowy streets of Hogsmeade leaving her standing inside the robe shop. “Can I help you?” said the plump little witch behind the counter.

            “Er…no…” she shook her head. “Well, what was that man in here for?” she asked.

            “Professor Snape?” the woman chuckled. “Checking on an order. He needed some school robes repaired, cauldron burns, but they aren’t ready yet.”

            “I see.” Hermione swallowed and felt a little guilty. “Thank you.” As she excused herself from the shop she vowed not to think on the man anymore. Her growing curiosity of the man was leading her to question things about him that were perfectly ordinary. With a sigh she helped herself to a mulled mead warmed with cloves at the Three Broomsticks before heading back to the Apothecary to retrieve her order.

            She had returned to her chambers frustrated and slightly disappointed. It was practically early evening and still no present had arrived from her secret Santa. And she still had to arrange the drums of dragon’s blood, and make fruitcake, and gingerbread men and cookies and decorate them. It was going to be a long night. At least she didn’t have to chaperone the early train in the morning. Minerva had been kind enough to schedule her for the last train departing for the holidays. The last of the students, whose teachers hadn’t been so generous as to cancel classes, would be heading down to the station around 12:30.

            Within an hour she had the drums arranged neatly in a pyramid and was pleased with how wonderful they looked. She’d taken a quill and dipped it in silver ink, labeling each of the drums for their contents. She would take them to his office in the morning before heading to the train station. Hermione made her way to the Great Hall, she would enjoy dinner, head to her office in case there were any students waiting to discuss grades on their final assignments, which would give the house elves time to clear up the dinner mess from the kitchens, before she would head there with her bags full of supplies; armed and ready to make fruitcake and gingerbread cookies.

            Dinner had been uneventful, everyone in a conversational mood, but nothing terribly exciting. She was happy when she’d finished her beef stroganoff, and excused herself to her office; where she waited, and waited for over an hour. She hadn’t really expected any students to visit, after all muggle studies was mostly an elective class and only those really interested in the subject signed up for it. Hermione kept checking her time piece; she didn’t want to rush the poor house elves out of the kitchen. At about quarter ‘til eight she headed down to the portrait with her arms loaded full of brown grocery bags and she tickled the pear, with a bit of difficulty, and slid into the kitchens of Hogwarts.

            Not an elf in sight and she smiled. She had brought a handful of socks just in case they had offered to do it for her or insisted that they needed to stay in the kitchen and supervise. Her cooking abilities were not as strong as perhaps some of her other abilities and she didn’t like being watched. There was a spacious table against the far wall next to several of the ovens and the sink. It would be a perfect starting place.

            Hermione laid out all of her ingredients on the table and set to work. Mixing the dough for the fruitcake hadn’t been very difficult, and mincing up the various bits of fruits and nuts was just like mincing potion ingredients. She was able to follow the recipe quite simply and filled three bunt pans with fruitcake mix, sprinkling extra nuts on the bottom; a crunchy nut bottom would be satisfying she thought with a smile. And getting them set into the oven, with the right temperature had been a cinch. She was pleased when they came out a warmed golden brown and she was able to insert a knife through the center and it came out clean. She even pressed a handful of the diced fruit bits into the top of the cakes before plating them and covering them. She put them on the counter near the sink and prepared herself to move onto the task of making gingerbread men and all of the little fixtures needed to properly decorate them.

            But an hour into her endeavor she was covered in sticky glop and frustrated. Her hair was pulled tight back from her face in a ponytail at the base of her neck and she’d shed her outer robes, leaving her in a muggle shirt which she’d pulled the sleeves up on as she tried to make perfect spice drops. She’d mixed the proportions according to the recipe, melted the sugar and gelatin exactly as it said. And yet it wouldn’t solidify and when she tried to mix in the ground spices it only became gooier and stickier.

            “Perhaps I could be of assistance?”

            Hermione whirled around and nearly knocked her bowl of failed cinnamon spice drop mixture onto the floor. “Sir!” she cried, not knowing what else to say. Severus Snape had entered the kitchens and so silently that she hadn’t heard him. In one arm he was carrying a large plant that looked like an overgrown stick with one single branch curling from the top. He stepped toward her and placed the plant on the table, taking only a moment to glance at what she’d been attempting.

            Hermione flushed. “I’m fine, just a minor setback.” She said. And then sighed as each of the bowls of goop seemed to wiggle at her as if mocking her. “Although, maybe a hand couldn’t hurt…but I thought you were busy?”

            “I am,” he said. “I was hoping this plant— my eleventh Christmas present— would be of some use to you as I’m not going to sit around and suck spice drops from its branch.” He eyed the plant with distaste. “Apparently my person heard that I was to be decorating gingerbread men.”

            Hermione gazed at the plant. It was a shriveled gray twig that hardly looked as if it could produce a leaf let alone various spice drops. She tilted her head to the side and then stiffened as she felt his presence leaning close over her shoulder.

            “Cinnamon spice drop, please,” he said in a soft tone. Every hair on the back of her neck stood on end. His breath was warm against her neck and she hardly even noticed the tip of the twig turning bright red and then swelling until a perfectly formed cinnamon spice drop hung from the end. “Ask and it shall give,” he said. “Clever enchantment, though I have little use for such things.” He drew back and walked around to the side of the table.

            Hermione was still frozen, her body tingling at how close he had been. But she shook herself and cleared her mind; gaze focused once more on the plant. She reached her fingers forward and plucked the spice drop from the twig and popped it into her mouth. It tasted exactly as it was meant to. “Incredible.”

            “I haven’t tested its bounds thoroughly but so far it can do a range of spice drops and other lollies and confections.” He said.

            Hermione nodded and then a brilliant smile crept across her lips. “Hundreds and thousands, please,” she said and then quickly grabbed a small empty bowl and placed it under the end of the twig. The plant practically exploded and filled the bowl with every colour and shape of hundreds and thousands.   She grinned and then turned toward the Potions Master who was watching her with a slightly bemused smirk upon his lips.

            “It seems I have served my purpose,” he nodded and then walked past her, heading out of the kitchens.

            “I could use the help, sir. They do take an awfully long time to decorate by hand,” she said.

            Severus paused for a moment and then turned to her. “Professor Granger, while I do not doubt that the Headmaster foolishly believes that my biscuit decorating capabilities are acceptable, surely you know better.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

            Hermione shrugged her shoulders a bit. “They can’t be as bad as my spice drop mixing ability?”

            He paused a moment and then nodded. “I do suppose you are right about that.” As Severus stepped up to the table he withdrew his wand and waved it over the various bowls of jiggling goop and they were banished to the sink. “I can…assist.”

            She couldn’t help but chuckle, but did her best to mask it with a coughing fit. Now that the decorations would flow easily from the enchanted plant, making the gingerbread men would be easy. She’d made dough with her grandmother before, even white gingerbread dough so that she could make snowmen shaped biscuits. And within just a few minutes she had dough whipped up in bowls and smiled. Hermione handed a bowl of dough to Severus. He held it a bit unnaturally. “It’s rather like stirring a potion, Sir.” She smiled and then handed him a wooden spoon. “Just until its thickened and we can roll it out on the table.”

            “You seem to know a great deal about this biscuit business.” He said a bit distracted as he counted each revolution of the spoon in the dough.

            “I used to love making cookies with my gran,” she smiled fondly and then plunged her bare hands into a bowl of thick brown gingerbread dough. She squished her fingers into the dough, kneading it as she pressed it against the wooden surface of the table.

            “Do you not love making them with her anymore?”

            Hermione hesitated for a moment. “She died when I was ten.”

            “My condolences,” he muttered and then continued to stir the dough. “It has thickened.”

            “Oh,” she said with a bit of distraction and then shook her head. “Yes, well, pull it out of the bowl, and start to squish it like I’ve been, and then press it against the table.” She watched as he fumbled with the dough for a moment. “Like this,” Hermione reached over and helped him with the glob of dough, her fingers brushing against his as she began to knead it. The spark shot through her body again but she did her best to ignore it as she worked the dough against the table, his hands clenching and squeezing just beside hers.

            “There…” she smiled. “Then a rolling pin to flatten it, and then we’ll cut shapes into it.”

            They worked in silence, with the occasional comment from Hermione on how to do one thing or another with the dough. They used metal cookie-cutters in various shapes; gingerbread people, snowmen, Christmas trees, stars, ornaments; and then they re-rolled the spare dough to press more shapes into it. As they filled each tray she have Severus place it in the ovens, checking them every so often to ensure they wouldn’t burn; while she mixed more dough, even a batch with pure white ginger so the snowmen would appear white.

            As each tray was removed from the oven he would cast a cooling charm over them and she would flip them from the tray onto their decorating space. “It’s very simple,” she smiled and picked up a tube with a fine tip attached. “This is a piping tube, each one has different colours of frosting inside,” she was holding a bright blue tube. “You squeeze it onto the cookie to decorate it,” she doodled a wavy line on a gingerbread cookie that was the shape of an ornament. “And then you can add other decorations…” she said. “Star-shaped sugar strings, please.” She said to the plant. She pushed her hand under the twig’s tip and caught about fifteen tiny sugar stars that were tinted gold. “And then you can place them…” she made a simple decorative pattern along the blue squiggly line and then picked up a tube of silver icing and piped little dots over the remaining surface of the cookie.

            “You do make it look simple,” he said and picked up a tube of green frosting. Before him was a tree-shaped gingerbread cookie. He began to outline with the frosting. Hermione set to work on making little faces on the gingerbread people and checked on various trays of cookies in the oven as she went. In no time at all she had a heap of cookies frosted and covered in various decorations, spice drops, and hundreds and thousands.

            “Oh my,” she found that her breath was stolen from her chest for a brief moment as she gazed upon the Christmas tree cookie he had been decorating. He had traced the outline around and around in thin lines until it filled the entire cookie and then dotted various colours of frosting along various lines to form ornaments and had added a strategic placement of miniature twinkling sugar strands all along the green frosting lines. It looked almost like a miniature Christmas tree come to life. “It’s beautiful.”

            “It’s a biscuit, Miss Granger,” he said and then pushed it aside.

            Hermione rolled her eyes and then picked up a tray of fresh gingerbread men. “Here, decorate these,” She set the tray down in front of him and then began to gather up the ones that were already decorated. She summoned a large silver serving tray and began to organize them; layering them atop one another so that most of the intricate designs could still be seen. She placed the beautiful Christmas tree on the very top.

            They worked until it was almost midnight. The cookies were finished and displayed on their trays. She placed a freshening and concealment charm over them before setting them on the counter beside the fruitcakes. “Thank you,” she smiled at the Potions Master.

            He nodded slightly and then waved his wand to banish their dishes to the sink; where they began to wash themselves. He nodded again as he walked past her. “Thank you for assisting me,” without another word he disappeared from out of the kitchen. It had been a strange encounter, but pleasant none the less, and he was apparently a skilled cookie decorator.

            With this knowledge Hermione left the kitchens and headed up to her chambers, if a bit exhausted. At least she would be able to have a bit of a lie-in. Her study felt somehow warmer as if she’d left the fire going in one of the hearth’s but she was certain she had put them out before leaving for Hogsmeade. She passed through her sitting room and then into her bedroom and her jaw dropped. Had she been holding anything it would have fell from her grip and clattered against the floor.

            There were faerie lights strung everywhere. Along the lining of the ceiling around all the walls and the paint of the walls seemed to be a light periwinkle colour. Faerie lights were strung over the gossamer canopy of her bed. Only it wasn’t her bed; it was a much larger and more luxurious four poster than she had ever seen. The posts looked like petrified birch wood, twisting upward with vines and flowers twined around them, intermixed with the faerie lights. A gauzy shimmery canopy was strung over the top in shades of purple and pink. The duvet had been turned down, a thick goose down doona in similar shades to the canopy, and the headboard was padded, made of the same petrified birch wood with flowers and vines wrapped all around it.

            The dressers and vanity table matched the wood of the bed and the carpet was a soft plush sea foam and earthy green, as if mimicking a wild forest floor. The ceiling itself appeared to be enchanted, copying the night sky. Stars twinkled and made the faerie lights glimmer in the darkness. Against her wall she noticed that the normal Hogwarts fireplace was marble, toned in soft purple and there in the hearth was a blue glowing fire. It was warming the room, which she noticed then smelled like a twilit forest.

            Running to the mattress she jumped on it, feeling how firm but comfortable against her back it was. She was in heaven. Hermione burst out laughing at how wonderful it all was. Whoever her secret Santa was— they truly wanted her to be a princess. She rolled around in the bed and just took in the beauty of it all for a moment and then closed her eyes. She had intended to take a shower before bed but couldn’t bear to pull herself from the gorgeous little wonderland that had been created in her bedroom. Tomorrow was going to make for an interesting day.

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The Twelve Days of Secret Santa